Igniculus

III

He has been a fool, he thought. Such a right little fool to ignore what has literally been right there in front of him day in, day out since, well, quite a long time. He gulped, clenching his hands, frozen in time, unable to move on from the tableau in front of him: his wife sprawled on the side of the bed, fast asleep; looking ethereal as the weak January sunlight spread across her.

He wondered if he had been blind before not to notice just how casually beautiful she was, even in her currently rumpled form, arms and legs splayed akimbo, hair carelessly strewn over the pillows as she slept on her side, facing the large windows.

No, he thought, as the blood rushed through him, and he thought back to the many teeny tiny glimpses he had stolen of her over the many months of their marriage, peeking over the top of his duvet, from his bed, watching her sleeping on the abysmal couch; he had always been aware of just how much of a pretty sleeper she was.

Known and done nothing, there was always something holding him back, keeping him from giving in, keeping distant, letting all those charged moments slip by, like a pathetic fool, while other men have admired her and laughed at him for missing the elephant in the room. He wished he could tell, had the right to tell her just how stunning she was, from those kind but haughty eyes which always held him as if at knife point, demanding answers, getting their way to those soft inviting lips he had always avoided looking for the things they did to him and those collarbones together with her neck, driving him to distraction.

He grinned suddenly, laughing quietly at himself for ogling his wife like a crude schoolboy when he knew he could have had so much more, if only he'd not kept running away from her.
He should not be doing this, he thought suddenly, when she was indisposed and asleep and without her permission. Yet he could not move on from her, his legs would not answer him. So he tries looking at something innocuous and then truly chuckles, shaking his head at her.
Savi, you idiot, he thought, trying to dislodge the large, heavy UPSC tome she has been clutching to herself, even in her sleep, like a child would a teddy bear.

And then he froze as she made a childlike whining noise and blinked and suddenly he was staring at the gorgeous, confused, sleepy eyes of his wife. All thoughts flew from his mind and all of his earlier resolve fled, leaving him on edge, heart hammering.

Savi looked quizzically to see him looming down on her, hair astray, his nightshirt uncharacteristically crumpled and open wide at the collar and jumped to the worst conclusion and Rajat was left watching her face transform to ice, her eyes like chips.

"You? What're you doing here? What do you want?" she almost hisses at him, her voice dangerously low as she springs up from the bed.

"Uh no— I was looking for y— I mean, I—," he stutters, trying to think of one good reason why he might be at her bedside, gawking at her, this early on at dawn. Her eyes narrow and she gets up, causing him to take an immediate step back, looming over him in her fury despite the difference in their heights.

"I—I—err was—err looking for this!" he says triumphantly, lunging behind her towards the bed where he picked up the small item tucked away beside her pillow, holding it up aloft as if to ward off whatever blows he's sure she's about to make.

"Oh," she said, completely thrown. He'd come for the small bottle of balm she'd taken out at night to massage her aching head. She wondered what had he been up to the previous night to need a balm in the morning, trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest at the thought. What do I care, she thought.
"Well, I leave you to it then," she said dully, trying to move past him, to get away from as quickly as possible before she could no longer keep her breathing even.

But she crashed into him, as he moved to keep himself between her and the exit, her face in his chest. She stepped back in surprise or tried to, as he clamped a hand over her arm.

"Can you help me put this on," he stammers.
"Why?" she snaps back.
"A-actually it's my back— I — err — slept on the sofa last night and you know my height, it's not easy to fit in to that stupid thing so — please," he rambled on a bit nervously but she caught on only one thing.

"You slept on the sofa?" she asked.
"I slept on the sofa," pat came his reply, looking directly into her eyes for the first time. She felt a frisson of relief as a knot in her chest she never realised existed till now, loosened.

"I thought I wasn't here for such things as putting balm on you?" she said trying to move away, still not quite able to forget all the events of the previous night, and all the nights past when he'd always made such a big fuss about the simple care of putting on balm.

"No-oo who else but you," he panicked, pulling her towards the high backed chair next to the bed and falling into it, almost pulling her down on him.

Savi pulled back immediately, not able to keep her face from going red, as her eyes widened, locked on to his.

"Please," he whispered again, his hands pulling her back towards him. pushing the bottle into hers, eyes pleading.

Face flaming, she gestured him to take off his shirt. His eyes held hers, intent, scanning her face, looking at her in a way he'd never looked at her before, as they both somehow managed to take off his shirt.

Her breath hitched as she looked away sharply, trying to avoid his gaze, as she was presented with a bare-chested Rajat Thakkar, her insides mush.
She breathed in, trying to get a grip on herself and focus on the task at hand and not on him devoid of shirt and on the fact that he was unabashedly staring at her.
She gritted her teeth and opened the bottle, applying the balm on his back with trembling fingers.

He gulped this time and his hold on her waist tightened and her eyes flew back to his; wide eyes locking on to fiercely intent ones. For a moment they stared together, frozen in place and yet there are sparks all around them, neither daring to breathe, everything is charged.

A loud bang sounded from below and someone cursed loudly downstairs.

Savi jumped back, the bottle of balm clattering away, and fled the room, her face a furnace while Rajat crashed to his feet too late to stop her fleeing.