Anchored in you

Chapter 22: The Unscheduled Interruption

The silence of the apartment was a living thing-thick, sweet, and absolute. For months, I had been surrounded by the noise of servers, the chatter of boardrooms, and the deafening crescendo of wedding rituals. But now, with the door finally locked against the world, the only sound was the synchronized rhythm of our breathing.

Samaira stood in the center of our living room, the champagne Tussar silk of her saree catching the moonlight like a river of pearls. She looked ethereal, yet grounded-the woman who had turned my cold investment into a home.

"Harish," she whispered, her voice a soft vibration in the quiet.

I didn't answer with words. I couldn't. I walked toward her, my footsteps silent on the new rug. When I reached her, I didn't hesitate. I pulled her into my arms, the silk of her saree rustling against my shirt, and claimed her lips.

It wasn't a tentative kiss. It was a release-a pouring out of every emotion I had bottled up since that first day at the market. I led her back toward the velvet sofa we had picked out together. I sat down, and in a move that felt as natural as breathing, I pulled her onto my lap.

She moved instinctively, straddling me to find balance, her knees resting on either side of my hips. The weight of her, the way the Tussar silk gathered between us, and the scent of jasmine from her hair sent a jolt through my system that made my head spin. I gripped her waist, my fingers digging slightly into the soft fabric, and deepened the kiss. My world narrowed down to the taste of her and the heat of her skin.

I was lost. I was wandering through the most beautiful territory I had ever discovered, my lips moving from her mouth to the curve of her jaw. I felt her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and a low groan escaped my throat.

Suddenly, I felt her stiffen.

She pulled away, her hands resting on my shoulders to create a few inches of distance. Her eyes were wide, and that familiar "Consultant Realization" expression-the one she usually reserved for a missed audit deadline-flickered across her face.

"Harish!" she gasped, her breath coming in short, jagged bursts.

"Mmm?" I murmured, refusing to let go. I leaned in, pecking the sensitive skin of her neck, right where the gold of the Thali rested. "What is it, Sami?"

"We never discussed the honeymoon!"

I froze for a split second, then let out a muffled laugh against her skin. "Are you serious right now? We are in the middle of our first night, in our new home, and you're worried about logistics?"

"It's not just logistics!" she insisted, trying to push my head away, though her fingers were still gripping my hair. "It's a major post-merger phase! We haven't looked at flight durations, weather patterns, or visa requirements. What if we want to go to the Alps and it's the wrong season? Or the Maldives and it's monsoon? Harish, this is a glaring gap in our planning!"

I ignored her. I really did. I moved my lips back to her face, raining small, heated kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, and the tip of her nose. I felt her let out a long, shaky moan, her resolve melting despite her words.

"We will talk about the weather patterns later," I whispered against her lips, my voice thick and unrecognizable. "Come here now. No more talk."

I pulled her back into a kiss that was intended to end all conversation. I felt her give in, her body softening against mine, her hands tightening on my shoulders. The "Glaring Gap" in our planning was being replaced by a much more immediate priority.

Ding-dong.

The sound was like a gunshot in the silent room.

We both jumped. Samaira practically leaped off my lap, her face turning a shade of red that would have put a hibiscus to shame. She scrambled to adjust her Tussar silk, her hands shaking.

"Who is that?" she whispered, her eyes wide with panic. "Our parents? Did something happen?"

I sat there for a moment, my head in my hands, a growl of pure, unadulterated frustration vibrating in my chest. "If it's my mother checking on the milk, I'm going to lose my mind."

Ding-dong. Ding-dong-ding-dong.

The person on the other side was being persistent. Relentless. Aggressive.

I stood up, adjusting my shirt and running a hand through my hair. I walked to the door, my temper fraying with every step. I looked through the peephole and felt my blood pressure skyrocket.

I swung the door open.

There, standing in the hallway with a crate of beer, several bags of takeout, and a "Party" speaker, was the combined force of our friends. Vikram, Sameer, Anita, Gayatri, and even Kaushal.

"SURPRISE!" Vikram shouted, lifting the crate. "You didn't think we'd let you escape without a proper send-off, did you? The party is just beginning!"

"We brought murukku and chips!" Anita chirped, trying to peer past me into the apartment. "Sami! You okay in there? We thought you might be bored!"

I stood in the doorway, a wall of cold, silent fury. I didn't say a word. I just looked at Vikram-the man I had known since college, the man I had trusted with my company's secrets-and I gave him a look that would have withered a cactus.

"Vikram," I said, my voice dangerously low.

"Oh, come on, Harish! Don't be such a CEO!" Sameer laughed, trying to push past. "Just one hour! We'll be out by-"

SLAM.

I shut the door with a force that rattled the frames on the wall. I didn't care if I was being a bad host. I didn't care about the wings. I reached over to the digital panel on the wall and, with a swift flick of my wrist, turned the doorbell sound to "Silent."

I turned back to the living room. Samaira was standing by the sofa, looking halfway between amusement and mortification.

"Was that them?" she asked, a small laugh escaping her. "Did you just slam the door on our best friends?"

"I did," I said, my voice steady now, a new purpose fueling my movements. "And I'd do it again. I'd slam the door on the Prime Minister right now."

I walked toward her. She started to say something-probably another remark about the honeymoon or the "rudeness" of my behavior-but I didn't give her the chance.

In one swift, fluid motion, I reached down and swept her off her feet.

"Harish!" she shrieked, her hands flying up to clutch my neck in surprise. "What are you doing? Put me down! We haven't even finished the boxes in the kitchen!"

"The boxes can wait," I said, my gaze locked onto hers. "The friends can wait. The weather patterns in the Alps can definitely wait."

I carried her across the living room, the champagne Tussar silk trailing over my arm like a banner of victory. I walked into our bedroom-the one with the dark teak bed and the view of the river-and kicked the door shut behind us.

I set her down on her feet, but I didn't let her go. I kept her pinned between me and the closed door, the moonlight from the window casting a silver glow over her face.

"No more interruptions, Samaira," I whispered, my thumb tracing the curve of her lip. "No more logistics. Just us."

She looked at me, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, the mischief and the fear and the love all swirling in her eyes. She reached up and touched the Thali around her neck, then leaned forward, resting her forehead against my chest.

"Okay," she whispered. "No more logistics."

I smiled, pulling her closer into the quiet, sacred dark of our new life. The door was locked, the bell was silent, and for the first time in my life, the only project that mattered was the woman in my arms.