Ahanay had avoided Naina for both their sake because each time he saw her in that torn dress, anger swelled within him that threatened to burst and kill the man who did this to her. His control to not look at her blinded him as he walked around the hall, meeting his business partners and not noticing Naina talking to a suspicious waiter at the counter. He knew she was there, her presence was larger than all people in this room. Her presence sat heavily on his chest, urging him to look at her, but he didn't. He was too angry to give in.

Or so he thought. As the electricity of the night fizzled into the drowsy drunkenness of midnight, Ahanay's gaze broke away from the stout, rich CEO of an old oil company and to a flurry of red exiting the hall, leaving embers burning behind. He noticed Priya right there with a strange smile as she swirled golden champagne in the wine glass. He had never seen her smile like that, a smile that tried to suppress a dark, thrilling joy, but the joy creeped out and pulled violently at the corners of her lips. Did she. . .?

Excusing himself, he strode to her and grabbed her arm, looking straight into those angelic eyes that had lost their serenity. He didn't have to ask her, he knew. Before she could defend herself, he ran outside as pure instinct kicked in as if his love was instinctual, searching for his little demon. Arriving at the entrance of the mansion where none of the security guards were visible, he quickly ran out, seeing his demon trapped in a heated conversation with a masked man who also happened to hold a knife.

As he yelled at her to get away and threatened to murder the murderer, he climbed down the stairs. Naina did exactly the opposite of what she was supposed to, suddenly spewing some pithy statements about Gandhi and whatnot. With every step-down, his own blood pumped inside, hot and angry. The idea of anyone who dared to touch her was enough to make him see red. On top of grabbing her by force, the masked man pressed a knife against her throat. That. Was. It.

Before Ahanay could demonstrate some judo and boxing that he had learned since childhood, Naina took care of the man in her own, special way. As she vomited on him and he released her, Ahanay quickly pushed her behind him and grabbed the man by his collar before he could flee. Swinging his arm to deliver a perfect punch on his nose, the murderer fell to the floor. Placing his foot on the hitman's head, Ahanay was ready to crush him to death.

"---and the handsome man takes down the weird man with just one punch! This is Naina speaking, live from-from---" Naina's stupid commentary drew Ahanay out of dangerous thoughts as he took a sharp breath, reminding himself of being civilized and smart. Stooping down, he picked up the hit man, ripping open his mask. Instantly, there was a switch of recognition in his mind. He had seen this face somewhere . . . This face . . .

"Priya memsaab sent me," said the man with trembling lips, a stark contrast to his bulky frame.

"Priya?" Naina's voice caught Ahanay's attention, alarming him. She shouldn't know.  With another swift swing of his arm, Ahanay knocked her down. Naina passed out immediately on the spot.

"I have never hit a woman." The murderer looked at Ahanay in shock and Ahanay winced, explaining himself, "During college days, I struck many drunk fool friends of mine down like this. They stop being a nuisance, have a good night's sleep, and wake up forgetting that they were knocked down. No bruise." He bent down to check if Naina was still breathing. "Besides, she can't know that this was Priya's plan. I'll deal with Priya myself."

"Why aren't you letting me kill her?"

"Because," Ahanay said, never completing that sentence. "Next time you dare to lay a finger on her---"

The murderer clasped his hands together, his eyes begging. "Even for crores of rupees, I'll refuse to kill her. She's too difficult."

"Good," Ahanay said, picking up Naina in his arms, bridal style. "She's mad, but she's mine."

Carrying her to their bedroom (now that Ahanay had vowed to act like a real couple), he placed her gently on the bed. She was still wrapped in his big coat that made her look smaller and Ahanay wanted to scoop her into his arms once again. God, his demon was fucking adorable. Her thick mass of dark, messy hair spilled over the pillow and her eyes were peacefully shut. Taking a wet towel, Ahanay wiped her face, disappearing vomit stains and spoiled makeup. She hiccuped in between, making Ahanay freeze in fear. What was his demonic wife doing to him? He had gone from wanting to kill her to kissing her real quick.

He didn't know if he wanted a real marriage out of her, whatever that meant, but he knew that he wanted her so fucking close to him that their breaths mingled into one. All the time. And he was ready to get it by all means.

