The Accidental Wife (18 page)

Surrender

A
fter pounding the pavement outside Naina’s apartment for nearly three quarters of an hour, Rihaan returned home. Imagining another man in his stead had knocked down his self-confidence, leaving him feeling broken and listless. He had wrestled with the idea of banging on her door and demanding an explanation, but then dropped it, not knowing what he’d do if the guy turned out to be who he feared. Rihaan was quite sure he’d react violently and then run the risk of being banished forever from Naina’s life—something he simply couldn’t imagine doing.

What right do I have to interfere,
he asked himself, staring down at the dark alley that ran alongside his apartment. When I’ve never really claimed any ownership on her, or on our relationship for that matter. I’ve never treated it beyond a mere contractual obligation, one that we’ve both mutually agreed upon—though it has grown to mean far more to me.
But has it for her?
There’ve been some indications, but she has declared nothing with clarity. To be fair, how can I expect any expression of commitment from her when I’ve never asserted myself?

Though I did mean to do so tonight if it weren’t for that…
that pretentious son-of-a-bitch!
He kicked blindly at the low patio table, then cursed aloud as a shock of pain shot down his shin.

Morning didn’t bring any solutions to his predicament as he’d hoped. Instead it made it even more warped and twisted. And though he tried really hard, Rihaan couldn’t bring himself to be charitable. It was just not within him. When he, as Naina’s lawful husband hadn’t been given a fighting chance, how could any other man?

Rihaan called the clinic and asked Anna to cancel all his appointments. There was no way he could bring himself to do any decent work that day, given his current state of mind. He was thankful he wasn’t scheduled in the OR, as the only thing he was in the mood for was hacking a certain man into tiny little pieces, not performing delicate surgery.

He examined his face in the bathroom mirror. It’d been a while since he’d paid anything beyond cursory attention to it. The striking, handsome features, the shock of thick wavy hair, his broad shoulders and lean yet well-muscled, athletic physique scored a pass. But his imaginary rival scored even less. With his ridiculous bow tie, goatee and beady eyes (even if it was purely imaginary) he looked like a sly fox and as slimy and repulsive as a pickled eel. If Naina would just open her eyes!

He grimaced. One never knew with women; they’d been known to romanticize toads and other miscellaneous creatures of questionable repute.

Could it be a platonic relationship? No, not with Naina. That notion was dismissed immediately. Naina’s beauty was such it would tempt even the most pious cleric to abandon his calling.

She was committing an error, a grave error.

***

Rihaan sat at the glittering caf
é
bar, nursed his dirty martini and wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing there. He’d been summoned here, to this swanky jazz club in the heart of midtown by Anna— “It is a matter of great urgency, Dr. Mehta,” at a time when he could’ve been knocking on Naina’s door, confronting her along with her lover, maybe even challenging the bastard to a duel of some kind.

He wondered if the blackguard had stayed overnight, and if he had, had she let him share her bed.
How in hell could she?! That spot belongs to me, goddammit!

Slapping a twenty dollar bill on the bar, he scrambled to his feet.

“Hi!” Trilled a familiar voice, followed by a hug that reeked of Chanel no: 5. He turned around irritably.

It was Anna, in hot pink with a neckline that plunged almost to her navel.

“Sorry, am a bit late. Thanks for waiting and making it at such short notice. And I must say you look hot!” she gushed.

He brushed her aside with a wry twist of his mouth. Though he was grateful for having the presence of mind to pull on a wrinkle free shirt and custom tailored jacket that he kept in the office for emergencies, especially as the club’s clientele appeared uniformly hip and well-heeled. But he didn’t get one thing. He looked at Anna. “Can you tell me why everybody is wearing red or pink? Is there some kind of dress code you didn’t tell me about?”

“It’s Valentine’s day, silly.” She laughed giving his shoulder a playful shove.

“Is it?” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! You should be with your wife. It completely slipped my mind!”

His lips drew into a thin line. “Never mind that. Get to the point. Why did you call me here?”

She hesitated, taking a sip of his unfinished drink. “The idea is to make my boyfriend shit in his pants with jealousy. He’s been taking me way too much for granted.”

“Hmm…” Rihaan looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Will that bother…uh…your wife?” she asked.

“My wife? No, absolutely not. She’s generous to a fault when it comes to matters of philanthropy.”

And while Anna wrinkled her forehead over his statement, he mused;
Wonder how it’ll affect Naina if she sees me with Anna right now?

“Dr. Mehta…” Anna began.

“Call me Rihaan.” He grinned. “We’ve certainly been working together long enough for us to be casual with names. So, what did you tell your boyfriend?”

“I told him I was going out with my boss who’s a regular dish. He’s seen you so he knows I’m not lying.” She giggled. “I also texted him this club’s address.”

“You did. And what does he do, this gentleman friend of yours?”

“He’s an amateur boxer and a pretty good one at that.”

Rihaan wondered what mess he’d got himself in.

Right then he heard something which consigned everything else to oblivion. Her voice—Naina’s—as radiant and light as a summer breeze, that his ears were tuned to detect even in the noisiest of clubs. He swung around on his barstool.

