Circle of Trust

Chapter 2

Varun braced himself against the wall and stood under the cold shower. His teeth started chattering, but he gritted it firmly and took the assault. The icy water spraying down on him full throttle didn’t chase away his suspicion. Naina wasn’t telling him the truth.

For months, she had made excuses to stay away from him, and he had let her. She had a deadline to meet; she could write only in the nights, he was a distraction, she needed to check on mom and Ria and it went on. Even his suggestions of daytime trysts got shot down and oh, how well she had shot it down. His lips tingled with the memory. She had a way of drawing him in completely with a simple kiss.

His need for her shocked him at times. While his co-workers pulled everything in their book to delay getting back home, his entire being gravitated towards home – his daughter Ria and especially Naina. Increasingly, he had found himself finding excuses to stick to his wife. He would follow her, sometimes with just his eyes when she went about doing her work around the house.

He was 34; he needed to act his age, damn it! Varun snapped the shower nozzle shut and grabbed a towel off a rack. Lilac. He groaned. His wife loved pastel shades while he would give anything to see her in red. He threw the lilac one in the sink and grabbed a white one, and vigorously rubbed the moisture off his body.

An extremely fit Varun stared back at him, and he couldn’t help the rueful smile that settled on his lips. Lack of physical exercise at home, the kind he loved, had driven him to the gym everyday for the past month. Even his trainer commented on it. Flexing his muscles, he preened at how fit he looked. He was thrilled at the way Naina seemed to have trouble taking her eyes off him. Giving himself a final onceover in the mirror, he tied the towel around his hips and turned to open the door.

A rush of running footsteps and later a loud bang on the door made him pause. He bit back the laughter that bubbled inside his chest. His little fireball was home.

“Papa, papa. Open the door!” A series of bangs followed with a few stomps from the impatient little minion. “Uff. I know you’re inside. I saw your car.”

Varun’s hand flew up to cover his mouth to trap the happy scream in. He couldn’t wait to see his little one, but couldn’t honestly miss a chance to see her agitated. She was her dramatic best when things didn’t instantly go her way.

“It’s your car. I know it is.” He heard her stomp her feet strongly for good measure.

Varun could imagine his daughter standing in front of the bathroom door, with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. He couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing but quickly morphed it into a loud growl, Ria’s favorite character, Simba’s angry growl.

The tapping stopped on the other side, silence stretched, and after what seemed like ages; a slow answering growl erupted from behind the closed door. Varun threw open the door, shook his wet hair on his daughter’s stunned face, and scooped her up into his arms. He rubbed his head into her stomach making her clutch his hair tight.

“Stop it papa, stop it. Your hair is wet.” Ria squealed and kicked him repeatedly in his chest.

“I am Simba, the lion king. I’m hungry. I’m going to eat you!” Varun swung her sideways and bit her upper arm, making her squeal.

“No papa…um…Simba. I’m your friend, Timon. You shouldn’t eat me. Stop, stop!”

He set his, now serious looking, daughter on the couch and knelt in front of her.

“Is it? Why shouldn’t Simba eat his friend? He is hungry na and there’s no other food around.”

Ria stuck her chin to her chest, crossed her arms, and shook her head. “No. Friends don’t eat friends,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.