Zayne

As I continued to tickle Naina, I became acutely aware of my hands brushing against her breasts from time to time as she squirmed and laughed. One moment she was giggling, and the next, a genuine moan escaped her lips. It sent a rush of heat through me, and I dropped her wrists, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. I was too turned on to think straight; I needed to take a step back.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. We had to take things slow.

I looked at Naina, and just as we were about to speak, a knock at the door interrupted us. She let out a small giggle, and I made my way to the door, opening it to find Umma standing there.

"Keep the noise down," she said, trying to suppress a smile.

I couldn't help but grin back at her. "Okay, we'll try," I replied, intentionally teasing her to make her uncomfortable. She sighed dramatically, muttering something about my insolence under her breath before walking away. I closed the door, chuckling to myself.

"Umma'll definitely help us take things slow," Naina laughed, her light-hearted mood was the direct opposite of the agony I had seen in the car earlier. I wanted nothing more than to see her like this, full of joy. I promised myself I wouldn't bring up the subject of the asshole again; I wouldn't let anyone hurt her again— not even my mother.

Naina walked toward me, a smile illuminating her face. She looped her arms around my neck, humming softly to a song I hadn't heard before. She began swaying slightly, and I realized she was trying to dance with me. It felt awkward, but for Naina, I would do anything. I placed my hands on her waist, and looked into her eyes. She looked happy, genuinely happy.

I moved slowly with her, and I noticed the moment, when her eyes widened, her smile faltered, and the happiness I had seen earlier had turned to confusion and then sorrow. She stopped humming, dropping her hands to her sides awkwardly. My hands remained on her waist. Something had changed inside her head.

Her eyes glistened, and I instinctively leaned in closer, wrapping her in a hug. She stayed stiff in my embrace for a few moments before clearing her throat.

"Zayne, I need to go to the bathroom," she said softly.

I released her, understanding that she needed a moment to pull herself together. I would give her all the time she required if it meant she would return to me. I lay back on the bed, feeling exhausted, my eyes heavy as I drifted off.

The last thing I remembered was the sound of the bathroom door opening.

When I woke up the next day, it was before Naina—a first for me. I watched her sleep, noticing her puffy eyes and the redness of her nose. She didn't look peaceful; it was the first time I had seen someone appear so stressed in their sleep. I reached out, gently smoothing the crease on her forehead, and spooned her softly. Her face relaxed in response, and I wished I had been able to stay awake for her last night.

Not wanting to disturb her, I let her sleep and quietly finished my morning routine before heading downstairs.

I found my mother, Vijaya aunty, and Omar gathered around the dining table. My father and Haseef uncle had already left for work, and Umma and her sister were deep in conversation.

"I heard you woke up the whole household last night with the sounds from your bedroom," Omar teased, his smirk infuriating me.

I frowned. "How do you know?" I asked, immediately regretting the implication of my words.

Omar chuckled. "So did she pop your cherry? Swipe your V card?"

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore his irritating intrusion. "Grow up, dude. You know you'd be the last person I'd tell."

"I'll just ask akka when she comes," he said, and I scowled deeper, trying to keep my frustration in check.

"Where is Naina?" umma asked.

Before I could say anything, Omar chimed in, "She's too sore to walk."

One day, I would kill him.

I stood up, ready to punch him, but he dodged out of the way. We had always provoked each other as kids, getting into physical fights over the smallest things. I recalled how we had each other in headlocks over a decade ago, our parents having to pull us apart.

Despite our age difference, we had been very close. I knew he was trying to incite a fight just for fun. But I really wasn't in the mood for it today.

"Stop fighting like children!" Umma scolded, her voice sharp as she turned to me. "Zayne, he's younger than you!"

"He started it," I complained, sounding even more childish than I intended.

"No, I saw you getting up to hit him," Umma countered, reaching out to twist my ear.

"Umma!" I exclaimed, half-laughing, half-annoyed. She still treated me like a kid sometimes, despite my age.

In the commotion, I hadn't noticed Naina had entered until Omar chimed in, "So, is he a dunce in bed too?"

My head whipped around, my protective instincts kicking in. I didn't want him teasing her or bothering her, but Naina seemed unfazed. She laughed it off and came to sit next to me.

"We were waiting for you to serve breakfast," Umma said, and I smiled at her kindness for waiting for my wife. But when I glanced at Naina, she looked stricken. I didn't understand what the problem was.

