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8. The End

Eventually Pragya felt Abhi tracing the edge of her blouse again, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to tease her bare skin.

A new awareness trilled along her nerves, but before she could pull away in shyness, Abhi murmured against her ear, "You know, I can't decide if I love this blouse or hate it."

"What?" Pragya asked, confused that he would have strong feelings about her clothes.

"It's like the showroom is half open. So I'm curious to see the other half. But I don't want anyone else thinking that." His voice dropped in pitch on the last sentence, and she could hear a fierce edge that made her feel strangely pleased.

"Anyone else?" she prompted, wanting to hear more of that edge.

But Abhi being Abhi, his answer took a different turn. "Men have eyes. And some women too, I guess. You know that Meethu? She probably loved your blouse too."

Perplexed, Pragya finally straightened in his lap and looked at him. "Yes, she said -" She broke off as his lifted eyebrow helped her take his meaning. "Oh my God!" she gasped in surprise. "You mean - no! But she's obsessed with you!"

Abhi smiled innocently. He started to play with the tassels at the ends of her doris. "She has wide ranging tastes."

Pragya was still trying to process the implication and didn't feel the slight tug at her doris. "So you're saying she would want to - want to -"

Abhi gave her a naughty wink. "I'm just saying if we invited her to join us someday she'd probably say yes."

Pragya set her hands on his shoulders, seeking steadiness as her mind continued to whirl with the idea that Meethu could be attracted to her. "And not - not just because she wants you?"

"Exactly."

"Oh my god," Pragya said again, at a loss for how else to react. She buried her face against his neck again, her cheeks burning as she came to grips with the idea.

Abhi laughed and stroked her hair to reassure her. "Don't worry, I wouldn't let her. I'm not really into that."

His fingers were still frisking along her back, and Pragya finally realized what he was up to. For one wild moment she wondered if maybe it was his way of inviting her to take that final step forward in their marriage - but then she remembered his gunshot wound.

Deciding that he shouldn't be the only one who got to play games, she twisted half-way to turn her back to him. "Actually, could you get the hooks too?" she asked, doing her best to sound sweet and innocent when she felt anything but.

Abhi's hand automatically pulled at the dori he'd been playing with, and it came unknotted. But then his hands hovered hesitantly in the air, and he didn't move onto the hooks.

Pragya looked over her shoulder. "Please, naa? It's hard for me to reach."

"You're not the one who can't stretch that zone," Abhi protested sardonically, not willing to be played.

Pragya pouted. "I'm asking for such a small thing..."

"Yes, this blouse is too small," Abhi said gravely. "And if I undo both hooks and dori, won't the whole thing just fall off? Naughty Fuggi..."

"Uff! No, the sleeves will keep it up. Don't you know anything about blouses?" Pragya demanded, annoyed that he was being difficult when she was trying to flirt.

"No, not really," Abhi admitted cheerfully. "I don't wear them."

Pragya twisted back to face him. "But you take them off," she said archly.

Abhi beamed. "Just off you. And that too, not yet."

"Not yet?"

"I told you before, I'm not going to start what I can't finish. You're on your own with the hooks until this stupid gunshot heals."

"And...and what then?"

"And then...I'll help you with the hooks. And everything else."

Pragya felt like she was blushing from head to toe. The promise in his words soothed an ache she'd never let herself acknowledge having. She felt fully at peace, but then her blood was also buzzing with a need that had nothing to do with peace.

She swallowed hard and said, "Accha. So that's how it's going to be."

Abhi finally dropped his arms from her, leaning back on the bed. "Yes, madam. So take your blouse and yourself to the closet, and don't come back until you're decent in a chatri."

Pragya stood up and made a show of shaking out the wrinkles of her sari, bending forward to give him a teasing view of the showroom he'd almost opened. When she straightened she was pleased to see that he was looking as flushed as she felt.

"Not nice, Fuggi," Abhi growled. "Taunting a sick man."

Pragya laughed and finally headed to the closet. To think that just this morning she'd been sad that she wasn't his type, and now he was saying things like that...

The risk she'd taken had been worth it, after all. He had needed a few days - and a daring blouse - to come around, but now he finally had, and everything was finally right between them.

Life outside the jungle was looking better and better every moment.