It was one of those rare Sunday afternoons when I allowed myself to relax. The couch, with its soft cushions, seemed inviting after the long week of dealing with students and Krutika's antics. My eyelids feel heavy as I settle in, promising myself just a short nap.
The faint rustling of papers and the occasional sound of Krutika humming somewhere in the background were oddly soothing.
"Don't bother me," I murmured, though I doubted she was even listening.
"Of course, Professor," she replied, her tone dripping with mischief. I was too tired to read it.
I drifted off quickly, the comfort of the couch lulling me into sleep.
When I woke, something felt... off.
I blinked against the light filtering through the window, a strange heaviness pressing against my chest. The faint scent of marigolds filled the air, and the sound of muffled sobs reached my ears.
What theâ
I sat up slightly, only to freeze when I saw Krutika sitting beside me, her face buried in her hands, shaking with what I first thought were sobs.
"Kruti?" My voice was groggy, but I noticed the corners of her lips twitch. Was she... laughing?
She lifted her head, her eyes wide and full of exaggerated sorrow. "Oh, Devansh," she wailed dramatically. "Why did you have to leave me?"
What?
I looked down and nearly choked. A white cloth was draped over my body, and a garland of marigolds hung around my neck. Flower petals were scattered all over me, and there was a... bindi on my forehead?
"What the hell is this?" I demanded, sitting up fully.
"Devansh..." she sobbed, her voice trembling with exaggerated grief. "Oh, my beloved professor husband, why did you have to leave me so soon?"
I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "Krutika."
She didn't stop. "How will I live without you?" she wailed, tilting her head back as if she were in the middle of some tragic Bollywood scene.
"Krutika." My voice was sharper now, but she still ignored me.
She leaned forward, shaking her head dramatically, her hair falling over her face. "Who will yell at me now for being late? Who will glare at me with those grumpy eyes? Oh, Devansh, why did you have to go?!"
That's when I noticed the mirror behind her.
My eyes darted to my reflection, and I froze again.
She had done my makeup. Not just any makeup, thoughâoh, no. She had gone all out with a foundation that made my skin look unnaturally pale, dark circles drawn around my eyes, and some kind of red pigment smeared on my lips to make me look lifeless. She'd given me the full "dead man" treatment.
I touched my face, my fingers brushing against something sticky. Makeup. She had put makeup on me!
"Kruti," I growled, my voice low and warning.
She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her cheeks. "You should have seen your face!" she managed between fits of laughter.
I yanked off the garland and threw it aside, the white cloth following quickly after. My reflection in the nearby mirror caught my eye, and I froze.
Black eyeliner streaked across my eyes, exaggerated dark circles, and pale powder that made me look like I'd crawled out of a grave.
I looked... dead.
"Kruti!"
She fell over, laughing uncontrollably. "You'reâoh my GodâDev, you're the perfect ghost!"
My face burned. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?"
"Ridiculous? No, it's perfect! You're my masterpiece," she teased, crawling closer to me on the couch, holding her sides as she tried to contain her amusement.
"I look like a corpse!" I snapped, storming to my feet.
"That was the point," she said, sitting up and wiping her eyes.
I glared at her. "This isn't funny."
She tried to school her expression but failed miserably, biting her lip to keep from laughing again. "Oh, come on, Dev. You needed a makeover anyway."
"A makeover?" I repeated, incredulous. "I needed a nap, not a mortuary setup!"
She dissolved into giggles again, and I felt my patience snap. Turning on my heel, I marched toward the bathroom. "You're impossible," I muttered under my breath.
"I love you too!" she called after me, her voice filled with laughter.
I ran a hand down my face, only to remember too late that it was covered in whatever makeup concoction she'd used. My fingers came away smeared with white and black.
"Ugh," I muttered, getting to my feet. "I'm not dealing with this."
Krutika scrambled after me as I stormed toward the bathroom. "Oh, come on, Dev! Don't be mad. It was funny!"
"Funny?" I growled, slamming the bathroom door behind me. "You have a twisted sense of humor, Krutika!"
Her laughter echoed through the door. "You should've seen yourself! You looked so peaceful, like a grumpy little angel."
I turned on the sink, scrubbing at my face with more force than necessary. The water turned murky as layers of makeup washed away, but the stubborn eyeliner and lipstick clung to my skin like a bad memory.
"Krutika," I said, my voice muffled by the sound of running water.
"Yes, dear husband?" she called sweetly.
"Don't call me that right now," I snapped, scrubbing harder.
"Why not?" she teased. "You're the picture of a perfect husband. You even let me give you a makeover in your sleep!"
I groaned, grabbing a towel to wipe my face. When I finally looked in the mirror, most of the makeup was gone, but faint smudges remained, mocking me.
When I opened the door, she was standing there, her arms crossed, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"You know," she said, tilting her head, "you should really consider doing makeup tutorials. You've got the cheekbones for it."
"Krutika," I warned.
"Okay, okay," she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I'll stop."
She didn't stop.
When I emerged from the bathroom, my face clean but my temper still simmering, she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her phone in hand. She looked up at me and grinned.
"You clean up well, Professor," she teased.
I glared at her. "You're lucky I don't have class tomorrow. If you think I won't make your life hell for this, you're wrong."
She pouted dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh no, the professor is mad at me. Whatever will I do?"
"Keep testing me, Krutika. See what happens," I warned, though the corners of my mouth twitched despite myself.
She hopped up from the couch, walking toward me with a playful bounce in her step. "Admit it. You loved it."
"Loved it?" I scoffed. "I looked like a Halloween prop."
She stopped in front of me, her grin widening. "But a very handsome Halloween prop."
"Don't push your luck," I said, trying to keep my voice stern.
She laughed, "You're too grumpy for your own good, Dev."
"And you're too childish for yours," I shot back, though the irritation in my voice was already fading.
She stepped back, her hands on her hips as she surveyed me. "You know, you should thank me."
"For what?"
"For reminding you how to have fun," she said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes, turning away before she could see the small smile tugging at my lips. "You're exhausting."
"And you love it," she said, her voice teasing.
I didn't respond, but as I walked away, I could still hear her laughter echoing behind me.
Later that evening, as we sat down for dinner, she slid a small photo across the table toward me.
"What's this?" I asked warily.
"Your new profile picture," she said, biting back a grin.
I picked up the photo and groaned. It was a picture of me during her ridiculous prank, complete with the garland, makeup, and flower petals.
"You kept a picture?"
"Of course. It's a memory," she said innocently.
I shook my head, crumpling the photo and tossing it into the trash. "You're impossible."
"And you're adorable," she replied, her laughter filling the room.
Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile.