His hand cupping her jaw, his thumb stroking over her lips. “You’ll be okay driving home?” he asked, searching her face. “Not feeling sleepy?”
“I have so much caffeine in my blood that tired is the last thing I feel.” Turning her head, she kissed his palm. “I’ll be fine. And if your mother and Aditi want me to come over tomorrow, just let me know.” She’d work it out with her bosses.
Raj kissed her, the pain in him making her want to give and give—but Raj’s family needed him right now. “When you have time,” she said against his lips, “I’ll be here. Anything you need, Raj.”
Another primal kiss before he released her. “Message me when you arrive home.”
Well aware of how shaken his heart was right then, Nayna said, “As soon as I’m inside.”
Her headlights flashed off Raj’s body as he stood watching her leave, and she felt a wild desperation to go back and get in his car, go home with him, hold him. He might never be a big talker when it came to his emotions, but he spoke to her with his body, allowed his shields to fall when he was in her arms.
But going home with him was simply not an option.
Her parents and his parents might be willing to overlook the fact they were spending considerable time together, but neither party would overlook it if she ended up in Raj’s bed so close to where his family lived. Not even if she just wanted to put her arms around him while he slept.
It’d be considered disrespectful in the extreme, especially in the current circumstances.
Nayna banged her fisted hand on the steering wheel, frustrated with herself. Because the thing was, she would never do that to her parents or his. The freedom to make her own choices didn’t mean spitting in the faces of those she loved and respected.
It didn’t mean throwing dirt on the tradition that was such a core part of Raj.
The color and the joy of their culture, the huge families and the extended relationships, it all mattered to Nayna and always would. She had a hundred aunties if not more, barely one percent of them related to her by any kind of blood. All those women—Batty Auntie included—would drop whatever they were doing if she ever needed serious help.
Despite all that, today she wished that it didn’t matter that she wasn’t married to Raj. She wanted the right to be by his side, to curl up around her rock of a man and hold him through the coldest hours of the night.
* * *
It wasn’t until two more nights had passed that Nayna saw Raj’s father at last. Knowing the doctors wanted to keep Jitesh Sen in as restful a state as possible, she hadn’t asked for an earlier visitation. Honestly, his immediate family were likely the only ones he wanted to see anyway.
However, when she dropped by the hospital that evening with some requested takeout for the younger members of the family, Raj—still in his work gear—said, “My dad was asking about you.”
“Oh.” Nayna put the takeout on a table inside the whnau room—a space designed for families of patients—then went to stand in front of where he sat in a visitor chair.
She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening the wind-tumbled strands. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Raj had told her that his father had been sluggish and slow for the past couple of days, but that the physicians were telling them it was to be expected after the major surgery.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Raj laid his head against her navel and let her play with his hair as he exhaled, and her heart, it broke into a million fragments. When it put itself back together, Raj was in every nook and every cranny, the cracks woven back together with his name as the glue.
She loved him. More than she’d ever loved anyone her entire life.
The hole that love put in her defenses, the sacrifices she was ready to make to ensure his happiness, it scared her… but she didn’t stop petting his hair.
“Yes,” Raj said. “He called you my ‘pretty Nayna.’ ‘Where’s your pretty Nayna, Raj? Doesn’t she want to visit a sick old man?’”
“I hope you told him it was on doctor’s orders.”
“I think he’s decided he likes being a cranky patient.” A tightening of his arms around her before he drew back.
Nayna wondered if he could see her heart, exposed and without barriers. “Where are your mum and sister?”
“They’re with him. I was just waiting for you.”
“Are Navin and Komal here too?”
“They spent the afternoon with him while I gave Aditi the task of getting our mother to nap—she’s barely been sleeping.” Raj stood and put his hand on the lower part of her back. “Aditi gained victory by crawling into bed, and, according to her, ‘acting like a needy baby’ so our mother would cuddle her.”
Nayna laughed. “And napdom was achieved?”
“For three hours—for both of them.”
Leaving the food on the table, the whnau room otherwise empty, Raj led her into the room where his father lay recovering. The older man had been given a single room to himself, which would’ve told Nayna the severity of the surgery even if she hadn’t known the details. All the wires and tubes hooked up to him further underlined the seriousness of the heart attack and the emergency surgery that had followed.
