Please take note that this update onwards the story will have extremely mature elements. And will also differ a bit from my story on India Forums. 

Sameer and Munna stood perplexed at the door as their respective women ran around with what seemed to be heaps of ribbons, shirts, and dupattas.

"Munna yaar tu thik kehta tha. Lagta hai Naina mein Nainadevi aa gayi hai." Sameer spoke softly when Naina looked at him with a frustrated look as if she was screaming and calling him useless names inside her head. Which she probably was.

"Bhai tera toh samajh aa raha hai kyonki ladai hui hai tumhari lekin meri wali mein yeh mata ka bhoot kabse aa gaya?" Munna spoke as he looked at Swati glaring at him.

"yaar woh meriwali ke saath rehkar aadat padgayi hai bhabhi ko." Sameer whispered, careful only they could hear. "humari aise daal nahi galne wali. Humme alag karna hoga inhe warna ek doosre ke saath rehkar inka gussa bas badhna hai." Also I just want Naina alone and all to myself. She needs to be taught a lesson that she couldn't just kiss the living daylights out of him and walk away like that.

"Naina! Sailiji kahan hai?" He asked, going towards her and automatically adjusting the weight of her heap into his arms. She handed it to him and went off to the kitchen without uttering a word; giving Sameer the chance to be alone with her. The gears of his brain went into an overdrive as he made a plan to send Swati and Munna away. 

"Dekh FWP maan ja na yaar sorry. Promise kal se roz sone se pehle phone karunga." Munna spoke as he sat down to help Swati fold clothes. 

"Munnaji.." she spoke looking at him with love making him melt. "Aaye haye kahiye ji." Munna spoke as a slight blush embraced his cheeks. 

"Kapde toh theek se teh nahi kar sakte bade aaye promise nibhane wale!" Swati yelled at him, pulling out a folded silk shirt from his hands which now was covered in wrinkles. 

"Aaye Pandit tu kahe tu mai woh bhi seekh jaunga. Chal na date par chal toh mere saath. Aisa gussa na kar." Munna spoke grabbing a hold of her hand which Swati immediately smacked. 

"Date par chalun? Shakal dekhi hai apni? Bandar kahin ke." She said in an admonishing but the blush of her cheeks gave her away. Munna knew he had almost won the batter because Swati had used her 'gharwali' tone. Any minute and he would take her out. 

"Munna!" Sameer called him making Swati puff up her mouth and Munna scowl at the interruption. 

"Kya hai bhai? Dekh ab tu ponga mat ban na. Tu meri bhabhi ke saath romance kar aur mujhe teri bhabhi ke saat romane karne de. Bahut gussa hai yaar woh. Pata nahi kyun magar ekdum fuljhadi bani baithi hai." Munna whispered to Sameer as he took him to the side. 

The two men shivered as they felt the glares of their respective women bore into their backs. 

"Dekh munna usika upaye hai. Tu yeh le meri bike ki chaabi. Bhabhi ko bike ride par leja aur propose karde. Aur sun chaabi na kal lauta diyo. Aaj wapis mat aaiyo tu samajh raha hai na?" Sameer spoke with a mischievous smirk as he handed the keys to Munna. 

"Samajh gaya bhai. Tu darwaza band karna mat bhulna. Isse mera kaam bui hojayega aur tera bhi." Munna's statement made them both blush as their eyes glittered with desires for their woman. 

"Oh Meri Fuljhadi." He said lovingly as he sat next to Swati. 

"Kya hai, bandar kahin ka?" She spoke back, her tones angrier.

"Chal na bike par ghumte hai, mai tujhe Paresh ki pista kulfi bhi khilaunga. Chal toh sahi." He spoke, his fingers casually coming to rest on her shoulder. Swati blushed at the contact and nodded to leave with him. 

Sameer smiled triumphantly as a blushing Swati left with an excited Munna dancing behind her. He turned at the door and winked at Sameer who gave him a thumbs up. 

