Chapter XXXIV
Where Grief and Love Walk Hand in Hand
We had to purchase a few essentials for my grandfather's funeral. According to Hindu rituals, many people attend the ceremony, and arrangements for food and hospitality must be made for all. Offerings are given to the priest, and food is placed out for the crows — a sacred gesture believed to be a message to the departed soul. There are countless things to prepare, and everything moves in a blur of tradition, grief, and duty.
My mother… she hadn't been speaking to me directly for quite some time. Maybe it was resentment, disappointment, or something even deeper I had yet to understand. So instead of asking me, she turned to Sita.
With a voice that tried to sound gentle, though her gaze never softened, she said,
"Sita, why don't you go to the village with Vedehi? There's still a few things that need to be bought for the funeral rituals, and she knows what's needed. We have a lot to handle here at home, and I don't want you getting tangled up in all the hustle. You're newly married — this should be a time for you to rest, not to be burdened with work."
There was a quiet pause before she added, "If we need anything urgent, we'll let you know."
Sita, always so respectful, nodded without hesitation.
"Okay, Mom. As you say."
I stood there quietly, watching this exchange unfold. I knew my mother's words were meant for Sita, but in some quiet, roundabout way, they became a rare gift for me too.
Because in that moment, all I could think was — Finally. Some time. Just her and me.
A soft joy began blooming inside my chest, despite the heavy air of mourning that still lingered over the house. Maybe it was selfish of me to feel it — amidst funeral preparations and unsaid tensions — but the idea of spending time alone with Sita felt like a fragile pocket of peace carved out from the chaos.
Sita turned and walked toward our room, the soft rustle of her sari brushing gently with each step. Without a word, I followed her.
And as the door quietly closed behind us, I realized…
Even in the shadows of grief, love finds a way to slip through the cracks.
Inside the Room — A Glimpse of Playful Intimacy
As soon as I stepped into the room behind her, I couldn't help but pause for a second — completely taken aback by the sight before me.
Sita stood near the window, bathed in golden light, wrapped in a soft pink saree that seemed almost made for her. The fabric kissed her skin like it had known her forever. She looked like a dream — fragile, yet fierce. Divine, yet disarmingly real. My heart, without warning, skipped a beat.
"I have to say this," I finally whispered, almost in awe, "You look... stunning."
She turned toward me slowly, mischief playing in her eyes. "Compliments? Now? That too so late?" she teased, a playful pout on her lips.
I grinned. "Well, it took me a while to see you... not just with my eyes, but with my heart."
A small blush crept onto her cheeks, but she tried to hide it behind her sarcasm.
"Oh really? How poetic."
Then, narrowing her eyes curiously, she added, "By the way, what was Jasmine talking to you about earlier? She seemed... amused. After chatting with you, she ran straight to Saumya and began whispering and laughing."
I rolled my eyes, chuckling. "It was nothing. She just had a funny misunderstanding — she thought you were my sister!"
Sita blinked. And then burst out laughing. Her laugh — loud, pure, unapologetic — filled every corner of the room like music.
"Wait… what? She thought we were sisters?!" she exclaimed, still laughing. "Was she blind? Couldn't she see that I'm clearly more graceful, more radiant, and obviously—prettier?"
She gave me a smug smile. "And unlike you, my face doesn't resemble a pig's."
I gasped dramatically, eyes wide. "Excuse me?! Did you just compare me to a pig?"
She tilted her head, lips twitching with amusement. "You said it. I'm just agreeing. After all, I married a cute little pink pig, didn't I?"
I put a hand to my chest, pretending to be deeply hurt. "Wow. You really know how to wound a woman's pride."
Sita sauntered over, her expression dripping with playfulness. "Aww… is my baby piggy upset?"
I turned away with mock annoyance. "That's it. I'm leaving. This room can't contain your cruelty."
Before I could reach the door, she swiftly caught my wrist, her grip firm yet gentle — like an anchor pulling me back from drifting too far.
"Where are you going, hmm?" she whispered, stepping closer, eyes suddenly softer. "You think you can escape me that easily?"
Her proximity made the air thicker. My anger melted. My lips curved into a smirk.
I placed my hands on her waist and pulled her flush against me. "Okay, fair point," I murmured. "But don't think I've forgotten… You still owe me something."
She blinked, feigning innocence. "What?"
I leaned in, lowering my voice to a breath. "A kiss."
Her gaze dropped to my lips and back to my eyes, a faint smile tugging at hers. "Oh... that," she said, voice silky. "Well, that kiss… is reserved for someone very special."
I tilted my head, teasingly hurt. "And I'm not that someone?"
She smiled sweetly. "I just don't feel like kissing you."
I gave her an over-the-top pout. "Fine. Then I'll go back to the pond. Jasmine will kiss me. She knows how to appreciate a pig when she sees one."
Sita raised a brow, crossing her arms. "This time, go lie in the drain. Maybe you'll attract some actual pigs. They might give you the attention you're desperate for."
I let out a loud, exaggerated sigh and crossed my arms. "You're mean, Sita. Just plain mean."
Laughing, she stepped closer again. Her fingers reached up and gently cradled my cheek, eyes now shining with fondness — a soft contrast to the teasing from earlier.
"Oh, my poor Ved," she whispered. "Did I go too far?"
She leaned in, lips brushing my skin with the gentleness of a falling petal as she kissed me on the cheek. The contact was brief, but it set every nerve in my body alight. I barely managed to breathe.
Pulling back just slightly, she looked into my eyes and said softly, "This… this is all you get for now. That should be enough."
And in that moment — standing in the quiet warmth of the room, her kiss still lingering on my skin — I knew it was. Because sometimes, it's not the kiss on your lips, but the tenderness in someone's eyes that truly steals your breath.
To be continue....