Jitesh Sen’s previously healthy brown skin was pallid, his breath shallow and ragged at times. But he smiled when he saw Nayna and patted at his bed. She went around to that side and put her hand in his.
He curled his fingers weakly around hers. “Beta, I’ve been waiting to see you.”
“I didn’t want to intrude,” Nayna began.
“Intrude, schrimtrude,” the older man said. “You’re family. Isn’t she, Sangeeta?”
Raj’s mother smiled and nodded while Aditi said a cheerful “Yep.” Both mother and daughter were seated in visitor chairs by the bed, though Aditi had somehow managed to create the full teenage-sprawl in hers.
“I have something to say.” Raj’s father looked at Nayna, then Raj. “I know you young people have your modern ways, but I’m an old man and I might not have a lot of time left.”
“Don’t say it, Papa,” Aditi cried out, straightening in an alarm of arms and legs.
“The doctors are confident you’ll make a full recovery,” Raj added, touching a hand to his father’s shoulder. “There’s no need to worry.”
The older man nodded but said, “Maybe, maybe. Or maybe I have only five years. Or maybe I have only one year. We don’t know—I could get hit by a car tomorrow.”
Raj’s mother was nodding, clearly knowing where this was going. Aditi had her head in her hands, her curls bouncing every which way as she shook her head in slow motion. Nayna meanwhile was starting to have a strange prickling on the back of her neck. Because she’d seen this scene before—in a hundred Bollywood movies. She just couldn’t believe it was happening to her.
She glanced up at Raj and saw that he was frowning. Her lover needed to watch more Bollywood movies. She’d make that a part of his education stat. But right now she could do nothing but listen as destiny careened toward her at the speed of light.
“What I’m saying,” Raj’s father continued after taking a sip of juice, “is that I know you two want to take your time before marriage, but I’d like to see my eldest son married and settled… Just in case.” He pressed his free hand to his heart, his fingers trembling. “We don’t know what the future will hold. Son, I want this happiness for you. And maybe, if we are very lucky, I’ll get to see my grandchild before…”
“I have so much caffeine in my blood that tired is the last thing I feel.” Turning her head, she kissed his palm. “I’ll be fine. And if your mother and Aditi want me to come over tomorrow, just let me know.” She’d work it out with her bosses.
Raj kissed her, the pain in him making her want to give and give—but Raj’s family needed him right now. “When you have time,” she said against his lips, “I’ll be here. Anything you need, Raj.”
Another primal kiss before he released her. “Message me when you arrive home.”
Well aware of how shaken his heart was right then, Nayna said, “As soon as I’m inside.”
Her headlights flashed off Raj’s body as he stood watching her leave, and she felt a wild desperation to go back and get in his car, go home with him, hold him. He might never be a big talker when it came to his emotions, but he spoke to her with his body, allowed his shields to fall when he was in her arms.
But going home with him was simply not an option.
Her parents and his parents might be willing to overlook the fact they were spending considerable time together, but neither party would overlook it if she ended up in Raj’s bed so close to where his family lived. Not even if she just wanted to put her arms around him while he slept.
It’d be considered disrespectful in the extreme, especially in the current circumstances.
Nayna banged her fisted hand on the steering wheel, frustrated with herself. Because the thing was, she would never do that to her parents or his. The freedom to make her own choices didn’t mean spitting in the faces of those she loved and respected.
It didn’t mean throwing dirt on the tradition that was such a core part of Raj.
The color and the joy of their culture, the huge families and the extended relationships, it all mattered to Nayna and always would. She had a hundred aunties if not more, barely one percent of them related to her by any kind of blood. All those women—Batty Auntie included—would drop whatever they were doing if she ever needed serious help.
Despite all that, today she wished that it didn’t matter that she wasn’t married to Raj. She wanted the right to be by his side, to curl up around her rock of a man and hold him through the coldest hours of the night.
* * *
It wasn’t until two more nights had passed that Nayna saw Raj’s father at last. Knowing the doctors wanted to keep Jitesh Sen in as restful a state as possible, she hadn’t asked for an earlier visitation. Honestly, his immediate family were likely the only ones he wanted to see anyway.
