Warning: long and unedited chapter ahead.
Arjun
I walk into our room, ready to be faced with the sight of Arvi getting dressed for dinner, seeing that it's already 6:30 and we need to be at the Chetti's house by 7:30, latest.
However, I open the door to my wife cocooned in a blanket, her messy hair sprawled over the pillow she lay on.
I can't help but awe at the sight. Arvi usually wakes up at the slightest of sounds. Unlike me, she's a light sleeper.
She must be really tired if she hasn't woken up even after I entered the room, with the door opening and closing; it clicks really loud.
Maybe I shouldn't have kept her awake for a major part of the night.
But can you blame a deprived man for indulging a willing woman? His hot as fuck, sexy wife at that? I wouldn't.
I pad over to Arvi, successful at not making a sound, and kneel next to the bed, observing her sleeping form.
I wonder if I should wake her up, but she'd hardly gotten any sleep last night and she'd also had to wake up early for the meeting this morning.
Making a mental note to ask her about how the meeting went, I kiss her forehead, choosing to let her sleep until I finish showering.
Shrugging my coat off, I proceed to remove my socks and undo my tie before stepping into the bathroom.
By the time I'm back, Arvi is awake and staring at the painting that we got as a wedding gift from Sameeksha.
"Morning, sleepy beauty," I greet, tightening the towel around my waist before walking over to her.
Arvi looks at me and blinks a couple of times, before looking back at the painting. "Why haven't we ever danced after our sangeet?"
I chuckle, not masking my amusement. "I thought you don't like to dance?" I question her, before continuing to tease, "or is it just an excuse to get out of dancing with me?"
"Nah, I really don't like to dance," she says, lifting herself to rest against the headboard. "What's the time?" she asks, hiding a yawn behind her palm.
"6:50."
Arvi's eyes widen and she turns to look at the balcony. "It's late!" she exclaims, pushing the blanket off herself. "I thought I'd wake up when you got home. And it's so late!"
"Hey, I got home very early because you told me we were to go out for dinner," I defend myself.
"Yes, you did," she agrees. "Thank you. But can you please pick out my clothes for me? I'm going to take a shower."
"Me?" I point to myself.
"Yes!" Arvi utters, pulling her long hair into a bun. "Is there someone else in the room?"
"No." I try to rephrase so that she knows exactly what she's asking me to do. "You're asking me to pick out clothes for you? You'll wear whatever I lay out for you?"
"Isn't that what I've been saying?" Arvi asks, rushing to pick up a towel. "What is up with you?"
I shrug. "Just making sure you know."
Arvi shakes her head, muttering something to herself as she enters the bathroom.
I walk into the closet and throw on a polo tee and jeans before taking to examine all of Arvi's clothes.
Not wanting to face my wife's wrath, I look for clothes that may be appropriate for dinner.
She looks her best in a saree, her maturity complimenting the fabric and her confidence radiating through the folds of the lengthy material. Modest, yet enticing, and the look on her face every time she manages to drape one around herself successfully. But it would take her some time to wear one now.
How about jeans and a shirt?
I try to imagine Arvi's expressions on finding the clothes laid out for her. There's a murderous gleam in her eyes even in my imagination.
How about a dress? When we went out to dinner with the entire family a couple of months ago, Arvi was wearing a dress. I suppose that would mean that a dress is dinner-appropriate?
Concluding that a dress would be the best option, I try to find one in her messy side of the wardrobe. I pick out white coloured clothing first, and upon opening it, I realise that it's the one Arvi had worn back in Palawan.
It is a beautiful dress, no denying that, but somehow, I deduce that Arvi may not want to wear it to dinner. Maybe it would be too casual?
Ditching that idea, I try to fold the dress to put it back in the rack, but end up bundling it, unable to fold it properly.
If this continues, I'll end up messing up Arvi's clothes more than they already are.
I decide to pick out just one dress instead of picking out each of them, inspecting them and putting them back, not wanting to make the wardrobe messy.
But how will I know which one to choose if I don't see it properly?
Why is it so hard to find a dress for Arvi?
Consoling myself, I look around again. This time, my eyes land on a dress that's hanging in a different rack. A chocolate brown coloured floral dress. Perhaps it would reach her calves? Deciding that this would be it, I pick up the hanger and dress and lay it out on the bed.
I wonder if I should also pick out her underwear, the thought exciting me endlessly, but what would Arvi think?
She might not appreciate it if I went through her underwear drawer. But it's not like I haven't ever seen her underwear. I've seen, touched and undone, but how would I know how she'd feel about it?