Unknown to all this, Naina stood in the kitchen watching as the descending sun set a warm glow to the streets of Ahemdabad. She had missed these narrow streets with their ever vibrant shades of populace. The bangle maker who packed up the last mound of clay to run home, the fruit seller who reluctantly gave away the last of his stock at bargained prices, the record store salesman who tried to push out the misguided youth troubling him for cassettes they probably wouldn't rent.  She had forgotten the things she had learned from people watching through the kitchen window. The kitchen in her new home, Krishna Kaustubhi was different. It faced the classier, more snobbish elite of Ahemdabad who would rather spend their time inside then walk around and entangle with their neighbourhood streets. But the kitchen there had set a sanctimonious contrast to the one here. 

She was seldom alone in it. Mornings were busy with the rush to get things going for the day because her childish husband refused to let her leave the bed and insisted on cuddling with her. So she would be pressed for time to get the breakfast ready before he goes to office. Afternoons were usually spent with papers and quill to ink down her thoughts for publishing. And Sameer would usually come home early to help her with lunch which mostly ended up with him absentmindedly doing culinary tasks while he stole kisses from her or stroked at her bare waist or back. Another reason apart from her torn blouse why she had tried to stop wearing sarees but then he had gotten grumpy and she had had to pay the price by having a very desperately hungry Sameer rip up one of her several satin nighties. Evenings were spent with him sitting on the shelf constantly pampering her with attention and talks while she cooked. 

This open space she now stood in felt  leagues away from that kitchen of a married woman. Despite being smaller in size, it felt larger; too big. An emptiness prevailed in it as her heartbeat sounded clearly to her ears, his loud laughter or purring moans were missing. The kitchen of her girlhood felt like a nostalgic weaving of memories and musings of a 16 year old girl who spent every moment here thinking  about the man she had gotten married to. And yet, 6 months after the big dream had been achieved she stood in that very kitchen too angry to look at the prince from her dreams.  

"Naina, maine woh caterer se baat karli. Chachaji ka phone aaya tha ki unko Preeti ke saath sari select karne mein time lag jayega aur woh shayad wahin par dinner karle. Toh bas hum dono aur Swati Munna hai yahan." Sameer spoke as he walked into the kitchen, she could feel his steps progressing towards her every second. 

"Toh tum Munna aur Swati se puchkar aao ki woh" "Woh Swati usse gussa hai toh Munna use date par lekar jaa rahe hai. Aaj sirf hum dono hai yahan." Sameer interjected her question. Of course, the man had planned this. He had been waiting for this moment since he had arrived. He knew in the dark shadows of a silent lonely night, she would be drawn to him like metal to magnet. And she had to admit, it was already working, butterflies raked at her stomach with anticipation. 

"Ab Munna ne aisa kya kiya ki Swati usse gussa hai?" Naina asked to break the flow of sparks emitting from their bodies into the heavily spiced scented air of the kitchen. 

"Tumhe aisa kyon lagta hai ki Munna ne kuch.."  "Kyonki ladkon ka kaam hota hai ladkiyon ko satana, unhe tang karna, aur agar woh ladka Sameer Maheshwari hai toh apni eklauti biwi par bharosa na karna." She roughly cut him off; her manner dry, voice firm, and words at once hitting at target. If her devars had been here then they would have instantly told Sameer to run for his life because 'sakshat Nainadevi ke darshan hone wale hai'.

"Pehli baat, Swati gussa nahi hai bas Munna ko tang karne ke liye bhao kha rahi hai. Aur doosri baat Naina aisa nahi hai ki mai tumpar bharosa nahi karta hoon lekin bas tumhe khone se darta hoon mai." Sameer said, softly. The line a whisper so silent it almost escaped her but then she was someone who could clearly distinguish the smallest breaths of her husband from the clamorous crowd at Sundarkund mela. 

"Bharosa karte toh mujhe khone se nahi darte, Sameer Maheshwari." She said as she carefully rounded up her hair in a bun. They had become long and almost ravine like thick because Sameer was obsessed with her hair and after what had happened during their marriage, he was too traumatised to let he go to a hair salon. Like a 5 year old kid, he would whine and cling to her and persuade her to not get her hair cut. And despite all this, he didn't trust her a dime, which is why he had punched Kartik into the library wall when he had seen them studying together. 

"Naina tum samajh nahi rahi ho, woh Kartik tumhe pasand.." "Samajh tum nahi rahe ho Sameer, Kartik agar mujhe pasand bhi karta hai toh kya? Mere dil mein na toh uske liye izzat hai aur na hi dosti. " She spoke up, rather loudly causing Sameer to flinch back as she turned around to face him. 

