Resham

Chapter 5

Numerous people to work in the kitchen and none know how to make good aalo ke paranthe. What even is the point of working in a Punjabi guys house? I threw them all out of the kitchen an hour ago and now here I am. It's not that difficult to cook for just two people and since I was never expected to do much, I learned how to cook to keep myself occupied.

I untuck the pallu of my saree from my waist and look at the table in self appreciation. It's the first time I've cooked in this castle. Just a week and I was bored of all the pancakes and stuff.

Shivansh walks down the stairs, dressed for the day. He would leave for work today and I would be home, alone and unquestionably bored. He looks at the table and his eyebrows shoot up. "That's not something they know how to cook." He mutters more to himself but I hear him loud and clear. He then turns to me. "Did you make this my love?" I shrug awkwardly and he frowns at my response.

Why am I like this?

I gesture for him to sit and serve him. Then I walk to the other end of the table, opposite to him and settle down. We've never eaten on the dining table before, but this is how I've seen his parents sit. He stays quiet for a bit, observing me, until he takes a bite of his food. He stands up abruptly, picks up his plate and walks to my side.

What is he doing?

He pulls the chair on my right, and settles down. "What happened?" He looks at me with adoring eyes. He always has.

"You were too far. And also, I have to kiss the hands of the woman who cooked this delicious meal." He takes my right hand in his and kisses my knuckles. "Thank you darling. This the best meal I've ever had."

Butterflies. Too many of them. "You have chefs cooking for you husband, I am sure you've had better." He shakes his head. "They cook because it's their job. You cooked for us even when no one asked you too. And I might be looking more into it than there actually is, but that effort made the food much better than what any chef can make. Give yourself more credit wife. Don't let the deep rooted hatred your grandfather instilled in you tamper your confidence more than it already has."

I suck in a deep breath. Ofcourse he knows. He reads people like books. I point a finger at him, "don't, psycho analyze me. I am your wife not your patient. Keep your job in your office." His smile is sheepish and adorable. He raises both his hands in surrender. "Can't help it darling." We go back to eating our food quietly.

The time for him to leave arrives faster than I know. And I dread it. But I am not a child who is going to throw a fit. So I stand beside him, infront of his car, seeing him off. But before he could leave, he turns to me and pulls a paper out of his pocket. "I found this when I fished my watch out from the back drawer darling." I frown at him. Why is he telling me that?

"It seems to be yours. I am not going to read all of it, it's just a list of different places to have sex in," My eyes widen in horror, that's the paper Shruti found in my cupboard. Why the hell did I not throw it away? I try to take it out of his hands but he holds it out of my reach. "But here at the end, it has a very intriguing question. What would be my husband's interests in bed? And does he fuck hard?"