“Oh god,” I exhale as I take steady steps towards her. The pinklehengalooks so good on her tanned skin, her hair is in its natural wavy state, and her waist…is tempting.
Aisha doesn’t look back when I stand behind her, busy talking to some guy I don’t know that I am assuming is Aarav’s friend, and I really don’t like the way he is looking at her. He says something, and she throws her head back laughing, and while I have always loved seeing her like this, envy like I have never felt before fills my chest.
I sneak my hands to her waist, not able to resist anymore, and she gasps, her elbow hitting my stomach in defense, and just because I have been through one of her “self-defense” nudges more than a few times, I taut my stomach so it doesn’t hurt me.
“Hi, baby,” I say, and her face relaxes, and I just bring her closer to my chest. The amount of relief this fills me with can never be described. I have never felt as much at peace as I do when she is in my arms.
It makes me feel closer to heaven.
“Hi,” she says, a little breathless, and I smile. Aarav rolls his eyes at me, knowing fully well why I pulled her towards me all of a sudden.
“You are late,” Aarav says what I was expecting Aisha to say, and I give him a look. Is he my wife?
“I said I had some work,” I say. He is a prick for doing this right now while knowing fully well why I was late.
He just loves seeing me getting thrashed—verbally or physically—by my wife.
“It’s okay,” Aisha says, pulling my hands away from her waist, and I realize that she is, in fact, mad at me. God, I truly hate when I make her mad, but I also know no better ways to surprise her or keep my mouth shut.
“I want to show you something, Aisha,” I say, trying to save my ass in whatever way I can. Maybe she won’t be as mad if she knows I just made an excuse to surprise her.
Maybe?
God, I have never been scared of anyone as much as I am of her. Her being mad at me, her not speaking to me, her leaving me—all of these things give me cold feet.
“Meri jaan,” I start when Aarav’s friend—who not only didn’t care to introduce himself but also interrupted me—speaks up.
“There she is,” he elbows Aarav, who scowls at him.
“That is the girl Aarav is obsessed with,” Aisha says, her mouth wide open, and I follow her line of sight.
A woman who is shorter than Aisha in height and has shoulder-length hair walks towards us.
She is the one he is obsessed with? Why did I, as his best friend, not know about this first?
I am offended.
“I am not obsessed with her,” Aarav says, shrugging, but I can tell a man is obsessed when I see one. The way he straightens himself up, his biceps flexing through hiskurtasleeve, says everything. He wants to look good in front of her, and only a man that cares does all of that.
I know because I have been there.
“She is beautiful,” Aisha says. “No wonder she can’t stand you, Aarav.”
“Thanks, Aisha,” he deadpans. “I love you too.”
She laughs, and I smile. “I am just saying that women who look like that actually know their worth, so surely she won’t be nice to you if you act as a dick towards her.”
“I agree,” I add. I agree with whatever my wife says. “Though I am a bit offended that you didn’t tell me you liked her before.”
“I don’t like her,” he says, and I can see how much he dislikes her. “I only said that we have been competing over brand deals for over a year. That’s it.”
“Yes,” she says. “And that’s why you know what she likes and doesn’t like, her favorite colors, her favorite places, what suits her, and everything. He is right, Raj. He doesn’t like her.”
So, this fucker’s name is Raj.
“Hi, Raj,” says the woman who is the center of Aarav’s world, and for someone who doesn’t like her, his eyes light up as if she is the only one he can see.
I know that look all too well. That’s exactly who I become when I see my wife.
