Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

thirty-six

36. Mujhe maaf kar dijiye (I'm sorry)

•°•

- priya -

I was placing the lit-up diya in the in-house temple when there was movement behind me. Soon a hand snuck past me and reached out to pick one of the flowers offered to the deity. I slapped my husband's hand, smiling at the hiss that escaped his lips even though I hadn't even hit that hard. He still didn't drop the flower, such a rebellion, and retracted his hand, which seconds later I felt prodding around my loose wet bun.

"You're going to hell," I commented, adding a few more fresh blooms from the basket and asking for forgiveness on my husband's behalf.

"Woh kyun? (And why is that?)" He placed his chin on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist.

"Aditya, leave me. Anyone can see us here." I said trying to get free of his grip. But I was powerless in front of him. Both physically and emotionally. "You're definitely ending up in hell. First, you stole a flower from the temple, and now you're romancing in front of God?" I shook my head, making my dramatic disappointment obvious.

"Toh kya? (So what?)" He shot back sassily. "Isn't he posing with his girlfriend over there, chilled out and all?"

I gasped, looking over my shoulder at him as my hand reached out to cup his mouth. "At least mince your words," I warned him.

He rolled his eyes. "If he does it then it's fair, but if I do then I'm being offensive?"

I knocked on his forehead, wishing to put some sense in there. "Hear that voice? It's all empty inside. No wonder you say stupid stuff." I shrugged, turning back around.

"I don't say stupid stuff. I say romantic stuff." He snorted.

"Same difference," I retorted.

"Look here, biwi," he grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him, making my heart skyrocket into my chest. I swear he gives me the feeling of floating in the skies with my feet still firmly planted on the ground. And all he has to do is regard me with that intense look and call me some stupid, cheesy nickname, which any other time, from someone else's mouth, would have made me awkward and cringe. "Don't provoke me,"

I held back the urge to smile.

"Or what?" I did just that.

"Or I would have told you what's in my head, in clear freaking words, if we weren't standing here," he stated, glancing behind me at the figurines of deity.

My face flushed red.

A satisfied smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. So smug.

"Priya, yeh aaloo dekhna agar mandir ka kaam ho gaya ho toh! (Priya, if you're done with the temple, come and check these potatoes!)" Aditya's mom's voice rang loud and clear from the kitchen.

My heart sunk when Aditya pulled away, the void of his proximity depriving me of his bodily warmth.

"Jao, Priya, (Go, Priya)" he grinned lopsided, tilting his head as a gesture to get me moving. I hurried away as fast as my feet allowed me.

Mom pointed towards the gas stove where the potatoes were put to boil while she was busy kneading the dough. I nodded and went to check on them. Poking the tip of the knife through one to see if it goes in easily, I turned off the gas when it passed the test.

I washed them under cool water to reduce the heat emanating before I began peeling each and keeping them separated from the unpeeled ones.

I can't believe what happened back there. No, not his flirting, it's usual now. But my body's reaction. Despite knowing how much sex with him hurts, my legs still grow weak in the knees hearing his voice and my thighs clench together at his charming grins. It's the touch that shoots alarm bells off in my head, disappearing any and all effect he has on me.