Begusarai - The saga continue

037

The soft clinking of bangles stirred Achintya from his sleep. His brown eyes found his wife, Niyati, standing in front of the ornate dressing table.

Her wet hair dripped onto her back as she struggled to adjust the pleats of the saree, a deep yellow and red one that had once belonged to his mother. Now it belonged to Niyati.

He propped himself up on one arm, watching her with fond amusement. It was clear she didn't know how to handle the heavy, embroidered saree.

The pleats kept getting tangled, and she looked adorably frustrated, glaring at the fabric as if it was deliberately misbehaving.

Remembering the incident from the previous night brought him hope. Hope that, despite however upset she might get with him, her love wouldn't lessen.

But it also brought him worry, recalling her tear-stained cheeks. Niyati had had a nightmare last night, and he hadn't even known.

He had slept soundly while she must have been struggling. What kind of a fucking twat was he?

The bangles clinked again, pulling him out of his thoughts. She looked so cute, standing there wrapped in a saree she didn't know how to wear, glaring at the pleats that refused to cooperate.

"Need help?" he called, and she jumped, causing the few good pleats to unravel. Her hand went to her heart as it raced. Oh lord, is her entire morning going to be like this?

Every time?

She watched him approach her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Should I help?"

"No," snapped Niyati, feeling warm and flustered. She turned, hoping not to see him, but her eyes landed on the mirror. The picture they painted together-despite him just waking up, he still managed to outshine many fully dressed people. There was a sharp sound of bone cracking as he stretched his neck to both sides, when he smirked at her through the mirror, her heart fluttered.

Oh lord!

Just kill her already. On top of everything, he had to have this quality too? What didn't this man have? Decency and shame, Niyati decided after hearing his next words.

"You can turn around and gawk; I'm all yours to look at..."

"Go get Nupur Bhabhi or Gayatri," she demanded. "I need help."

But Achintya ignored her request, still amused. He knelt before her, looking up from his position with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "You married me, Jaan,not Nupur bhabhi or Gayatri. If you need help, you call me."

Niyati watched him with wide eyes as he expertly handled the saree, guiding her through the process. After a few tries and about fifteen minutes, she twirled in front of the mirror, admiring how perfectly the saree now fit.

"How do you even know how to do this?" she asked, impressed. "Do you wear sarees in your free time?"

He grinned. "I've never worn one, but I'm sure if I did, I'd look better than most people." At her giggle, his smile softened, and he reached up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I used to help Maa when she wore sarees. She taught me."

"Really? Maa did?" Niyati asked, her voice soft with curiosity as his hand trailed from her cheek down to her neck, where a delicate gold chain rested.

"Hm. The saree you're wearing now belonged to her. She wore it at her wedding. I have pictures-"

"Can I see them?" Niyati asked, her eyes lighting up.

"Later... They're in Papa's room," he replied as her smile dimmed a bit. She didn't even realize it, but as the cold air blew in from the window she had opened that morning, she shivered slightly and moved closer to him. Not only was his hand on her throat, but it was also on her bare back.