The one night of meaningful conversation between the two ensured that the ice had melted, the constrictions in their hearts eased away, and the couple could talk freely, lucid discourse flowing amongst them whenever the chance knocked at their doors. Stories of childhood and adulthood were shared, and though Piyali was overly honest with all her answers, Shubham was slightly embarrassed about letting his wife know about the series of casual flings he had had once upon a time in college. He wasn't sure why he couldn't bring himself to tell her, but deep inside his heart, he knew it would probably make the hormonal and pregnant woman furious and jealous.

She fell in love with him, albeit unknowingly, a bit more whenever he exhibited care and concern for her. Holding her hands as they strolled under the moon at night, fulfilling all her strange cravings irrespective of the ungodly hour she placed her demands at, and making it to dinner on time so that she wouldn't have to eat by herself—he did everything in his power to keep her happy and content. He got so busy making his wife satisfied in her pregnancy that he completely misremembered a certain someone he had once lost his heart to. He totally forgot Nandini and her betrayal, the way he had heard her confess her undying love for someone else, the way he found Aditya's jacket on her bed one night before the wedding. The only thing that played in his mind was the mother of his unborn child, her safety, her security, her health, and her overall well-being.

And Piyali knew now that Shubham wasn't just an over-protective father. He was also a wonderful husband who was fulfilling all his duties without a crease on his forehead irrespective of the way the two souls were brought together in this marriage. The saner part of her brain prompted her to carry out some of the wifely duties too like cooking for him, cleaning the house, or ironing his clothes, but then she was not an expert at household chores. Neither did she need to. The meal service Shubham had arranged for delivered fresh home cooked food at their doorstep with a wide range of cuisines to choose from, and the house-help arrived every morning sharp at 7 am to take care of the cleaning, laundry, dishes, and even Piyali's pregnancy needs.

But that evening, as she watched the clouds gather overhead and the lightning crossing the skies, her heart soared in joy at the idea of having something warm to drink while watching the rain. She got up from the couch, her hands protectively placed on her belly, but before she could reach the kitchen, a raucous rumble resounded from above, and she was startled. The outpour was torrential, accompanied by cyclones and tempests. The trees were nearly getting uprooted due to the force of the winds, and the rains were lashing consistently against the glass walls. Her first instinct was to call Shubham up and tell him to be safe at the office instead of driving back home under such circumstances, but she was baffled to learn from his secretary that he had not been in the office since earlier that afternoon.

Concern plagued her heart since the situation outside was growing worse, and prayers for her husband automatically escaped her mouth. Even the news channels were repeatedly saying the same thing over and over again. A downpour like that hadn't been seen in the Bay Area in over a decade. Gulping, she began pacing the length of the room, calling all his friends she knew of to ascertain his whereabouts, but her heart was beating at an erratic pace as everyone gave her a negative response.

Lunging the phone on the couch, she was about to collapse on it with her head in her hands when the front door clicked open, and she heaved a sigh of relief as a visibly exhausted and completely drenched Shubham entered the house, water dripping from his clothes and dampening the wooden floor.

"Oh, hey," he said when he caught sight of her by the sofa. "Can you please get me a towel?"

She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. Tears of relief they were because he was safe. He was okay. Nodding briefly, she went to the utility room to fetch a fresh towel from the cabinet, but she took a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the door, comprehending the range of emotions she had experienced within the span of a few hours.

She trudged back towards him, handing him the towel. "Did you... did you drive in these conditions?"

He wiped his wet hair with the fabric. "Yeah, and then I got drenched when walking back from the parking lot." He sniggered. "I didn't walk. I ran almost like a man escaping from the wrath of a lion."

But she didn't find it humorous as the frown coming up on her face became more well-defined. "And why were you not picking up your phone?"

He discerned the acerbity in her voice, but he was too tired to pay attention. "It died," he muttered, treading towards his room.

She clicked her tongue at the nonchalant way in which he left her standing in the doorway. Shutting the door, she went ahead to plop on the couch, her cheeks puffed up and flushed in annoyance. "Here we were, concerned about him, but he couldn't even ask how we have been." She roamed her palm over her belly. "How inconsiderate!"