However, when she dropped by the hospital that evening with some requested takeout for the younger members of the family, Raj—still in his work gear—said, “My dad was asking about you.”
“Oh.” Nayna put the takeout on a table inside the whnau room—a space designed for families of patients—then went to stand in front of where he sat in a visitor chair.
She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening the wind-tumbled strands. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Raj had told her that his father had been sluggish and slow for the past couple of days, but that the physicians were telling them it was to be expected after the major surgery.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Raj laid his head against her navel and let her play with his hair as he exhaled, and her heart, it broke into a million fragments. When it put itself back together, Raj was in every nook and every cranny, the cracks woven back together with his name as the glue.
She loved him. More than she’d ever loved anyone her entire life.
The hole that love put in her defenses, the sacrifices she was ready to make to ensure his happiness, it scared her… but she didn’t stop petting his hair.
“Yes,” Raj said. “He called you my ‘pretty Nayna.’ ‘Where’s your pretty Nayna, Raj? Doesn’t she want to visit a sick old man?’”
“I hope you told him it was on doctor’s orders.”
“I think he’s decided he likes being a cranky patient.” A tightening of his arms around her before he drew back.
Nayna wondered if he could see her heart, exposed and without barriers. “Where are your mum and sister?”
“They’re with him. I was just waiting for you.”
“Are Navin and Komal here too?”
“They spent the afternoon with him while I gave Aditi the task of getting our mother to nap—she’s barely been sleeping.” Raj stood and put his hand on the lower part of her back. “Aditi gained victory by crawling into bed, and, according to her, ‘acting like a needy baby’ so our mother would cuddle her.”
Nayna laughed. “And napdom was achieved?”
“For three hours—for both of them.”
Leaving the food on the table, the whnau room otherwise empty, Raj led her into the room where his father lay recovering. The older man had been given a single room to himself, which would’ve told Nayna the severity of the surgery even if she hadn’t known the details. All the wires and tubes hooked up to him further underlined the seriousness of the heart attack and the emergency surgery that had followed.
Jitesh Sen’s previously healthy brown skin was pallid, his breath shallow and ragged at times. But he smiled when he saw Nayna and patted at his bed. She went around to that side and put her hand in his.
He curled his fingers weakly around hers. “Beta, I’ve been waiting to see you.”
“I didn’t want to intrude,” Nayna began.
“Intrude, schrimtrude,” the older man said. “You’re family. Isn’t she, Sangeeta?”
Raj’s mother smiled and nodded while Aditi said a cheerful “Yep.” Both mother and daughter were seated in visitor chairs by the bed, though Aditi had somehow managed to create the full teenage-sprawl in hers.
“I have something to say.” Raj’s father looked at Nayna, then Raj. “I know you young people have your modern ways, but I’m an old man and I might not have a lot of time left.”
“Don’t say it, Papa,” Aditi cried out, straightening in an alarm of arms and legs.
“The doctors are confident you’ll make a full recovery,” Raj added, touching a hand to his father’s shoulder. “There’s no need to worry.”
The older man nodded but said, “Maybe, maybe. Or maybe I have only five years. Or maybe I have only one year. We don’t know—I could get hit by a car tomorrow.”
Raj’s mother was nodding, clearly knowing where this was going. Aditi had her head in her hands, her curls bouncing every which way as she shook her head in slow motion. Nayna meanwhile was starting to have a strange prickling on the back of her neck. Because she’d seen this scene before—in a hundred Bollywood movies. She just couldn’t believe it was happening to her.
She glanced up at Raj and saw that he was frowning. Her lover needed to watch more Bollywood movies. She’d make that a part of his education stat. But right now she could do nothing but listen as destiny careened toward her at the speed of light.
“What I’m saying,” Raj’s father continued after taking a sip of juice, “is that I know you two want to take your time before marriage, but I’d like to see my eldest son married and settled… Just in case.” He pressed his free hand to his heart, his fingers trembling. “We don’t know what the future will hold. Son, I want this happiness for you. And maybe, if we are very lucky, I’ll get to see my grandchild before…”