As Naina lay passed out unconscious, Ahanay promised himself to protect her, to give her all the happiness that she had unknowingly given him.

* * *

"She's mad, but she's mine."

Naina's eyes opened to those words buzzing in her heavy head, confirming that yesterday was a dream because her husband would never say something like that. After all, he wasn't a cheesy hero of some romance novel. As she twisted with her bones cracking, she came face-to-face with her husband, his eyes were closed like he was sleeping. Goodness, he was sleeping. Shirtless. Wait, did he have his pants on? Naina sneaked a peak inside their blanket, leaving a sigh of relief at seeing his black boxers. But he had been sleeping beside her? All night?

Suddenly, all those promises of a real marriage made by Ahanay in fury and passion stormed on her, whirling her into a realm of uneasy excitement. But she stopped from blushing, reminding herself (in reverse order) of his kid, his affair, and his scheme of robbing her out of her old home and property. As Ahanay lay passed out before her, Naina promised herself to kill him, to return all the hurt and wrongdoings that he had knowingly given her.

She had to be up on her feet and think of ways to kill him, but before that, why did her mouth feel so weird? She gagged at the bitter taste lingering in her mouth, hopping out of the bed and rushing to the bathroom. While brushing her teeth, vague memories of last night smudged today's clarity . . . The masked man . . . Ahanay coming to rescue her . . . Gandhi and the Quit India movement . . . Her vomiting on the masked man . . . Ahanay punching her . . .

Punching her?

Quickly spitting out the toothpaste, Naina ran towards the bed, climbing on top of him, jumping on him, doing karate chops on his chest, and shouting, "You wife beater! You domestic abuser! How dare you violate me!"

Ahanay's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at being shaken by a tornado-like force. Before he even opened his eyes, he caught her thighs and flipped her over like a dosa, hovering over her. "I violated you?" He questioned in his sleep-stricken, husky voice and cocked his head causing his disheveled hair to fall over his eyes. Naina thought he was still sleeping, his eyes droopy with a lazy smile plastered on his face like a peaceful, big baby in the middle of a dream. He leaned forward suddenly, placing a small kiss on her nose. "I haven't done anything to you yet."

An orchestra started singing in Naina's heart, but she drowned the noise by scrunching her nose and saying in pretend disgust, "Ew, why are you being like this?"

"Like a real husband?" He said with the same lazy smile, rolling away from her. Naina instantly regretted her pretense, she wanted him on top of her, to see the sunlight play peek-a-boo in his hair and his inner boyishness shine through his sleep. No. She didn't want him, she couldn't. This man was a con man. She should never forget that.

"Sure, a real husband would never punch his wife. Why did you punch me? And who was that man?"

"A petty thief. He took you for a rich heiress," Ahanay said dismissively, the latter part flattering Naina who tried to suppress her swelling pride.

"But why did you punch me?"

"I was going to save you."

"I needed to be saved from you."

"Do you, now?" Before Naina could blink, Ahanay was on top of her again, trapping her in between his body.

"Get off me or I'll vomit over you too!"

"I didn't even show you my knife yet."

"I can feel it down there," she blurted out and his eyes widened in mock shame.

"You're a dirty woman, Naina."

"Oh come on, you meant the knife part in that way. I'm no innocent fool." 

"What way?"

"Y-You know . . ." She didn't understand why she was stuttering, perhaps because his face was so close that their breaths mingled into one. "That-that way."

"This way?" Ahanay asked almost innocently, pressing his hardness against her thighs, making her go still. "You're like a blushing bride now."

"You wanted a real marriage . . ."

"It's no fun. My wife is far from being that."

"Is this more like your wife then?" Naina asked in a trembling voice, her hand suddenly catching hold of his manhood, making him suck in a harsh breath. For a few seconds, neither of them said a word, staring into each other's eyes. Challenging each other to dare to make the next move.

Before Ahanay could lose control and take her, a child's squeal tore through the house and a little boy who resembled Ahanay came bolting through the door, throwing himself on the bed and shocking Naina.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

(Tap on the little star if you're liking this story :))