It didn't take him long to shower and come back into the living area, but seeing the unopened boxes of food sitting on the kitchen counter while Piyali was still on the couch had him puzzled. "You didn't eat," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she muttered.

He advanced towards her. "Then why didn't you eat?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "We eat dinner together these days. That's why."

He pursed his lips. "You shouldn't have waited. Come now." He held out his arm for her to take, discerning the faint frown lines on her forehead. She was irked over something, which he couldn't quite understand. "Piyali?" he said when she refused to get up and turned her face away. "Is something wrong?"

She gaped at him, accusation pooling in her eyes. "You were not at the office, and you were not with any of our friends. And then you chose to drive back in such precarious conditions. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

His mouth hung open, and a thrill rushed through his spine. She had waited for him. She had been worried for his well-being. And she was not eating because she wanted his company. Once she glimpsed away again, he suppressed the grin threatening to appear on his lips. Leaning towards her, he whispered, "Were you missing me, wife?"

She could tell his lips were only an inch away from her cheeks as his hot breath fell on her skin, but she dared not crane her neck, for her skin was already tingling, and she was certain she was blushing under his gaze. Gulping, she slid away. "Where were you if not at the office?"

His fingers went to his lips, drumming over the pair. "Am I to assume my wife is getting insecure? Does she think I was with someone else?"

She scowled at him. "Don't you dare! Answer my question."

He chortled, stepping back. "I had a meeting with an investor. In San Jose."

"Oh!" She bit her tongue, mortification ringing through her senses.

"Let's eat something nice today, yes?" He went inside the kitchen, throwing open the cabinets and rummaging through the racks.

"But the food is ready." She gestured towards the unopened box of Rajma and rice on the counter.

"I am in the mood to cook." He wiggled his brows at her. "Pasta?"

She bit her lips, nodding. In the last four months of living with him, she had never seen him make anything more complex than a sandwich or a cup of coffee, but as he took out the box of pasta from the cabinet and propped open the jars of condiments on the counter, she couldn't help herself but feel more discomfited with the knowledge that she was not as good a wife to him as she should've been. However, her mood lightened when she watched him gather all the ingredients, chop the required veggies and meat, toss them with the butter in the pan with utmost concentration. Smiling, she said, "You cook?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes."

She took her time to admire him as he worked his way around the kitchen like an adept professional. The messy hair, the light stubble on his cheeks, the dimple she oh so loved to watch, the adorable way in which the corners of his eyes crinkled each time he laughed. Her cheeks burned when she recollected how he had a mole on his chest, which had fascinated her both the times they had been intimate. But then words tumbled out of her mouth. "You are so cute."

He halted his actions midway, placing the spatula aside, and taking his time to turn towards her. A smirk appeared on his lips. "Wifey is on fire today. She is getting insecure and jealous. She is missing me, and she finds me cute. Is it just the hormones or something else is going on in that pretty brain of yours?"

Chortling, shaking her head, she sat at the dining table. "I am your wife. I am entitled to every such emotion, ain't I?"

He took his sweet time to respond, sprinkling oregano in the white sauce he had prepped from scratch. "Being my wife, you are entitled to everything in the world." He glimpsed at her. "Everything good in the world."

***

The dinner was ready, and the table was set. He lit a candle and placed it on the table after turning off all the artificial lights. He had also played the softest tunes on his phone that wafted around the house along with the sweet fragrance of roses from the burning taper. He had even taken the liberty to pour two glasses of non-alcoholic wine, placing them next to the two plats of risotto he made with a lot of care and love.

She grinned ear to ear when she discerned the setting after hanging up the call with her mother—the mellow illumination, the gentle melody, the lovely aroma. Sitting on the chair he had drawn for her like a gentleman, she murmured, "This is so lovely, Shubham."

He plopped across her. "Liked it, wife?"

"Loved it!" She clapped her hands in ebullience. "Did you realize something? This is our first date."

He grinned. "I hope you would like to go out with me on a real date sometime. I can assure you I can be quite the charmer."