I try to place myself in her shoes. How would I feel if Arvi picked out my boxers for me? I certainly wouldn't mind.
But I don't suppose my boxers are as exciting as what she wears underneath her clothes.
That is more exciting than one can imagine.
Not wanting to mess with Arvi's privacy because of assumptions, I choose not to touch her drawer, and sit down on the couch, trying to squeeze in some work before dinner but my head is muddled with thoughts of my wife.
Will she like what I picked out for her?
She can't not like clothes that she'd gotten for herself. Right?
I can't tell. Savitri goes shopping for clothes and comes back with clothes she hates. Why would she buy clothes she hates?
But this is a pretty dress.
And Arvi did agree to wear whatever I pick out for her.
She'll look beautiful in anything she wears anyway, but now that she's asked me to pick out a dress for her, and I have, I want her to like it.
I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door clicking open, signalling her arrival.
Arvi tip-toes out of the bathroom. She looks at me for a mere moment, before quickly looking away, giving me a peek at the side of her slender neck.
A reddish bruise sits on her neck, glaring proudly. Is that a hickey? How hadn't I noticed it this morning?
My legs carry me over to her as she walks to the bed. "What is that?" I ask her, pointing to her neck.
Arvi touches the area with her fingers and winces slightly. Pulling her hand back, she glares at me. "What do you think it is?"
I offer her a sheepish grin. "A hickey?"
"A hickey?" she ridicules. "I feel like I've married a bloody vampire. I have love bites everywhere!"
"Where else?" I ask curiously.
She stretches her neck and points to the other side of her neck. "Here," she points to one, and then another below that one, one on the back of her shoulder.
"That's not everywhere," I tease. If my memory serves right, Arvi's words are no exaggeration.
Arvi gulps and tightens the barely-there towel around her full chest that peaks over the cloth. "That's still a lot."
"But not everywhere."
Arvi looks up at me with narrowed eyes. "I am going to go and get dressed," she tells me slowly, and decisively, trying to discourage me from making any suggestive comments.
"Okay," I concede, biting back a smirk as I settle on the edge of the bed, and watch her grow confused before she takes doubtful steps towards the closet as though waiting for me to pounce on her.
"Do you need help getting dressed?" I tease when she looks back at me from the door of the closet.
Shaking her head with a ferocity that caused strands of her hair to fall out of the bun, she quickly enters the smaller attachment and closes the door with a loud thud.
Immediately, the door opens again. She peaks out, looking sheepish as she mutters a sorry and closes the door again, quickly.
I chuckle at Arvi's antics, shaking my head at myself. Sometimes, I wonder if I shouldn't be teasing her so much, but she's just too cute when she's blushing like this or is annoyed, and I can't resist the urge to provoke her.
Arvi
Twenty minutes later, I finish concealing the visible love bites and decide I don't have enough time for makeup and choose to go natural, only powdering my face so that it doesn't look oily from the moisturiser and adding a bindi between my brows. I look at myself in the mirror.
I'd gotten this dress when we went to Dubai for my bachelorette but hadn't worn it until now due to lack of occasion.
Ruffling my hair a little, to make it look presentable, I peak out of the closet.
"Are you ready?" Arjun asks, looking at me.
I step out carefully, on my toes. "What do you think?" I ask him, doing a little twirl.
He blows me a kiss, causing me to giggle. "Is the dress okay?" he enquires gently.
"Why? Is something wrong with it?" I ask him, trying to look at the back of the dress.
"No, I mean, do you like it?"
I lift my shoulders in an obvious way. I'm wearing it, aren't I? Plus, Arjun picked it out himself.
"It is in my wardrobe," I state obviously. Why would it be in my wardrobe if I don't like it?
"Okay," he says, nodding. "But is everything okay with the dress? Is it appropriate for dinner? Are you comfortable? Do you like wearing it?"
I touch Arjun's forehead to see if he's sick, but when his forehead doesn't feel warm, I go on to press the back of my fingers against his neck. "Baby, are you fine?"
"I'm fine," Arjun says, pushing my hand away.
"Then why so many questions? I'll change the dress if it doesn't look good," I tell him, turning to look at myself in the mirror. I straighten the dress and look up at the mirror. "It is fine, right?" I ask, turning to look at him.
"You look beautiful," Arjun assures me, pressing a kiss against my cheek as his hands come around me in a warm hug. Squishing me in his arms, he presses another kiss to my exposed shoulder, making me laugh as he rubs his nose on the area, tickling me.
"Veladhaama?" I ask, turning around in his arms. [(Telugu) Shall we go?]