Umma stood up, and Naina followed her into the kitchen. The three of them brought the dishes out, and we all sat down to eat.

"All of us had our tea. The maid will make it for you; you can sit," Umma told Naina. I relaxed, relieved that my mother was being her thoughtful self again. But Naina seemed on edge.

She sat next to me, and I draped my arm around her chair.

"Ooooh!" Omar exclaimed, eyeing my arm.

"What?" I snarled, feeling defensive.

"Oh nothing," he said with a wink at Naina. This time, Naina didn't laugh; she just looked down at her plate, picking at her food.

"So, Akka, I was thinking we could go to Varkala today. It's just a one-hour drive, and we can do some water sports," Omar suggested.

I had initially planned to take her to the Jatayu Earth Center. I loved the ocean, but I didn't want to spend every day off lounging on the beach. However, when I looked at Naina, I saw her eyes sparkle with elation.

"Fine, we'll go. Do you have a swimsuit?" I asked her.

Omar cleared his throat, acting immature even by his standards. It was like he regressed to his teens whenever he was in our house.

"If you have shorts, I can wear them with a T-shirt," she suggested, and my heart swelled at the thought of her wearing my clothes.

"I should have a few sets of swim shorts here."

Soon we were headed to Varkala. Omar sat in the front with the driver, leaving Naina and me alone in the back seat. But Naina sat stiffly, not leaning against me like she had on the way to the zoo.

When we parked at Varkala Beach, we met our guide for the day.

"We have jet skiing, parasailing, and banana boat rides. We also provide kayaking through the mangroves, but it is dengue season, so we wouldn't recommend it," the tour guide explained.

"Let's jet ski!" Naina exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. I laughed at her excitement and nodded. "You heard the girl!"

I read through the pamphlet, noting the prices for each activity.

Jet Skiing: Rs 450 onwards; Parasailing: Rs 1000; Banana Boat ride: Rs 300 onwards.

We negotiated the price down to Rs 3000 for two jet skis and three parasailing sessions.

"Do you want to drive or sit in the back?" I asked Naina.

"Drive," she said confidently.

"Have you done this before?" I asked, surprised. I had lived an hour away my entire life but had never tried it. She inhaled sharply and nodded.

Note to self: Do not ask Naina if she had done any of the other activities before. She probably had— with him.

"But I've never driven the jet ski," she added.

"Okay, you drive, and I'll ride in the back," I said, trying to ease her nerves.

"We can switch in between if you want," she suggested, but I didn't feel great about switching mid-sea.

"Don't go more than two kilometers," the guide warned. Who in their right mind would do that?

We donned our life jackets, and I found myself about to say a dua for safety. I said the words aloud for Naina's benefit, hoping that some how listening to the prayer would shield her from harm too.

"Subhanal-ladhi sakh-khara lana hadha, wa ma kunna lahu muqrinin, wa inna ila Rabbina lamunqalibun."

To my surprise and relief, she repeated it after me.

I wrapped my arms around her waist as she started the jet ski slowly, moving away from the beach at around 10 km/hr.

"Do you feel like maybe we're too far in?" I asked her, glancing back to see the beach growing distant.

She laughed. "We're only about 50 meters in!"

"Okay, hold on tight!" she said as we ventured further from the beach. She accelerated, and I tightened my grip. Water sprayed over us as she rode the waves, her laughter ringing out in delight. At first it was but, but as the waves got rougher, a part of me wondered if this was a murder-suicide situation. I was a good swimmer, but the currents this far out were dangerous.

I glanced at the speed dial: 60 km/h. "Naina, slow down!" I urged.

The waves were growing stronger and bigger. Maybe she was having fun, but I wasn't anymore. Omar was nowhere in sight.

"Naina, slow down!" I repeated, my voice firmer. She gradually reduced the speed to about 30 km/h. Even at that, I felt like I might be thrown off the jet ski at any moment. Turning around, I saw the people at the beach looking like ants in the distance, and panic began to claw at my insides.

I didn't want to die.

"Turn around, Naina," I said, my voice steady but urgent.

"But it's only been 20 minutes! We have it for a whole hour," she argued.

"Turn around, Naina. This isn't safe."

"Advik rode at 100 km/hr when we were in Goa!" she countered.

