Page 131 of The Defiant Wife

"Now keep your left foot steady and release the clutch slowly." His voice is calm and patient. "If you rush it, the engine will stall."

Then his lips curve into another teasing smile.

"And if my student refuses to follow instructions . . . I may have to reward myself with a very public display of affection."

My face instantly heats up.

"Veeraj!" I gasp, tightening my grip on the handlebars."There are three palace guards standing at the gate."

I shake my head, trying to ignore how close he is."You are using a riding lesson to flirt with your own wife.Please focus on teaching me before I accidentally drive this thing into the fountain."

"My attention is exactly where it should be, my wife" he replies, his voice warm with laughter.

When I glare at him, he covers up, "My wife is learning something new. I'd say that's worth my complete focus."He gently helps me balance the weight of the Enfield as we slowly begin rolling across the courtyard.

"Easy," he says.

"Don't fight the bike."

"Let it move with you."

His hands remain steady over mine, guiding me without ever making me feel nervous."I've got you."

Those three simple words settle something inside me.

The fear disappears.

We ride slowly across the packed earth, and I realize I'm smiling without even noticing.

His quiet laugh reaches my ears as he presses a soft kiss against the top of my head.

For a moment, I completely forget about the gears, the clutch, and every lesson he has been trying to teach me. Because as long as his hands are there to keep me steady . . . I know I'll never lose my balance.

56. B’DAY

DIYA

The main hall of the NGO is louder than it has ever been.

Handmade paper streamers hang from the ceiling fans, children run from one corner to another, and the sweet smell of fresh marigolds and hot jalebis fills the warm afternoon air.

I stand in the middle of it all wearing a slightly crooked cardboard crown that keeps slipping over my hair.

For a second, I simply stare.

My chest feels so full that it almost hurts.

Birthdays have never looked like this.

Growing up, they were just another date on a calendar. Papa never remembered them, and at the orphanage, birthdays usually meant an extra banana or a sweet if the donations had been good that month.

That was enough.

Or at least . . . I had convinced myself it was.

But today . . . Today, people actually remembered.Today, they celebrate me.

A lump rises in my throat so quickly that I have to blink back tears.