He nods, kissing my forehead before releasing me. "Let's go."
Just as we reach the ground floor, hand-in-hand, Gayatri Athayya catches sight of us as she talks on the phone, quickly hanging up with a promise to call back later.
"Let me take a picture of you two!" she exclaims.
"Amma, we're getting late," Arjun tries to pull us out of it, but Athayya is adamant.
"How long will one picture take, Arjun? Stop whining and stand properly! Everyone in the family keep asking for pictures of the newlyweds!"
"So send them the wedding pictures."
"Shut up and put your hand around Arvi. I'm going to take a picture," Gayatri Athayya announces in a no-nonsense tone.
"This is how you talk to your son in front of his wife?" Arjun mocks his mother, following her instructions anyway.
"So you snap at your mother in front of her daughter-in-law?" she retorts, taking a step back to adjust the frame.
"Oye, are you both married or what? Why are you standing like that?" she scolds.
I look down at my neck to make sure I'm wearing my mangalasutram. Athayya seems to take note of my action, she sighs, slapping her forehead. "I didn't mean look married, I meant look intimate," she clarifies.
"Ma," Arjun protests, taking a look at my tomato-red face.
"What?" she asks, acting oblivious even as a smile tugs at her lips.
Like mother, like son.
I wrap both of my arms around Arjun, instead of just one around his back and lay my head on his chest, hoping this is intimate enough for my mother-in-law. Arjun sighs and holds me back.
"Is this good enough?" he asks.
Athayya mutters something about us not belonging in this generation of PDA as she satisfies herself by clicking a few pictures.
"I said one picture, and they don't pose for more than one," she murmurs, throwing us both a fake-angry look.
Chuckling lightly, I kiss her cheek, bidding bye. "You teach us how to pose next time, Athayya," I tell her, solemnly. "We'll take pictures when you and Mamayya go to Vinod Uncle's party tomorrow."
Athayya's face flushes red, and she slaps my arm lightly. "Go now, aren't you getting late?"
Arjun breaks a smile and kisses his mother on the top of her head, saying bye and grasps my hand once again.
"Careful! Both of you look too cute together! Intiki vachaaka dhishti theepinchukondi!" she calls after us. [Make sure to get the evil eye removed when you come back home!]
Arjun gives his mother a thumbs up and we get in his car that's parked on the driveway.
"Arjun," I start hesitantly as we exit the front gate.
"Hm?" Arjun hums, giving me the 'go' to continue, as he fiddles with the AC.
"You're definitely fine with the dinner, aren't you?" I ask. "I know you said it's okay, but in case you're not, we don't have to go. I can tell Manjula Aunty that I'm not feeling well or something. And since you'll be leaving—" I sigh, unable to finish the sentence— "We won't have to go any time soon. She'll probably forget by the time you're back."
"Arvi," he admonishes. "I can sit at dinner with Siddharth and enjoy it," he assures me.
I redden up with the embarrassment of being caught. I know I had basically laid it out when I said we didn't have to go, but I took care not to mention Siddharth.
"Sorry," I apologise, abashedly. "I know you're past all of that, but if you're uncomfortable—"
"I'll let you know," he promises.
"Even in the slightest," I insist.
"Even in the slightest," he assures, shooting me a warm smile.
I want to hug Arjun, but the seatbelt prevents me from reaching all the way over to him, so I satisfy myself by kissing the back of his hand.
"I love you," I whisper softly, pressing my cheek against his knuckles.
Perhaps I'd been too inaudible, Arjun doesn't respond. I can't blame him for whatever causes my voice to get like that when I say the words to him, so I simply lower our hands and switch radio stations, trying to find a song.
"Listen—" Arjun clears his throat.
"Listening," I imitate his tone, and chuckle at my own half-assed joke.
"I wanted to ask—" he clears his throat again.
"Are you fine?" I ask him.
I turn to look at him as he scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes trained on the road.
"I'm fine," he says, but clears his throat again.
I can't help the amused chuckle that escapes me. "Seriously— are you fine?"
"I am, I am. I just— never mind."
"Gosh," I vocalise my surprise. "Why won't you just ask?"
"Fine," he relents, looking at me. "How would you feel if I gifted you lingerie?"
I choke on my saliva and start coughing uncontrollably.
"Fuck," Arjun curses, bringing the car to a halt. He pats my head to help me control the coughing. "This probably wasn't the best time for the question," he says, giving me a bottle of water he'd pulled out from the door.
I give him the stink eye as I take small sips of water. Arjun avoids looking at me, pressing his lips together to hide the smile that's so obvious on his face.