A bright blush crept on her cheeks, and she quickly picked up the fork, stabbing it into a piece of chicken. Stuffing it into her mouth, she shut her eyes as the rich, creamy taste of the sauce played with her tongue. "This pasta is so delicious."

He grinned again. "I am glad you liked it."

"It's so weird that Adi never planned such sweet dates for me or even thought of cooking for me." She clicked her tongue. "Such a weirdo he is."

His smile faltered, and he stared at her in disbelief, hurt flitting across his features since she had compared him with her cheating ex when there was so much bad blood between them. And the worst part was she nonchalantly kept stuffing food in her mouth, not even comprehending the gravity of her words. Taking a deep breath, he let the resentment drown with the excuse that she was not only hormonal and pregnant, but she was also moving on from a terrible breakup.

As the rest of the evening was spent sharing food and wine, the conversation once again flew freely between them, and the mellifluous sounds of their stress-free laughter resounded in the house. Once the dishes were stowed in the dishwasher and she blew the candle and let the home be immersed in partial darkness, a strange silence settled between them. Deafening silence. 

Both of them dawdled in the corridor to their rooms, standing across from one another, exchanging nervous glances. Both didn't wish for the night to end, for so much needed to be shared. So many secrets needed to be communicated. He was contemplating whether to ask her to move into his room since they had been married for a long time now. She was considering the option of asking if he would be alright with sharing a room since she had wholeheartedly accepted the marriage. But they didn't let their innermost thoughts grace their lips.

He bade her goodnight and went inside the room.

She wished him night and slid inside hers.

He rued not speaking up, for it was going to be another long night of being attracted to his wife and not acting on his impulses.

She regretted not telling him how much she enjoyed his company irrespective of the time of the day or the lateness of the evening.

He continued twisting and turning on his bed, sleep eluding him throughout.

She remained sitting on the edge of the mattress, listlessly staring out the windows.

The night darkened outside.

***

Shubham had an important meeting the following morning, and much to his chagrin, none of the ties he owned were knotted for him to use. He had never been able to learn how to make a knot of a tie since the process was too complicated, and he didn't wish to spend time on such a pointless activity. When in India, his mother helped him out, and then Nandini did throughout the time they dated each other. Of late, it was the maid doing the laundry, pressing his clothes, and tying the knots of every tie in his closet. But it seemed like Joanna had forgotten to prepare his office wear.

He glimpsed at the watch. It was still 6:30 am, and Joanna usually entered after 7. He was any way in a rush due to an early meeting with Korean delegates, and he was left with no option other than grabbing the blue tie matching his suit and attempting to make the knot.

With his face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes fixed on the YouTube tutorial, muttering incoherently under his breath, he twisted the fabric this way and that, bringing the narrower end towards the wider one and entangling the two to form a ball instead of how a standard knot would be. But he didn't give up. He couldn't, given the meeting required attendance in professional attire. Hence, he continued trying, albeit unsuccessfully. Huffing and puffing, rolling his eyes, grumbling about the pain in his arms due to the incessant attempts he had made, he didn't notice Piyali pass by his room, double back in amusement, and watch him from the corridor with a fond smile playing on her lips.

When he scowled, censuring the tie for being so insolent, she couldn't suppress her snickers anymore and nearly doubled up, laughing at him.

His attention snapped towards her, and he pouted. "You find my miseries amusing, wife?"

She tittered one last time before falling silent, reveling in the pleasure that shot through her heart each time he used a term of endearment for her. Shaking her head, she cautiously trod inside, and he held out his arm for her to take. She slipped her palm in hers, allowing him to draw her closer to himself. "You don't know how to knot a tie, and it's hilarious."

His arms went around her waist while he ensured not to smother her tummy with his weight. "You mean to say you know a lot about ties."

She unfastened the complex knot that was his creation. "Let me show you how it's done."

