The Workaholic Wife ✅

Bittersweet

His lop-sided smile turns into a wicked smile by the time I finish responding to his simple one-word question.

"So, what's the nickname?" He asks, leaning in close as if he were going to kiss me. I lean back in the chair, putting my right hand on his chest and nodding my head sideways, signaling to Aniket that Mayma was sitting right beside me.

Aniket smirks at my embarrassment and continues to torment me by putting his hand on my waist and pulling me in along with the chair in one swift motion.

God, why is he so smooth all of a sudden? I glare at him out of the corner of my eye and shove his large hands off my tiny waist. "Hmph, Stop doing that." I growl, leaning near his ear as quietly as possible.

Meanwhile, Mayma is humming the tune of a bajan, and trying to peel onions with a rusted knife.

"You are my wife, aren't you? Then, I can touch you however and wherever I want." He hisses into my ear.

Hearing his comment, I've had enough. I would have slapped him, but since Mayma and my mother are two inches away from me, they probably would not approve. I jump off the chair, making sure to exit as dramatically as possible.

I go out to see my father and Pops sitting side by side in the driveway, on the concrete floor, slightly gasping as they try to fix the busted tire.

"Want some help, old man?" I ask, putting a hand on my father's shoulder.

"Sure, kuty. Do your magic." Papi smiles at me, and I hug him for trusting in me. After all, he was my teacher.

I purse my lips at Pops, who has his mouth open in shock as I sit down tucking in my cotton saree.

"So, how long has the air compressor been in there for?" I ask, inspecting the tire.

"For about ten minutes, we think there's some sort of metal sticking out of the bottom. You know about Indian streets." Papi says, sighing.

"Yeah." I say, turning my head to the side absentmindedly. "Where's the key?"

"Here." Papi says, pulling the keys out of his Khaki pants and placing it on my rosy hands.

"Thanks." I yell, as I open the car door and hoping onto the black seat. I jam the key into the ignition, and fire up the engines. I move the car until Papi tells me to stop, and I shove my feet onto the brakes, halting the slow roll of the tires.

I come out of the car, taking the silver key out of the ignition and slamming the door shut. I turn to face the front tire, a brownish metal was protruding out of its side.

"Pull it out, Pops." I order, turning to Pops. Pops moves a step and clutches onto the metal, pulling it out with a groan. I can hear the air rushing out, freeing itself from the contained space of the tire.

Papi covers the gaping hole with his calloused hands, effectively stopping the air by putting his weight and replacing the air with the air from the air compressor.

"Do you want the remove it? We can't plug it when it's facing sideways." I say, scratching the back of my neck and sighing. "Get the jack." I say to Papi, as I replace the hole with my small pudgy hands.

Papi runs to his truck to get the jack and a toolkit, and out of the corner of my eyes, I can see my mother and Aniket trudge down our stairs and towards me. Mayma follows them, trying to stop them from yelling at me. "That is not a woman's job!" My mother yells, marching down our front yard. "And you're pregnant! You shouldn't be doing this." She yells, her hands making weird gestures.

Papi and I ignore her, and I place the jack about a feet away from the tire. I place the lug wrench on the lug nuts and crank them to the left, loosening all six of them before moving to jack up the car.