I hand the bottle back to my husband and cross my arms over my chest, looking straight ahead to save myself from embarrassment.
Now, I don't think I'd mind it. I mean, maybe I'd even appreciate it. In my defence: who doesn't appreciate gifts? But how would I respond to that question?
How would you feel if I gifted you lingerie?
I don't know... I have come far from the person I initially was, in Arjun's company, but I haven't been able to gather enough courage to even try the lingerie that the girls gave me.
It's not because I don't want to, just that I don't know how Arjun might react to it, and if I'm confident enough to pull it off.
Scaredy cat.
I should stop incorporating Vithi's vocabulary into my own.
"Can I ask another question?" Arjun asks.
"You just did," I tell him childishly, hoping to get out of this predicament without getting redder than I already am.
"Okay," Arjun says, lowering the handbrake. "Maybe later, then."
Maybe later.
~.~.~.~.~
"I invited you for dinner on the day of your wedding," Manjula Aunty reminds me, leading both of us into her house. "You've come a month later!"
"Are you saying that we're not welcome now?" I ask her, widening my innocent eyes to go with the act.
"How can a daughter not be welcome?" Manjula Aunty asks. "I just wish she'd visit more often."
"I will," I promise her.
"None of you come to visit after Siddharth's moved out," she complains. "The other day, Dhruv came over and he left without sitting for five minutes because Siddharth wasn't here! And the girls! They're so busy! And you! Well, I can't blame you, married life takes some getting used to."
"Why will my friends visit you, Amma?" Sid asks, walking over as he munches on an apple.
"Yes, why will my son's friends visit me, when he himself doesn't care whether his mother is alive or dead in this house?"
"Aunty," I admonish her. "Don't say things like that."
"He doesn't visit, Arvi! He's come home today only because Arjun and you have come for dinner."
"So you don't visit me in my house, either," Sid says. "How many times have I asked that you come over?"
Aunty doesn't answer the question. She only throws him a glare and takes away the half-eaten apple from his grasp. "How will you eat dinner if you're filling your stomach with fruits now?"
"Arvi and Arjun must've been really busy," Siddharth acknowledges the two of us with a teasing smile, letting go of the matter of visiting. "I was hungry."
He gives Arjun a hug that the latter returns rather normally, as though he were simply greeting a friend, and I can't help but feel surprised at the sight.
I know Arjun had made an effort to be cordial with Siddharth, but I didn't think he'd be particularly friendly with him. The display is a pleasant surprise.
We proceed towards the dining room. Arjun and Siddharth make conversation while I content myself with listening to them talk to each other and get along so well.
"How is married life?" Manjula Aunty enquires, gently, following my gaze to my husband and best friend.
"It's been very pleasant," I tell her. "Athayya and Mamayya are really sweet to me, and Arjun's been very supportive, always."
Manjula Aunty smiles happily. "And your parents? How are they? Rohan? Karthik? Pranathi?"
"They're doing well," I answer. "Rohan is applying to colleges abroad, Karthik's learning to balance work-life and personal life, he'll really need it since he's going to be a father."
"A father, I've heard," Aunty says, her smile widening. "It's such good news! How is your Vadina?"
"She has really bad morning sickness," I reply, "she hasn't been able to go to work."
"Oh," Manjula Aunty sympathises. "When I was pregnant with Siddharth, I had morning sickness, too! Neeraj would be so worried!"
"Karthik Anna is trying to be there for her as much as possible." It's why he was late to the meeting this morning, too. He freaked out because Pranathi Vadina felt really sick and took her to the doctor.
Manjula Aunty smiles. "Karthik's always been a wonderful boy. If I had a daughter, I would've begged him to marry her."
I laugh. "He's always been thoughtful and responsible," I agree.
"He compensates for what you don't have," Siddharth teases from the side.
"Even if you had ten siblings, they wouldn't have been able to compensate for your lack of intelligence, wits, smarts, responsibility, thoughtfulness, sensibility, common sense—"
"Does it end?" Siddharth poses, interrupting me.
I pretend to give it a thought for a moment and shake my head. "It's endless."
"We'll save for later, then," he promises sincerely, without shame.
Manjula Aunty shakes her head. "Will the two of you ever change?" she asks, sighing. "Always taunting each other." Shrugging, she continues, "at least you don't hit each other anymore."
Siddharth and I glance at each other sheepishly, grimacing embarrassedly. I guess we haven't changed at all.
"Hit each other?" Arjun asks, surprised.
