“Did you get me something to drink?”
“Yes,” she walked back and grabbed their glasses, scooping his phone between her fingers. “Your mobile was going off.”
He frowned, wiping the sweat off his brow. He thought for a second — possibly of his commitments for the day. They were far and few. KDP was keeping him on the lowdown for now, especially with the media interest that was nowhere close to dying down. Qureshi had sworn in one week ago. It had been a closed-door ceremony where Atharva had been present among very few dignitaries. She had been invited but Iram had chosen to stay back. Sarah was awkward over the phone and Iram knew she was clueless about her husband’s long-winded plans. Even if she wasn’t, Iram wasn’t as level-minded as Atharva to stand in the same room as a snake of his own closest circle and see his own coup result in his crowning.
Iram saw Atharva now, dumping his tools to the side and dusting his hands off the sawdust. In an old T-shirt and tracks, building his son a treehouse under their Chinar, he had sat on the CM’s chair only a few days ago.
“Iram!” He held his hand out and she snapped out of her thought, striding to him and depositing his phone in his hand. He switched it to his other hand and held his hand out for his drink. She passed him the Glucon-D and watched him sip, not a care for his mobile.
“Where is Arth?”
“Sieving flour with Shiva.”
Grey eyes bugged over the rim of his glass. He stopped drinking.
“Our Shiva?”
“Yes,” she widened her eyes. “Two bowls of flour have already been upturned. Half a kg of flour has been licked clean. And Shiva has not scowled even once.”
“Who would have thought?” He drained his glass and swiped the back of his arm across his mouth.
“Atharva, your phone was seriously blowing up. Check it.”
“I’ll check,” he took a long, deep breath, taking in the last of the cool air left in his mouth from the drink.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Just ask, don’t make me balk with these pre-questions.”
“Do I look fat?”
His face twisted, baffled.
“Hmm?” She raised her brows, pushing her face closer to his.
It took him a good few seconds. But he caught her teasing. He was getting better at picking up the signs after all these years of marriage.
“You have put on a healthy amount of weight and I like it. Now ask your real question.”
She didn’t want to blush. Who blushed at words like those from a man you basically lived with 24X7? But her face suffused with heat. He smirked.
“I was asking,” she gathered herself. “Why are you so laid back? This entire week, you have been nothing but calm and patient. And it’s not an act.”
He smiled.
“I thought it was, at first. But now I know it’s not. What are you thinking, Atharva?”
“I am thinking that I should make the most of this break to finish Arth’s treehouse.”
“Serious. For one minute, serious, Atharva.”
He sighed, solemn — “My hands are tied so tight right now, myani zuv, that there is no room for manoeuvre. I go outside and there is media waiting. I go to an inquiry or hearing and the same questions are repeated. I can’t even switch to autopilot because then something I don’t want might slip out of my mouth. KDP wants to keep its distance from me until Qureshi stabilises, and rightly so. What is there to do but keep calm?”
“Are you… content for now?”
“Can’t you see?” He waved around them. Iram smiled — “You look content.”
“And have I ever pretended in front of you?”