As she took to draping it around his neck, correctly fastening the knot, looping it around the right spots, he took his sweet time to observe her. He had always known her to be a ridiculously gorgeous woman. High cheekbones, smooth skin, a cute buttoned nose, plump lips, well-shaped brows, and extremely well-defined features. However, up close, inhaling the fragrance of peaches that she boasted of, he was intoxicated. As her fingers brushed against his throat and neck, he could swear he grew more and more attracted to the woman in his arms. Until actions spoke louder, and he gently caressed her cheeks.

She looked up at him, batting her long lashes, sliding the knot towards the collar. "All done, husband."

"Do you know something?" he murmured, his gaze darting all over her face. "You are beyond beautiful."

He had never complimented her upfront before. At least not in a sober state. She could recall him praising her beauty the one time they had been inebriated at the bar after which a night of drunken haze and crazy, hot sex had followed. But other than that, she was certain he had never said any such thing ever before. Oh, and that one time he had called her Gorgeous-As-Hell Mom! Blushing, she peered at the protruding belly in front of her. "I am not. I look fat, Shubham."

His lips curved into a smile. "You are glowing, Piyali. Exactly how a pregnant woman should do, and that's making you divine, ethereal."

She fisted the fabric of his shirt, contemplating where to take this conversation. Half her mind wanted to kiss that sinful mouth of his—the same one that had done wonders to her body once upon a time while the other half of her mind told her to be wary since she was already developing a soft corner for him. The only words coming out of her mouth in a squeak were unexpected. "Aren't you getting late for the meeting? You should go."

He let his rough cheeks brush against her soft ones, earning a gasp from her. "Do you really want me to go?"

"You said this is important." She squirmed when his lips trailed against her earlobes, and her arms automatically locked behind his neck. "I am just reminding you."

He inhaled her fragrance, letting her showered tresses skim against his nose. "Nothing is more important than you. If you want me to stay, I will gladly."

Something clicked in her mind, and she pushed him away. "Am I the most important to you?"

He held onto her waist, nodding, his gaze going to those delicious and plump lips of hers. It had been eons since he relished those last, but the sweet aftertaste was still fresh in his mind, lingering in that impenetrable corner of his heart he rarely let himself venture. If only she would not remain so distant all the time, he could cross the invisible barrier and take her mouth in his, caress the curves of her breasts, kiss the insides of her thighs, and—

"More than Nandini?" There was a sad smile on her lips. "I don't think."

It took him a second more than necessary to snap out of his thoughts and make sense of her words. But when he did, he was prompted to peer into her glossy eyes and a frown came upon his face. He recanted his arms from around her. "What do you mean?"

She heaved a sigh. "You were in love with her, Shubham. My baby and I were just a mistake. A drunken mistake first and a lascivious mistake the next time." Her orbs dampened. "Just a mistake," she whispered.

Fury arose in his heart as he loosened the tie from around his neck, flinging it across the floor. Glaring at her, he yelled, "Did I complain when you brought up Aditya at dinner? Did I grumble about him being more important to you? Then why the fuck would you spout this nonsense when I have done nothing but made you feel secure in this relationship?" He took a step forward, and the woman was forced to retreat because of the way he intimidated her. "I was not the one willing to take a different room after getting married. I was not the one maintaining my distance from you. It was all you, Piyali Mehra. I had been hoping to make this relationship work since the day I found out you are carrying my child."

Her spine hit the wall behind her, and she clutched her dress, worry ruling her senses as he towered over her. More tears brimmed in her eyes while she heard him vent his anger.

"Yes, we erred when we slept with each other, but I never considered this a mistake. Not the first time. Not the second time. Because you are giving me the best gift of life. It's your fucking insecurity that you can't get over. Remember one thing, Piyali." His nose was only an inch from hers as he stared at her, wrath rippling through his body and igniting her skin. "I am not Aditya Roy who would tolerate your shit and still continue in the relationship. And I am not Aditya Roy who would fuck you over later just to spite you. I am Shubham Agarwal, and I am fiercely loyal to my wife because even though I have lost faith in love, I have a strong belief in the institution of marriage. When I say you are the most important, I fucking mean it, and if you don't see any value in my words, pack your bags and go back to where you think you are important."

And in a flash, he was out of the house, the tie lying on the wooden floor as her cries echoed in the empty room.