With one last knowing smile, he grabbed an apple and walked away.
"Well, well, well..." my father-in-law cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling. "This is going to be fun, isn't it?"
"I guess it will be," I said, starting to clear the counter. Mr. Chauhan tried to help with the dishes, but I nudged him away with a smile.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of nervous energy. I found myself in our bedroom, staring at an open suitcase like it was a chessboard I didn’t know how to play. How was I supposed to pack for a “new beginning” when the old one was still bruised and aching?
I pulled a few cotton dresses from the hanger, my mind drifting back to the way Saurav had looked at my lips. It wasn’t the look of a man playing a part for his father. It was the look of a man hungry for something he had denied himself for a year.
“Need help?”
I jumped, dropping the clothes. Saurav was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest. That posture, casual yet commanding, was exactly how I imagined the male lead in a dark romance. And my husband gave me the same brooding, magnetic energy I had always yearned for. I was behaving like a lovesick fool.
“You startled me,” I said, bending to retrieve the clothes. “And no, I’m fine. I just… I don’t know what to take. I’ve never been to Bali. I’ve heard so much about it, but I’ve never been.”
Saurav walked into the room, the space suddenly feeling much smaller. He reached past me, picking up a bright yellow sundress I had cast aside.
“Take this one,” he said, his voice low, almost seductive. “It suits you.”
I took the fabric from his hand, our fingers brushing for a second too long. Electricity shot through me. He moved to the wardrobe and pulled out a few more dresses I didn’t even know were there.
“I bought these for you. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but… ” Saurav paused, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. My breath caught as heat rushed through me. “…I know your body well enough.”
“Oh God, Saurav.” My cheeks burned as I turned back to the suitcase, desperate to ignore the way his gaze scorched me, making me feel warm everywhere. I needed to change the subject before I lost my mind.
“About the assignment… the one after this trip,” I said. His expression shuttered instantly, that familiar wall sliding back into place.
“Don’t, Kavya. Don’t think about the assignment. We have thirty days.”
“But how am I supposed to forget?” My voice trembled. “You’re asking me to go on a honeymoon while you’re preparing for war.”
He stepped closer, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. It was the first time he had touched me without pretense. “I’masking you to give me thirty days of peace. If I’m going to lead my men into that environment, I need to know what I’m coming home to. I need to know if there’s still a ‘we’ left to fight for.”
I looked up at him, searching those dark, disciplined eyes. For the first time, I didn’t see the lead pilot or the stubborn son. I saw a man just as terrified of the silence between us as I was.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Thirty days.”
Relief washed over his face. He squeezed my shoulders firmly before letting go.
“Finish packing. The car will be here at five tomorrow morning.”
As he walked out, I turned back to my suitcase. I didn’t just pack the yellow dress; I packed the hope I had been trying to bury for months.
That night, as I lay on my side of the bed, the silence was no longer suffocating. It was heavy, yes, but heavy like a cloud right before it rains which was charged with electricity and the promise of change. Tomorrow, we would leave the villa, the secrets, and the shadows of his parents behind.
Tomorrow, it would just be us.
_______
Chapter 28
KAVYA
The air in Ubud felt different, it was light, warm, and vibrant, as if the landscape itself were exhaling. As we arrived, the horizon opened up like a vision of a lush sanctuary, instantly softening the jagged stress of the past few weeks.
I stepped out of the car, my eyes drawn to the vast sky stretching over the dense canopy. The distant murmur of a stream, the intoxicating scent of damp earth, and the rhythmic rustle of tropical leaves felt almost surreal. For a heartbeat, I forgot the heavy silence between Saurav and me, the distance that had started to feel impossible to bridge.
"Let’s go," Saurav said, hauling the suitcases from the trunk. His voice was the same as always, yet seeing him here, framed by the wild green of Bali, he didn't feel quite so far away.