Chapter 45

"What are you doing?"

Vicky asks in surprise, watching me making the bed.

Just like the good doctor said, by late afternoon I was feeling much better. After lunch, which Vicky insisted I have in the bedroom, I decided it was time to leave. My fever had reduced and though traces of fatigue remained, I was feeling much stronger.

"I am getting ready to leave."

"Look, the weather is not good as yet," he points towards the window. "The rains are continuing even now and its cold outside. You are still weak. It is definitely not a good idea for you to go out in this weather."

I shake my head. "I will take an Uber, so I won't be exposed to the weather. I shall rest once I am home."

Vicky takes a step forward. "Stay back tonight. I promise I will drop you home tomorrow morning. I just want to make sure you have completely recovered."

"I really am feeling much better now, and I will be OK." I insist, "I can take care of myself."

He runs his fingers through his hair, "Do you have to be obstinate about everything?" he snaps, sounding exasperated.

"Only when I have a valid point," I retort.

"You need rest."

"Sir..." I begin my argument to disagree.

"Tarana, one more thing?" he interrupts. His eyes are so full of yearning and pain, that my objections die on my lips.

"Call me Jeet, please," he whispers softly.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Not what I was expecting.

"J..Jeet?" I stutter

"Yes! my family calls me Jeet and since technically you are my wife and therefore my family, call me Jeet, at least.. outside office."

I am family.

'Well he did use the word 'technically',' inner voice says pragmatically. 'It is not for real. You will be back to calling him Vicky or Sir once the annullment comes through.'

Shut Up. I silence inner voice, not wanting to spoil this moment. I want to relish this happy feeling even though deep down I know it is not real, nor will it last long. But I keep my skepticism aside and just enjoy the feeling.

Jeet!! Jeet!! I chant his name inwardly, hiding my smile.

"So," he continues, ignoring or perhaps unaffected by the exchange we just had. "Get rest today or you may need to take sick days off later."

"C'mon, another one night won't do any harm," inner voice goads.

"Alright!" I concede grudgingly to his persistence. "But I will leave first thing tomorrow morning, no matter what," I proclaim.

He gives a heart achingly wide smile, a genuine smile of happiness and relief, his deep dimples dancing. My heart soars at his display of joy, and I fall a little bit more in love. A simple smile from him is enough to melt me. Dear lord, save my heart from Jeet's charms.

Jeet was right. The weather outside was still terrible and stepping out would probably make me sick again. But thanks to him and the medicines, I was feeling much better.

I moved back into his sister's room, sleeping for most of the day, till I was almost back to my normal self by the time I woke up late evening.

Around nine, there is a knock on the door. Jeet peeks his head in after I permit him to enter.

"I have prepared dinner. Would you like to eat?" I nod and silently follow him to the kitchen.

"I hope you like lasagna," he says, bringing out a large casserole with divine smelling lasagna. He places the dish along with a bowl of salad.

The meal was delicious, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, helping myself to two large servings. Seems like my appetite is restored.

Happily satiated with the meal, I join Jeet in the living room, not knowing what else to do as it is too early to sleep. Not that I would fall asleep anytime soon, given that I practically slept for two days straight.

"Would you like to watch some television?" he asks.

"Not really," I reply. "I don't like anything currently on television."

"So," he leans forward intrigued, "what do you like then?"

"Well, I like to read books."

"What other interests do you have?" he presses on.

"I like volunteering at the NGO, watch sunrise and sunsets", I smile recalling the awesome visuals I have witnessed in my life. The sunrise and sunsets in Nainital from Naina peak were out of this world.

I blink when I realise I was daydreaming, and Jeet was observing me with keen fascination.

I clear my throat. Jeet leans back on the couch, crossing his legs. "And..?" he prompts.

"Well, you know," I reply, rattled by his attention, "watch rom-com movies, music, the usual."

"What sort of music do you like?"

"Old hindi songs mainly," I shrug. "I guess you like jazz?" I turn the focus to him.

"I like all types of music. Jazz helps me relax, but I like other genres of music as well."

"Do you play any instrument?"

"I had piano lessons as a kid but was never really interested in it. My brother on the other hand is a gifted musician. He spends most of the time playing or creating music in his studio when he's home."

"A studio? in the house? Wow!! I have never been in a studio," I exclaim, even though I should not be surprised by now.

"Would you like to see it?" Jeet asks.

"I would, if it's not a problem," I reply in glee.

"Come on. I don't think Akash will mind. He loves showing off his studio."

He leads me to the second floor and opens a mirror panelled double door and switches on the lights. I walk to the middle of the wooden floor room, spinning around to admire the beautiful studio.

No wonder Akash is proud of it. The room is divided in half by two distinct sections. One half is a dance/workout side, having floor to ceiling mirrors on one wall. The other half of the room is equipped with a plethora of music instruments, full-fledged recording equipment, consoles, a large flat screen TV, microphones and many gadgets whose use I am unaware of. This looks more like a music recording/editing room.

I walk over to the musical instruments, trailing my fingers over the electronic keyboard, drums, electric guitar till I reach the acoustic guitar. I pause, my hands caressing the case.