"Oh, Arvi and Siddharth have a violent history," Manjula Aunty tells him. "Come, come, we haven't even started on your wife and you're already surprised," she urges him into the dining table, allowing a male help to pull out a chair for Arjun.
"Neeraj Uncle will be down in a few minutes," she informs me. "He was at a shooting today."
"We could've done this another day, Aunty. Uncle must be tired."
"Oh, I've been pestering you to come over for dinner for a month and you've found time now. God alone knows when I would've caught you if I postponed the dinner!" she admonishes, sitting in a chair opposite me.
"And I'm not tired enough to miss out on meeting the lucky man who managed to marry our angel," Neeraj Uncle booms cheerfully, walking in with a huge smile.
Siddharth fake-coughs when Uncle refers to me as an angel.
"Give this son of mine some water," Neeraj Uncle says, not paying heed to Siddharth's immaturity.
~.~.~.~.~
"Since when are you such good friends with my husband?" I ask Siddharth while Arjun says his byes to Manjula Aunty and Neeraj Uncle, surpassing me as their favourite through his charm.
Siddharth wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. "Your husband?"
"Is he yours if not mine?" I ask sarcastically, braving the heat that rushes to my face and owning up to what I said.
"Oho," he teases.
"Shut up," I mutter, tugging at my bag's sling as I look down, biting back a smile that threatens to escape my lips.
"Arjun's going to Dubai next week," I tell him.
"He told me," Sid affirms.
"When?" I ask, surprised.
"When I asked him," Siddharth answers, as though this communication between them is an absolutely normal thing.
"When did you ask him?"
"Do you want date, day and time?"
I give him a blank look. "If you don't want me to ask stupid questions, tell me what I want to know."
Siddharth immaturely sticks his tongue out at me. "When you told me that Arjun was in Dubai for the meeting, I texted him, wishing him luck and after the meeting he texted me saying it was a success."
All I can do is let out a surprised, "oh."
"Yeah," Siddharth shrugs. "I think you can say we're friends at this point."
I smile fully. "Thank you, Siddhu."
Siddharth immaturely mimics my words squeakily and says, "I didn't do it for you, Arvu."
"Yes, sure. Whatever you want me to believe."
"Shut up," he says, the tips of his ears turning pink with embarrassment.
"I don't want him to go," I confess to Siddharth. "I'm really, really proud of him—" I glance at Arjun who's grinning as he leads the middle-aged couple with his charm— "he's been working really hard for this, but he's going to be living in Dubai, and God knows six months is enough time for a lot of changes. Sometimes—" I gulp, the thought of saying these words out for the first time, unnerving me— "I have bad thoughts— I wish the deal didn't come through, and then I scold myself, I hate myself for thinking that way; I know it's very selfish, but I can't help it."
"Arvi," Siddharth starts, softly, chuckling a little. "With love comes selfishness. It's very natural. You love Arjun, it's not a bad thing that you'd want to stay with him, and the occasional—" he double quotes with his fingers— "bad thought is bound to happen. Before you went off to London, a little part of all of us hoped you wouldn't go, you know? But it's okay because even if you love someone selflessly, there's a selfishness to love itself."
I don't know how, but at the moment, Siddharth's words make sense to me.
"To love is to respect your partner and everything they hold close to their hearts, to trust in them, to cherish them and a lot more, nothing's ever enough for the person you love. So, remember this: you're allowed to be selfish, you're expected to be selfish and you have every right to want your husband to be here with you, but the fact that you're proud of him; that you want him to pursue what his heart desires; that you're willing to support him with all of your heart even if you sometimes think of a hypothetical scenario where Arjun's here, with you instead of a faraway land is what matters.
"What matters is that you want what's best for your husband and that you're willing to do what it takes to take care of yourself, and your love. Okay? Because to every person who loves another, it's important that the person they love is safe and sound. Alright?"
A/N
Hellooo! Firstly, thank you so very much for being patient with me! I know my update schedule hasn't been the easiest to deal with, and I apologise for it, but as I had mentioned in the message on my feed, I'm moving out of home for college, and have been really busy with that.
This chapter's mostly just focusing on the progress Arvi and Arjun have made and show that they still have a long way to go, but the work on relationships never really ends, does it? You've always got to put in the effort for relationships you value.
I will be back with another update soon enough. Hopefully. Please bear with me for a few more days.
I can't say I'm really satisfied with this chapter, it feels like a draft of what I wanted, but do tell me what you think of it. I personally think Siddharth's too single and unstable in romantic relationships but has the knowledge of someone really well-versed with matters of the heart. How does that work?
Anyway. Bye for now,
Until next time,
With love,
A.