"Kuch nahi hai toh kyon padhati ho tum use?" Sameer asked, his voice a tremor of deep hidden away emotions. She could see it in his eyes; the insecurities, the trauma that had been incited, the memories of an empty childhood which refused to leave him alone. Her heart softened a bit and she sighed. 

"Maine tumse kuch nahi chupaya tha Sameer. Tumhe pehle hi kehdiya tha ki Kartik ne mere admission mein madat ki iss liye mai use padhati hoon." She spoke, her voice once again soft with a cajoling tone. 

"Aur tumne eik baar bhi nahi socha ki usne kyon karaya tumhara admission?" He spat the words out at her, she could sense fury gripping at him once again. That was his ultimate flaw- his anger. It was a separate villian of its own; strong enough to make him lose sense of his actions, his words, and his own jaan Naina. 

"Kyonki Sunaina se dhoka khaane ke baad woh badal gaya hai Sameer, usse pachtawa tha jo usne kiya uske liye. Jo bhi usne kiya tha mera saath, humare saath woh sirf Sunaina ke pyar ke karan tha. Apne aap ko mera aashiq kehte ho na toh uske dil ko samjho tum." She explained to him, hurt that he was still questioning her. She had given everything to this man in the past 6 months: her heart, her soul, her brain, and her body. But it would never be enough to assure him that she was the one person in the world who would never abandon him . 

In a second his gaze turned a shade darker and she could sense a sudden fear in him; like his heart had just dropped. Closing the gap between them, he lunged at her, his hands grasping at her waist tightly. Tight enough to pin her yet his hold still gentle, his fingertips treating her skin like feather. Her heartbeat heightened at his slightest touch, already anticipating the pleasurable routine they had become attuned to. 

"Naina paanch saal pehle tumne mujhe bhi yahi kaha tha ki mai badal raha hun. Aur tum jaanti ho mere nanaji ke baad tum woh pehli insaan thi jise bharosa tha ki mai badal sakta hoon. Tumhari issi baat se mera pyar gehra hogaya tha tumhare liye. Mai tumhara aashiq hoon aur humesha rahunga kyonki tumhara dil samundar jitna bada hai. Lekin khabardar agar tumne Kartik ke liye thodi si bhi humdardi dikhai toh. tum uss lafange Kartik ke baare mein yeh sab kaise soch sakti ho? Kyon parwah hai tumhe ki woh badal raha hai? Dost hai kya woh tumhara? Kyon hai bharosa tumhe uss par? Kyon karti ho tum aisi baatein jisse kisi ko bhi pyar hosakta hai? Kyon tum aisi cheezein kehti ho jise mera dil chubhta hai Naina?!" He questioned her and seeing the agony of perilous fires in his eyes, her own heart stopped beating. Slight tears burned at the edges of her vision as she saw the unshed ones in his eyes. 

"Sameer.." she never got to finish the sentence as his dominating mouth came to settle on hers; his tongue roughly entering her mouth, claiming her with such possession that it made her whimper deep in her core. His tongue lusciously melded with hers, teasingly pulling back at the last minute,  delightfully playing with her's. Her every moan, every groan melted to a sigh on his lips. His teeth playing a game of checkers at her lips; nipping, biting, sucking. Making her ache with a profound heady mix of pleasure and pain. 

Something was different about this kiss: there was desire and love like their usual kisses but more than that there was a deeply ingrained fear. He kissed her like he was scared this would be the last time. His every motion from the way his hands tightly twisted at her skin to the way his mouth urgently consumed her saliva, it told her stories of a desperation to keep her stuck to him; like he needed her to reassure him that his breath would be there in his body the next minute. 

Closing her eyes, feeling the assault of his ravishing lips on hers, she decided to surrender herself to him. Not because she wasn't angry anymore. She was still hurt and enraged. But it was the thousand open wounds she could fill in that one kiss. Her hands undid the buttons of his shirt as she set about to caressing his wounds with her touch. Fill them with the sensation of her mouth against his flesh, with the sweat of their rhythms, with the touch of her skin, with his mouth marking her as his. 

In that moment, all she cared about was her broken aching beloved melting to a gushing feathered touch man as their bodies drew close; hoping that tangling limbs and mingling breaths would help him trust their 'forever'.