I wanted to take the wheel, but switching places felt too risky with the waves so rough and us so far out.

"Turn. Around," I said through gritted teeth.

She didn't argue; instead, she turned the jet ski around and guided us back to shore at a safer 20 km/h. This felt good, I thought. I could enjoy this.

I wouldn't have minded the speed, if the sea were calmer. I didn't enjoy fearing for my life.

As we parked the jet ski at the dock and climbed off, Naina ignored me completely.

"Madam!" the tour guide called after her. "You went too far! The sea is rough, it's high tide. Didn't you realize when you went out?"

"You told us we could go 2 km into the sea," she replied defiantly.

I wiped my brow, feeling frustrated but not wanting someone else to scold my wife. I stepped in and stood next to her.

"Sir! We kept whistling to call you back. The tide changed after you went in. Didn't you hear the whistles?" the guide pressed.

"Sorry, we didn't hear them. It was loud. But we're okay. It won't happen again," I said.

We walked in silence, looking for our towels to dry off while we waited for Omar. We still had five minutes left for the hour to end.

I glanced at her; she had her arms folded, a defiant expression on her face. I didn't feel like talking to her. She had put both of us in danger.

Finally, Omar stepped out of his jet ski. "You freaked me out!" he said. "The way you sped off into the sea, I thought you'd both be goners."

He then turned to Naina, "You have a death wish?"

"Hey," I interjected, "lay off her."

Omar chuckled, "You were so bad in bed, she wanted to kill herself."

That was it. I stood in front of Omar, fists raised. "You want to fight me?" I asked, my tone challenging. When Omar got like this, he usually didn't back off until we had a good fist fight.

"Yes," Omar replied calmly, "but not here. Let's go parasailing now."

I looked at Naina again. She still hadn't said a word, and I wondered if she was going to stay grumpy throughout the trip. But I wasn't going to cheer her up this time. I was too angry with her to be able to be nice.

As I walked alongside her, my anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by concern. What if she really was feeling suicidal?

"Naina," I said softly, touching her forearm gently.

She looked at me, and all the defiance melted from her face. She looked so broken that I just wanted to gather her in my arms.

She shook her head, and since we were in public, I simply squeezed her hand. Tears began to splash down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she said, her voice trembling.

"Why... why did you do that?" I asked, my heart aching at the sight of her tears.

"I didn't know that that wasn't how it was done," she replied, her eyes pleading as they met mine.

"When I went to Goa with Adi, we rode the waves with the jet ski. The waves weren't as rough, but we went at 100 km/h," she explained. I searched her face, but she seemed to be saying the truth.

"I didn't know it was dangerous, really. I thought it was just adventurous. That it was supposed to feel thrilling and a little... scary," she admitted.

"Did you like it today?" I asked her, genuinely curious if I was just more risk-averse than she was. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I really did at first, but I got scared when the waves started getting rough. But I didn't stop 'coz we had committed to it..." Naina trailed off.

Now I was really confused. "Committed to it?"

She fell silent for a moment, as though contemplating what to say next. She opened her mouth, "I..." and then closed it again.

"Go on," I urged, noticing the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Let's just leave the past in the past," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I was curious, but I let it go for now. I took her hand in mine, wanting to provide her with some comfort.

We got into the boat and then into the parasail. The view was breathtaking. Varkala's cliffs rose dramatically close to the beach, making it different from most beaches in Kerala. There was an 80-meter drop from the cliff to the shore, and the black sands were said to have healing properties. The sands were black because of the thorium oxide they contained, which is radioactive, so I wasn't entirely convinced about the health benefits.

Once we finished parasailing, we wrapped towels around ourselves and headed toward Varkala Cliff. The cliff was lined with numerous shops and restaurants, offering a stunning view of the ocean from above.

On our way to the restaurants, a store caught Naina's eye. "Can you get this for me?" she asked, pointing to a beach dress.

If I bought the dress for her, I knew my mother would likely judge Naina for it. She had always been traditional in her views, and a sleeveless dress with a deep neckline would probably raise more than a few eyebrows in our household. Yet, it also didn't seem right to refuse her, knowing she couldn't possibly afford it otherwise.

I paused.

**********************************************

Thank you for reading.

Remember that you are amazing, and there is a reason for everything. You are going to be okay.
❤️Faiza