All Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Rakshasi," he accuses, narrowing his eyes at me. "Difference enti?" [What is the difference?]

"Intention, I guess?" I offer, "and intensity, too."

"Can I get upset at you for this?" he wonders out loud, mostly to himself, but I feel compelled to answer.

"Sure you can," I let him know, "but I don't know if I would really try to coddle you."

Dhushyanth glances at me from the corner of his eyes, and curls his lips in distaste. "I'm sleeping," he announces, "have an early morning tomorrow."

Just as soon as his head hits the pillow, I find myself annoyed with him. "You have an early morning every morning," I remind him, "ninna rathri mathram, tell me about your day, tell me more ani rathri antha melkopettav." [But last night, you kept me up, asking me to tell you more about my day, and then some.]

"Last night, you didn't slap me," he says, not turning around.

"I apologised!" I cry out, "and now that I can't have sex, you're just choosing—"

"What do you mean you can't?" he asks, turning around, his eyebrows rising suggestively.

"I will slap you for real this time," I warn him, understanding the implication. "That's disgusting."

"Just extra lubrication—"

"You're gross."

"Might help with the period pain to orgasm," he goes on.

"You know an awful lot about orgasms and period pains," I remark, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Only about orgasms," he answers, refusing to get trapped.

I find my lips quirking up, aware that he knows what I'm playing at. "Shut up," I tell him, lying down on his chest, and pulling his arm to wrap around me.

Dhushyanth's chest rumbles with withheld laughter. "Aw, my wife can't get enough of me," he murmurs, brushing my cheek with his thumb.

"Tell me about your day," I ask him, "how is the campaign going?"

"It's alright," he answers, adjusting me on top of him. "I think the people are receiving us quite well, to be honest."

"When are your friends coming?" I ask him. "Meera said she wants to come as well. She'd called me in the morning."

"Meera?" Dhushyanth sounds surprised. "Is she coming to visit you?"

"She said she wants to campaign, too," I answer, "we used to go campaigning for nanna every summer."

"But she might implicate Veer or her father by being here?"

"I don't think they'd mind, plus it's not like they're coming themselves. I think she'll be fine."

"That is very sweet of Meera," Dhushyanth appreciates.

"She obviously loves me too much," I point out, "no one would come to Kurnool in this blistering heat otherwise. Actually, on that note, we should help out with drinking water in villages."

"Drinking water?" Dhushyanth questions, "but we're already giving people money—"

"This is more important," I insist.

"I can look into it—"

"No, I said we should. We must. It's an especially hot summer, not everyone has the ability to afford packaged drinking water, and the drought hasn't left much water at all."

"Sita—"

"Dhushyanth, this is the kind of politician you want to be," I remind him, "this is what the people need. And whether or not it gets you votes, it'll get you blessings and a whole lot of goodwill."