Chapter 73 Waiting for My Grumpy Husband
Neeti looks at him through tear-filled eyes, as if he has just uncovered the deepest secret of her heart and laid it bare before her. But there is still a flicker of anger in her tone as she says, "You're so mean! You don't even talk to me properly. Even at the party, you didn't say a word to me..."
Shorya's expression shifts; his jaw tightens slightly. He looks straight into her eyes, a mix of possessiveness and annoyance in his voice. "Shut up! I'm still mad at you! You wore such an indecent, short dress everyone's eyes were on you!"
Neeti shoots back, her tone sharp, "Oh, come on! Everyone wears it! Now what, I can't even wear a dress if I want to?"
Without hesitation, Shorya replies, "You look more beautiful in Indian attire."
Neeti raises her brows and retorts, "But I like western clothes."
A sly, teasing smile tugs at Shorya's lips. "Fine. You can wear them in front of me only. And even if you don't wear anything in front of me, I still won't have a problem."
Neeti freezes for a moment, his words leaving her stunned. Her eyes widen in shock, but somewhere in that surprise, there is a hidden blush she doesn't want to admit.
Shorya cheekily winks at her. I, embarrassed, bury my face against his chest, as if trying to hide both my tears and the faint smile creeping onto my lips. Shorya chuckles softly and wraps both arms tightly around me.
It’s already night, around 11 p.m. The house lies in darkness, but in Samar's room, the balcony is bathed in soft moonlight. A gentle breeze drifts through the air.
I stand leaning against the balcony railing, arms folded, my gaze fixed far into the night sky. My dupatta flutters lightly in the wind, but the sternness in my eyes makes my face look even more unyielding.
Just then, the bedroom door creaks open. Samar steps in. He sees my back as I stand there on the balcony. For a moment, he pauses, wanting to see my face, but I have no intention of turning toward him.
Samar gives a faint smile, as if trying to take the situation lightly. "Ishani..." he calls softly.
But I don’t even glance his way. My voice is cold when I speak. "Leave me... at least then I won’t have to wait for you anymore."
Hearing this, Samar’s expression tightens. He has already come home tired, his mind weighed down by the pressure in his ears, the endless work of handling the Black World, and the burning thought of punishing the ones who attacked Vihaan.
Frustration wells up, and with a hint of irritation, he steps forward and says, "Who told you to wait for me? When did I ever say you should stay up all night for me?"
I turn toward him then, my eyes wet but still laced with anger. "Fine then, I’ll never wait for you again. Your life is yours, and mine is mine."
Samar draws in a deep breath. His own anger begins to melt, because in my eyes he sees not only complaint... but hurt.
Slowly, he steps closer until he is standing right beside me on the balcony. He gently lifts my face so that I meet his gaze. "Sweetheart... I don’t want you troubled because of me. I don’t want you doing all this for my sake. I just want you to take care of yourself. You’re precious to me... more than you can imagine."
Tears well in my eyes as I whisper, "But what can I do? Until you come home, I can’t find peace."
Samar’s heart softens completely. A faint smile touches his lips as he places a finger gently over mine. "That’s enough... don’t say anything more. I understand."
Then he pulls me into his arms so close that I can feel the rapid beat of his heart. He buries his face in my hair, then presses tender kisses, one by one, on my forehead, my eyes, and my cheeks.
I move slightly away from Samar’s chest, a faint softness appearing in my eyes. Gently, with a small glimmer of hope, I ask, "Shall I set the dinner for you?... I can make fresh hot rotis."
Samar brushes his hand away from my hair and replies plainly, as if it were just a normal statement,
"No... I already had dinner."
In that single moment, my face goes completely blank. The tiny hope in my heart that tonight we might sit together at the table and eat, maybe even make things a little better between us shatters instantly. A cold emptiness settles in my heart.
"Had dinner...?" I repeat softly, as if I can’t believe it. "You mean... it didn’t even occur to you that I’ve been here waiting for you... hungry?"
Samar frowns slightly. "Ishani, I was tired... the meeting dragged on for too long, so all the members had dinner there and I ate too. What’s the big deal?"
My voice rises now, mixed with tears and anger. "What’s the big deal? You think I’m sitting here enjoying myself? I’ve been hungry for hours, only so I could have dinner with my grumpy husband! And you... you only ever remember your meetings and your work!"
Samar’s tone hardens with frustration. "Don’t make a drama out of everything, Ishani! When did I ever tell you to wait for me? You decided to stay hungry yourself, how is that my fault?"
Those words cut even deeper. "Fault? You think it's my fault? Yes... it's my mistake. I'm the fool who stays up for you, who stays hungry for you. You come home after having dinner outside, as if I'm here only to wait for you!"
Before Samar can respond, I shove him away as he steps closer. "Stay away from me! You don't feel my hunger, my waiting... nothing! For you, I'm just a responsibility... isn't that right?"
Samar tries to grab my hand. "Ishani, you're misunderstanding...."