Her mouth opened in a laugh.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I am not!” She was laughing. “Rookie.”
“You wouldn’t know if I hadn’t told you,” he grunted.
She laughed louder, eyeing the buttons of his shirt. He covered them with his palm — “Stop staring!”
“Just checking if you didthemright at least,” she was sputtering, moving around, the ghaghra swishing like the earth itself dancing in the rain, even if a little wonky. Nilay stared, feeling a smile form on his mouth, seeing her so happy ragging him. She found herself in front of his mirror again and her eyes got fixated on herself. Her head cocked to the side. Her amusement melted into a soft frown and her face brightened.
“Nilay, even if your nicks are not matched, this is more beautiful than the blue one I wore on Sunday.”
“Wait till the nicks align and then it’ll fit even better.”
“This fits me like a glove already! It’s… why is it fitting me so perfectly?”
“You are wearing the showstopper from my next collection.”
“What?!” She whirled.
He nodded.
“Are you crazy? What if it tears or something?” She began to take the dupatta off her shoulder.
“It’s a toile, a master sample. The ensemble will be built on this.”
“Your master sample is likethis…? Then what’s the real thing like?” She turned from side to side. “Wait.” She froze. “Why is your master sample in my size?”
“I sewed it like that.”
“For a model who would be my size.” She was purposefully acting dense, trying to get out of this.
“For you.”
She swallowed.
“Nilay.”
“I started creating it the week after I met you.”
Her eyes fell shut. He reached out and cupped her face in his hands, raised it to him. Her eyes were still closed.
“Don’t even try it,” she said.
“What?”
“Staring at me.”
He laughed. “No PVRs around here.”
And this time, her mouth curled. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, unable to help himself. Her skin stretched in a smile under his mouth. And he kissed the spot again, letting his lips linger there quietly.
“You wanted to show me this?” She pulled back, a naughty grin on her face.
“Thiswas completely unexpected,” he eyed her cheek. “As was this,” he righted the sleeve of her blouse. “It’s still incomplete, as you can see. And apparently faulty too. The fabric will change, the construction will change. I have to send it to my workshop at Saharanpur for zardozi work. All these flowers and this butterfly will come to life in gold. This is just the pattern. But seeing you here, looking at yourself like how I see you, I couldn’t resist.”
“You are impressi…”
