Page 100 of The Defiant Wife

She rolls her eyes but starts opening the tiffin anyway.The moment the lids come off, the room fills with the smell of curry leaves, mustard seeds, and freshly roasted spices.

I look down in surprise. "Mysore masala dosa.And medu vada."

I glance back at her."You made all this?"

She nods. We sit on the sofa and eat together.

For a while, neither of us says much.

The only sounds are the quiet clink of steel spoons and the occasional comment about the chutney.

I take another bite before looking at her."This is really good, Diya."

She smiles shyly.

"My favourite happens to be dosa." I squint my eyes at her,"How did you know that?"

She looks down at her plate."I asked Sitara."There's a small pause before she adds quietly,"I realized . . . I don't actually know much about you."

The words aren't dramatic.They're honest.She traces circles on the edge of her plate with her spoon."I didn't like that."

Something tightens in my chest.I set my spoon down."Does it really bother you . . . not knowing about me?"

She nods."A little." My hearts skips a beat asI watch her for a long moment.

Maybe she's right.We know the big things about each other.The painful things too.But not the ordinary ones.

Not favourite foods. Favourite places. The little details that slowly become home.An idea forms before I can talk myself out of it."Then let's fix that."

She looks up. "How?"

I meet her eyes."We'll go on a date."

Silence.

Her spoon slips from her fingers and lands back inside the tiffin with a soft clink. She simply stares at me. Looking completely, beautifully surprised. And for the first time in a long while . . . The idea of tomorrow excites me more than my work ever could.

36. THE AGENDA OF HEART

VEERAJ

The glass pavilion at the edge of the palace's old hunting lodge is tucked away between huge banyan trees. It feels peaceful, far from the palace and all its rules. A few copper lanterns cast a warm glow over the small table set for two.

I've attended hundreds of royal dinners in my life.None of them make me as nervous as sitting across from my wife. Because this time, I genuinely want to be here. Afterall I am the one who suggested this date.

Diya's in dark blue jeans and an emerald-green silk top. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, and the green makes her eyes stand out in the lantern light. The pale patches of vitiligo on her wrists aren't hidden at all.

She's beautiful.Comfortably, effortlessly beautiful.I probably stare a second too long before I notice she's completely focused on her phone.

Her eyebrows are pulled together in concentration as she scrolls through something and keeps tilting the screen away whenever I try to peek.

I lean back in my chair.

"Should I be worried?" I ask. "Is that our dinner menu or an interrogation file?"

She doesn't even look guilty."It's an agenda."

"An . . . agenda?"