The Forced Bride

Chapter 7 - Suspicions

I DEVAKI I

Devaki had spent the whole day talking with Tahira, only taking breaks when their mouth were busy chewing the food. But their eagerness got the best of them, and they found moments to talk in between bites. The two women talked about their childhood, their interests, hobbies and everything in between. The doubt and troubles she had regarding Tahira in the beginning were gone by that evening. They were eager to get close. It felt like there was someone there in the darkness to share her pain and understand her.

Maybe that was the reason she felt guilty when he mentioned how Tahira was often taken advantage of. Because, in a sense, she was using Tahira to fill the hole in her heart, caused by the loss of many others. And she would leave such a hole in Tahira's heart when she inevitably leaves. It was cruel, but it was not something she could stop. Still, it made her a little perturbed that her husband could tell she was planning on leaving. It made her uneasy. As if he was miles ahead of her, perhaps even taking measures to prevent her from running away, when she was only thinking about it.

Devaki walked behind Idris, trying to calm her nerves that were suddenly making her jittery and tense around the man. She jumps when the door to their room closes shut behind them, an embarrassing yelp escapes past her lips. It makes Idris turn around with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. She clears her throat before walking past him towards the diwan cot on the other side of the room. 

"You can take a bath first. I have some things to take care of", she jumps when his voice disrupts the silence in the room, breaking through the tension building around them. She thought she saw an amused lift of his lips when she turned around. But before she could confirm if her sudden case of nerves was amusing him, he turned around and walked towards his desk. 

Eager to leave his presence and calm her nerves, she walked to the chair on which she kept the clothes that Tahira had given her that evening. She pulled out the blue cotton salwar kameez and the towel before heading towards the bathroom, thinking why she was feeling so nervous and jittery, all of a sudden, even more than she did that morning. After closing the door and making sure it is locked, twice, she strips out of her clothes.

As soon as the cool water hit her skin, Devaki felt herself relax. She washed her hair and lathered it with soap before washing everything away. The bath was just what she needed to calm her nerves. Grabbing the towel, she loosely wrapped it around her hair on top of her head. She put the salwar kameez on, not bothering to wipe her body dry. She preferred it that way some times, as it kept her cool throughout the night. But, she didn't count for the lack of undergarments when she put it on. With no other choice, she opened the door of the bathroom and walked out.

Idris lifted his head up when he heard her. He was sitting on the bed with a book in his hand, the buttons on his kurta undone, and his hair muzzled. The sight oddly made the calm leave her body and make way for those previously forgotten nerves. Idris cast a quick glance at her before wordlessly getting up. He dropped the book on his desk before opening his wardrobe and grabbing a grey kurta. Devaki dropped her worn clothes in the basket beside the dresser, as she thought about the best way to diffuse the tension in the room. She couldn't look at the man with the same eyes of judgement and contempt she did that morning. The stories that Tahira had shared made sure of that.

Feeling nervous and uncertain suddenly, she turns around, facing him. Just as she was about to say something to him, he turns and something red catches her eyes. There was a red stain on his white pants that wasn't there when he left that morning.

"Is that blood on your pants?", before she could stop herself, the words flew past her mouth.

Idris' movements slow down for a moment but then he resumes his task as if she hasn't asked him a question. She kept looking at his unbothered back as he pulled out a kurta and pant from the wardrobe. He must have felt her stare, for before he closed the wardrobe, he cast a glance at her over his shoulder.