The first light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting stripes of pale gold across my bedroom wall. I woke up alone, the sheets beside me cool and undisturbed. For a moment, the events of last night felt like a fever dream, a lurid fantasy born of my own ambition and Janaki's manipulative genius. But then I remembered. I remembered carrying Devi's limp, trusting form to her bed. I remembered the soft, sleepy sigh she made as I pulled the covers over her. And I remembered, with a strange, protective pang of guilt, carefully pulling her panties back up, then finding a clean pair of pajama pants and wrestling them onto her unconscious body. I couldn't have her waking up half-naked and confused. That would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer. I was her protector, her confidant, her loving stepson. The act was as much for my own peace of mind as it was for hers.
I lay in bed, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling, my mind a chaotic mess of triumph and trepidation. Last night had been a victory, a major breakthrough. The wall around Devi had crumbled, her confession a testament to the success of Janaki's cruel, effective strategy. But what now? How were the coming days supposed to play out? Would she be embarrassed? Would she pretend it never happened? Or would she look at me with those lonely, loving eyes, her desire now a conscious, acknowledged thing? The uncertainty was a new kind of frustration, a puzzle with a million possible outcomes, and I had no idea which one I was heading towards.
Hours later, I was standing at the gate, my gym bag slung over my shoulder, my body buzzing with a familiar, restless energy. I was waiting for Kushi. But she didn't show up. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. The street remained empty, save for a few stray cats and the morning newspaper delivery boy. A flicker of annoyance, hot and sharp, went through me. Was she still flustered from yesterday? Was she hiding in her apartment, replaying our charged, awkward encounter, her desire warring with her fear? It was a plausible theory. Janaki had said the wanting was too strong, but she hadn't mentioned the timeline.
With a frustrated sigh, I decided to go on my own. I couldn't let my own training fall behind. A prince had to maintain his physique.
I was halfway through my warm-up on the treadmill, my body already starting to sweat, when she walked in. My heart gave a little leap of relief, which was immediately crushed by a wave of profound annoyance.
She was wearing the grey tracksuit. Again.
It was like a bad dream. A regression. A step back into the frumpy, insecure shadows. She hurried over to me, her face a mask of apologetic distress.
"Sid! I'm so sorry," she panted, her cheeks flushed. "I overslept. It was… a mess this morning. My husband, he… well, it doesn't matter. I'm here now."
The mention of her husband was like a splash of cold water. It was a stark, unwelcome reminder of the reality I was trying to dismantle. "It's fine," I said, my voice a little clipped, my eyes scanning her shapeless form. "Let's just get started."
The workout was a study in frustration. While I grunted and strained, pushing myself to lift heavier, run faster, Kushi remained hidden in her baggy prison. She did her cardio, she did her light weights, but the jacket stayed zipped, the pants stayed loose. The confident, radiant woman who had blushed under the admiring stares of the other gym-goers was gone, replaced by the shy, insecure creature from her first day. Every time I tried to catch her eye, to offer an encouraging word, she would look away, her focus fixed on some invisible point on the floor. It was like talking to a brick wall. A soft, curvy, frustratingly well-padded brick wall.
After the gym, as we were stretching, she was already gathering her things, her movements rushed, evasive. "I have to go," she said, not meeting my gaze. "I need to get home. He's expecting lunch."
"He?" I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief. "He can make his own damn lunch."
A flash of something... fear, maybe, or just exhaustion... crossed her face. "I just… I need to go, Sid. I'm sorry."
And then she was gone. Leaving me standing there, my body slick with sweat, my mood black with frustration. She was running away again. Back to him. Back to the life she claimed to hate.
I returned home, the silence of the apartment a stark contrast to the noisy energy of the gym. I made myself a sandwich, my movements mechanical, my mind a whirlwind of unresolved questions. What was I doing wrong? Had the moment in my apartment been too much, too soon? Was I being too aggressive? Not aggressive enough? Was I supposed to chase her, or give her space? Was I a prince, or just a pathetic, scrawny kid playing dress-up in a world he didn't understand?
I sat at the kitchen table, my uneaten lunch a sad testament to my mental state. My head was full of Devi's drunken confession and Kushi's sudden retreat. One queen was ready to be claimed, but the other was building her walls even higher. I was caught in the middle, a pawn in a game I was only just beginning to understand. And the frustration, the constant, gnawing uncertainty of it all, was a hunger that no sandwich could satisfy.