Jeet comes up behind me, noticing my enchantment.

"Do you like guitar music?" he asks. He removes the guitar from its case holding it against his body. He randomly strikes the strings. "Unfortunately, I do not know how to play the guitar to serenade you," he says with an impish smirk.

I take guitar from Jeet's hands. Sitting on the chair I position the guitar on my thigh, and play through an open G, C and D chord before switching to G, C and D barre chords.

I look up at Jeet, who is staring at me with his mouth open in shock and awe. "How stupid of me to assume," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

I smile bashfully, handing the guitar to Jeet. He shakes his head pushing the guitar back at me.

"No, no, no! Play something."

"I haven't played for seven years. I am very rusty."

"Oh, it looked like you knew what you were doing there, just now. You must know something to play," he insists. "Play your favourite song."

Holding the guitar in my hand brings back a rush of old memories. Of Nainital. Of dad teaching me to play the guitar. Of us playing together. Of Ma singing along to all our favourite songs.

I let go of the emotions in a long breath as I tune the guitar to the pitch I want.

Positioning my fingers to A major 7 I start strumming, letting the music take over, my fingers moving effortlessly over the fretboard, like I never stopped playing. Automatically I start singing along with the music, closing my eyes, losing myself in the music and memories of innocent times.

Ude, Khule Aasaman Mein Khaabon Ke Parinday,

Ude, Dil Ke Jahaan Main Khaabon Ke Parinday,

Oho, Kya Pata, Jaayenge Kahan,

Khule Hain Jo Pal, Kahe Yeh Nazar,

Lagta Hai Ab Hai Jaage Hum,

Fikrein Jo Thi, Peeche Reh Gayi,

Nikle Unse Aage Hum.

Hawa Mein Beh Rahi Hai Zindagi,

Yeh Hum Se Keh Rahi Hai Zindagi,

Oho, Ab Toh, Jo Bhi Ho So Ho...

I open my eyes. Jeet is sitting in front of me with a mesmerised look. "Superb, wonderful!" he beams in happiness. "That was fantastic! You play and sing so well. I would have never guessed."

I look down blushing. I hold out the guitar to him.

"What? no! please continue. Please?" He requests earnestly. How can I refuse when he makes those sweet puppy eyes?

I watch in delight as Jeet sways to the music, clearly enjoying himself. He gives an enthusiastic applause, when the song is over.

He suggests other songs for me to play, which I oblige. Initially, I played old hindi and english numbers and he joined in singing those he knew, but slowly our singing got progressively worse till we both ended up singing off key and off tune, making us both laugh at our absurdity. We continue singing songs deliberately in false pitches causing us to giggle uncontrollably, till my stomach starts to hurt.

I beam in happiness, while I put the guitar away - partly due to the fun we had during our little jam session but also because it felt great to play the instrument after so long.

"Tarana!" Jeet looks at me in fascination. "You give justice to your name."

"It is actually a ship name of my parents, Tarun and Chandana, but I guess it was also divine providence that I got musically inclined."

"Do you know there is an old hindi song with your name in it?"

"Yes! I have heard it a million times. My mum and dad used to sing it all the time. It was their favourite."

Jeet whips out his phone, makes a few strokes on the screen, and Shailendra Singh's familiar melodious voice plays through the surround speakers in the room.

Gunche lage hai kehne,

Phoolon se bhi suna hai taraana pyaar ka,

Kehta hai dil, aake mil oh meri zindagi,

Tanha na beet jaaye din bahaar ka.

All of a sudden, Jeet grabs my waist with his right hand and my right hand in his left. It takes me a few seconds to understand what is going on. I place my left hand on his shoulder, and we start swaying to the music. Before I could move away at the end of the song, the next song from his playlist starts playing automatically.

'Electric Love' comes on and we continue our dancing. Intermittently, Jeet lifts my hand over our heads and flicks it, sending me in a quick twirl.

'Amazed' plays next. Jeet tugs my waist, drawing me closer, our dancing becomes slower. My head reaches a little above his shoulder and we are so close, that I can feel his breath upon my neck. It takes every ounce of my resistance to stop myself from placing my head to his chest. As the music ends, Jeet looks down at me, his eyes holding a storm of emotions. He moves back slowly, letting go of me.

He clears his throat, "that was something huh?" he smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. "Yes!" I reply, playing along. I wonder if he feels the same deep attraction to me as I feel for him.

"So, is dancing your passion?" I ask looking into his eyes, trying to break the silence that fell.

I catch a glimpse of his eyes flare with desire, before he quickly looks away. "No, I like dancing but it's not my passion."

"Then what is it?" I press on, "You must have some other interests. Is it movies?"

He hesitates for a moment, then he gives a decisive grin.

"I will show you." He leads me out of the studio, to his bedroom.

He opens the door to what I had assume is his walk-in closet just like his sister's. He indicates for me to enter. I walk a little ahead inside the pitch-dark room. I hear Jeet's footsteps behind me followed by the sound of the door closing, a click of the lock and his hot breath on my neck.

My heart slams in my chest.

"What are you doing?"