BALH2 Reimagined

Imagined Interludes: Two Islands

[ A night in the early days after Ram & Priya's wedding, before the Shivina-Akshay elopement]

No. No. No. How could this be? How had he misunderstood her so completely? He had been a cruel juror sentencing her silence as coldness, her self-possession as selfishness. He had to find her at once—his beautiful, incomparable, bullish wife. There would be nothing between them now. No, they would bare it all, and he would finally claim her as his in every sense of the word.

"Priya....Priya...Priya!" Mr. Kapoor's exasperated chanting finally registered.

Priya started guiltily. If she had been reading a physical book, she had a feeling she would have slammed it shut and stuffed it under the mattress (certainly not in a manner that would have raised any suspicion at all). As it was, she carefully powered off the Kindle and smoothed her hands over the cover, taking a breath or two.

Then, with her best smile, "Ah! Mr. Kapoor. You're home. You must be hungry?"

"Not really," he said. "I had Tarun send some biryani and kebabs to office. Adi & I were starving. We got some ice-cream on the way back, too. There is a carton in the fridge if you want some."

"Oh! Okay. Then if you don't need anything else, shall I...?"

"Ofcourse, you continue..."

Ram surveyed his wife moodily. No sooner had he released her from dinner duties, she'd dived head first into her book. Was that all she had to say to him, then? No taunts on his eating habits, even?

When he had padded into the room that night, he had found her scooted into the farthest corner of the bed, legs kicked out in front of her, ankles crossed. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail; she must have slid her head down the headrest until her chin was tucked into her neck. The Kindle was propped on her chest, her lips twisted in an 'o' of concentration. Gone was the statuesque Priya of his imagination. Now, she looked more like a puppet cut loose from its leading strings—legs and arms sprawled without regard. The pose had surprised and tickled him both. She looked almost childlike.

She had paid him no mind as he put away his things. He felt a irritation coil in his neck with every passing minute that she said nothing. He'd become louder and louder as he puttered around the room—slamming doors a little too loudly, clearing his throat one too many times. Finally, when he'd caved and greeted her, all he got was a polite inquiry about dinner. Well!

I don't know what you were expecting, he thought to himself darkly, as he made his way to his side of the bed. Priya was not a fount of volubility at the best of times. But even for a humble chap like himself, it was just too much...to be stood up by a book! He reviewed their interactions over the past few nights in his head. Priya had either been asleep by the time he returned from work, or they had dined together with a smattering of small talk. Stop pouting. In any event, you aren't missing out on any scintillating conversation. He tossed, and turned a few times in bed, needlessly punching his pillow.

"Won't you look at me?" he beseeched his wife. She ignored him, presenting her back. Proud to a fault. He had barred all manner of physical escape, but she wouldn't submit her mind. She gasped as his arm snagged about her waist, pulling her tight against his chest. "As you wish my darling," he breathed against her ear. "We'll do it your way..." —

"Goodnight, Priya," Mr. Kapoor's voice burst her bubble, nearly making her jump clean off the bed.

Relax, you idiot! He was just wishing you goodnight, she scolded herself. Wait...did he say he was going to bed. So soon?  But, he was already reaching to turn off the lights. Must be tired. He's had a long night, after all. Priya bit her lip, as she contemplated turning in. But she was almost done with the book.