Chronicles Of My Darling Husband | ✓

116. Kalaha (Part 1)

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"So?" Nishita chirped, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Krishna looked up from his newspaper, standing in the courtyard, raising a questioning brow. "So?"

"Who's my Devrani?" Nishita pressed, stepping closer to him. Krishna, towering over her at nearly six-foot-four, looked momentarily flustered. He was taller than anyone else in the family, including his father and brother, but Nishita was unfazed. In fact, she relished the height difference. It meant he couldn't avoid her gaze, especially now as he blushed furiously.

Krishna wasn't as fair as Jagdish and preferred to have a bit of scruff on his face, unlike Jagdish, who probably sanded his jaws and cheeks on that goddamned marble of the bathroom daily to maintain his clean-shaven appearance. Jagdish's morning ritual was a joke among her friends—they suspected he had a secret life as a marble sculptor, keeping his face smooth by sheer friction.

Why am I thinking about that asshole now?

Because your husband looks like he was sculpted from marble, his body and face and everything...

Why do you sound so horny? And why do you always have to oppose me?

Maybe because I enjoy it...

Ugh!

The words "There's no one" came out of Krishna's mouth in a strangled yelp, his voice cracking like a twig underfoot and cutting her thoughts short.

Nishita, chin jutting out, closed the gap between them. "Are you sure, Krishna?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

He felt a hint of intimidation, "Nishi—"

"Bhabhi," She corrected, poking a finger into his sternum to punctuate each word. "Your. Bhabhi. Got it memorized, little Devarji?"

He huffed, a retort forming on his lips. But before it could escape, her hand shot out like a viper, snagging the crisp note from his pocket. She dangled it in front of him. "Or should I say, Mr. Secret Note Holder?"

Krishna's eyes bulged like a startled frog's. "Nishita! Give me that back!" he roared, lunging for the note.

Nishita, with a triumphant smirk, snatched the note further out of his reach, treating it like a winning lottery ticket. "Whoa there!" she said, her voice laced with amusement. "First things first: it's Bhabhi, it always has to be Bhabhi, got it?"

She darted backward, weaving through the living room furniture with the agility of a dancer. "Second," she continued, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "tell me this mysterious woman's name. Shouldn't I, your ever-so-knowledgeable Bhabhi, get to know my Devrani a little better?"

Subhadra, perched on the corner sofa like a silent observer, couldn't help but smirk as she scrolled through her phone, clearly enjoying the fireworks between them.

Krishna, flustered and desperate, stumbled back and tripped over a stray coffee table leg. A yelp of pain escaped his lips as he landed with a thud. "Nishita!" he groaned, clutching his shin. "There's no one like that, please believe me!"