Yes, there she was, looking unbelievably fetching in a crochet blush pink shift that admirably complemented her flawless complexion, and with her silky hair knotted casually at the base of her neck. She was sitting at a table, with a few other companions, but his eyes focused on only one, the villain of the piece, her lover, the buffoon who looked even more despicable at close quarters.

“Let’s dance,” Rihaan said, standing up abruptly and forcibly pulling Anna by the arm to the clearing in front of the small stage where the saxophonist had gone into a prolonged, flamboyant solo, egged on by a cheering crowd.

Keeping his mouth close to his partner’s ear, as if carrying on an intimate conversation, he swung deliberately close to where his wife was seated so Anna would brush against her arm. Naina glanced up, and her eyes widened with the shock of recognition. Then, as he looked on, her lovely face flushed red with indignation, including the tip of her pretty little nose. Rihaan felt a wonderful sense of achievement. He inclined his head slightly to acknowledge her presence before swinging away.

But the very next moment he saw her get up and walk away. He gave chase, after hurriedly transferring Anna over to a stocky young man, who’d been glowering silently at them for some time, and whom she nervously addressed as Ricky.

“Why did you leave?” he asked his wife, spotting her on the sidewalk. She looked frantic.

“I was just bored. And tired. It’s been a long day. So now if you’ll excuse me.” She stepped off the curb and waved at a taxi. It whizzed by.

“You left because you saw me dancing with Anna,” he snorted.

She pretended not to hear him and took off down a side street at a brisk pace.

He was equally quick to pursue. “You just couldn’t stomach it. You were hopping mad. Isn’t that right?”

“Why?
Why should I feel anything?” she retorted over her shoulder. “You are
free
to do what you want…dance with whom you like…whenever you want.”

“Am I? But I’m sorry you are not!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm and holding her back before she could cross the road. “That man…that buffoon whom I saw you invite into your apartment? Who’s he and what’s he doing with you?”

She seemed nonplussed for a moment. “What…? Oh…so that’s why you didn’t show up that night. I’d been wondering. By the way, his name is Farzad and he’s not a buffoon. He’s my mentor at work. A very nice and kind man who happened to let me rent his place for practically nothing, because he rarely gets to use it. He was there to pick up some stuff before leaving on his next tour, and he was so excited since he’d get to see his wife, who is in Cairo. But anyhow, I don’t think I owe you an explanation.” She glared fiercely at him. “When I know that you don’t care about what I do with my life or who I choose to spend it with.”

“I do care.” He gripped both her arms, compelling her to look into his eyes that burned with a flame she’d never encountered before. “I care because you’re my wife and you belong to no one else but me.” He jerked her closer. “Only me.”

And then his lips found hers.

She struggled, but when he didn’t let go, she gave up. Letting out a long relaxed sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Naina leaned into him, keeping her body flush against his. He supported her weight, holding her in a snug embrace, as they continued to kiss while Anita Baker crooned out of hidden speakers on the sidewalk.

Their coming together seemed inevitable.

He whispered into her ear, “We are just two blocks from my place.”

She couldn’t tell how, but in a matter of moments they were at his door.

He discarded his jacket onto the floor, undid his belt and flung it across the hall, then proceeded to fumble with the buttons of her overcoat. She came willingly to his aid. His ardent kisses were all the encouragement she needed.

Soon she was lying on his cramped bed. He turned on the bedside lamp, then holding her face between his hands, probed deep into her eyes. Her thoughts seemed to match his.

He rolled his thumb over her mouth. Her lips parted, and without wasting a moment he dived in and lost himself. He kissed her neck and her throat. He felt her body through her clothes, and then without the garments.

He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t.

He wanted to pull her inside, absorb her, make her an inseparable part of him. No need of his had ever been more urgent.

Though medical school had taught him all he needed to know about female anatomy, he’d had no real experience with women except for the near disaster in high school. Naina made it easy. It seemed as natural as could be with her. He’d never come across a woman more beautiful or sensual; even more so than the nude he’d attempted to draw during the summer art lessons that Rudy had persuaded him into attending, the woman who’d been responsible for giving him a few sleepless nights.

It was Naina’s first time, too, he realized. Shy at first, she slowly lost all her inhibitions and participated wholeheartedly in the act of lovemaking.

He followed his instincts and they all seemed perfectly right as she moaned and writhed and arched under him.

He paused for air, having reached the end of his tether. “Naina…?”

***

Naina opened her eyes hearing the low, strangled growl of anguish. Desperation was clearly evident in Rihaan’s glazed-over eyes, in the primal expression on his face, in his steamy breath and the rough pressure of his hands marking her hips. It didn’t frighten her, rather made her flesh vibrate and tingle with an equally frenzied craving.

She surrendered completely and her body bucked back in a shock of pain. Her cry was cut short by his deep, bruising kiss.

She whimpered, holding him tight, as he thrust deeper, knocking her head against the bed frame. She cried out his name as he came in a rush.

Her tears made him look at her in anxious inquiry, but she smiled. It was all right.

They
were going to be all right.

