“I resemble your muses for this collection.”
His head fell on her shoulder. Nilay groaned. “How did you get your degrees, Doctor?”
She fell forward, laughing, arms falling. He caught her in time, this time his hands anchoring on her waist and pulling her back. Her breath hitched.
“This is beautiful,” he commanded, looking at her through the mirror. “Those are beautiful,” he nudged his chin at the paintings. “And now I will think you are an idiot if you still don’t get it.”
“I am an idiot?”
“You are.”
Her face was glorious, red, suffused with the kind of chagrin and pride he hadn’t seen in his life. Her eyes were innocent, a child’s eyes, shaped like they were meant to mesmerise. Brown. Light brown irises. When she smiled, that slow smile which bloomed slowly made him feel like he was earning every second of it. When she looked at him, and did not look away, she made him feel every dime of his self-worth mattered. She did not know yet what she was. Or she just didn't want to know it yet.
“Your face is so pretty that men could go to war for it,” he murmured to her. “If you smile slowly at a man, he would lose that war for you.”
She swallowed, her eyes wary, but not mistrusting of him. He would count that as his win.
“I have met many men and none have said that. Is it because you are biased?” She tried to smile, make light of it.
“Or is it because you never gave them a chance to say it?”
Her smile froze.
“Is it because you interpreted every man’s interest in you as negative due to your first experience? And with me, you went with the flow because that is how sure you were that nothing would happen?”
Her eyes blinked, bravely staring into his.
“I am a lucky man that you wrote me off at first glance and let your guard down.” He nuzzled her temple. “But I feel like it’s my personal shortcoming if I cannot show you what I see.”
Her gaze lowered.
“You are a woman beyond compare, Ritu.”
“I know it,” she raised her eyes at him in the mirror.
“Your body is so attractive, I am unable to look at anything else when you are in the room.”
“I know now.”
“Good.”
“But people like you don’t make it easy on people like me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your models are stick figures. How am I to ever compete with that? Maya had to call for one size bigger than the standard three sizes even when you customise your clothes. That would make any girl feel a little down. Imagine somebody far less confident than me. What would they… where are you going?”
He had already padded to his wardrobe and slid open the door. The first piece there, it gleamed. He pulled it out.
“Try this on.” He held it out to her. She frowned.
“Go on, there’s a restroom there.”
“Are you serious? What is this?”
He held the pieces up one by one — “Ghaghra, choli, dupatta.”
“I know that!” She snapped, snatching the hangers from him. Nilay stood back and watched as she set her phone down and walked inside the restroom. What had he done to deserve such trust from a woman who did not trust many? He smiled, cleaning up the lounger, putting cushions in place, capping the open bottle of water. This space did not see much cleaning except from his own hands. Which was rare.