Ache

T
he last vestiges of sleep drifted away. Rihaan blinked awake, as broad shafts of sunbeam warmed his naked skin and that of his companion, who was in a similar state of undress.

He remained still, his head resting on her silky mane, relishing the moment. No day could dawn more sublime than the one when he woke up in the arms of his beloved, especially someone who has given up her all to him.

She was a work of art, a masterpiece made only for his exclusive viewing. He held her close. She felt so good beside him.

Soft breath fanned his chest. Hunger stirred again.

Thumbing the curve of a golden breast, he dunked his tongue into the salty hollow of her throat. It sent a low moan rumbling up her neck. He grunted, “Is it a good morning?”

“It’s a wonderful morning,” she retorted, rooting brazenly for his mouth.

They kissed—the simplest, purest, most profound expression of love. Hearts reaching out, bodies melting into one another, all the angst and turmoil, emptying, purging, and then refilling with love.

With her hips crushed against his, she tasted the full brunt of his disease. And with her air sucked dry, she quivered like a giddy puppet in his arms. He had his way with her flesh, toying and teasing, laying out extensive trails of moist heat. She gasped, in shock and delight, and lay panting, like a wild animal in heat, as her brain got pulverized with sensations of the most alien kind. He cavorted inside her. It was love at its most raw; a heady mix of perspiration, body fluids, entangled limbs, and living dreams.

***

Sweet exhaustion. Blessedly sweet and all the more decadent as it was sinful. Yet she felt no remorse. Not even a tinge.

It was close to noon, but Naina wanted to remain in bed and savor his lingering presence while it was still warm and fresh. But after a few more moments had passed, she sighed and got up, and took a slow turn around the apartment, naked except for a sheet, hugging
her Rihaan,
her husband and lover to herself, and the memory of the passion they’d shared.

Skimming her fingers over the counters and shelves, she gazed out of the window at the bright, sunny skies. Everything looked and felt so different today, so welcoming and warm. And one night had changed it all. It had given her all that she’d ever wanted and more; a man to love, a sense of permanence.

She found a stack of magazines on the coffee table. The one on top lay open to the page that displayed her latest work. Her eyes welled up with unshed tears. “My darling. You may wish to call it biology. But I will call it love, because that’s what it is.”

‘We’ll bring back your stuff. You’re staying with me and never leaving again. Got it? Can’t wait for tonight,’
he had said before kissing her goodbye.

She closed her eyes, sliding deeper into his recliner, and shuddering at the notion of being in his arms again. “I can’t wait either.”

But the relative peace was disturbed by a repetitive buzzing sound.

She discovered it to be his cell phone. He had forgotten it in his hurry to leave. She smiled and shook her head.
Poor Dr. Mehta, your wife has completely messed up your equilibrium.

***

“Hi Mrs. Mehta! Can you excuse me for a moment? I just need to forward this call. The phones have been ringing off the hook since morning,” the receptionist at Central Neurosurgical Associates said as soon as she saw Naina walk into the office.

Observing the flurry of blinking lights on the terminal, Naina smiled and nodded sympathetically. Mrs. Mehta—she’d never been addressed as such before. Might as well get used to it.

After a moment, the receptionist turned back to her. “Yes, how may I help you?”

“Uhm. Dr. Mehta, is he available?” Naina asked.

“He’s in the OR, assisting the chief. The case was supposed to be his, but since he didn’t get here on time, the chief had to be called in. Do you know what happened?”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t,” Naina said feeling perturbed.

“He was also on call last night,” the receptionist continued, now in full flow. “He didn’t respond to any of his pages. The chief had to cover for him. He had to field calls from angry patients, as well as frustrated hospital staff. This morning he even attended a long meeting with the hospital administration, all because of Dr. Mehta.”

Oh no!
Naina screwed her eyes shut.

The receptionist’s chubby round face looked bewildered. “It has never happened with him before. And all of us here are having a tough time believing it’s all true. Few are more dedicated and conscientious than Dr. Mehta. Was he incapacitated in any way? Was he sick? He should have at least notified us.”

“No, yes… He was sort of incapacitated…” Naina admitted recalling Rihaan tossing away his pager while carrying her into the bedroom last night. She had thought nothing of it at the time, being in way too much of a hurry to give herself to him.

“We did try contacting him by phone. But there was no response.”

Naina flushed pink. Of course there wasn’t any response. Their passion had reached such thundering heights enough to drown out all extraneous sounds.

“And, he was late for surgery.”

Naina pursed her lips as she recollected pulling Rihaan back when he was about to slip out of bed that morning. He had resisted, albeit very slightly, before giving in. Yes,
she
had incapacitated him.

“Dr. Mehta may be in for some trouble. The chief, he didn’t say anything, but he was wearing his mad face.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through so much trouble,” Naina murmured.

The woman smiled. “It’s not your fault. These things happen sometimes. They are unavoidable. Let’s be happy that a major disaster was averted. That’d have been terrible indeed.”

Naina turned away and walked out slowly in a daze, unable to check the flood of tears that had begun streaming down her face.
I’m sorry Rihaan, my darling, I’m so very sorry.