“When?”
“Dates are not finalised yet, but sometime this Christmas. Probably for two weeks if I can manage.”
“The question is, will the government manage?”
“I will, of course, be working…”
“You should not.” He turned solemn, glancing at her at a red signal. “When was the last time you took a break?”
“Can’t remember.”
“Then take it. Atharva will be ok without you for two weeks.”
“Atharva needs to be kept in line or he goes rogue.” She rolled her eyes. “Just today we sealed Iram’s major public debacle. And then CM sahab went home halfway through his engagements because who knows what happened, and refused to come back. He has been so distracted lately.”
“Hmm.” He turned into a familiar locality.
“Here?” Amaal gaped, bending to soak in the street. It was still the same, just prettier, a little brighter, cleaner thanks to CM sahab’s cleanliness drives, and wider after his new road-widening campaign across the residential stretches of Srinagar.
Samar stopped the car outside 256, Nehru Nagar.
“Are you serious?” She turned to him.
“Second floor,” he said. “Flat number 6.”
Amaal was out of the car and bounding into the building and up the stairs. It had been close to five years since she had last been here. She noticed the inside was still the same, the wood banister a little more worn, a few steps chipped here and there. But the stairs were just as shiny clean as before, the homes looking just as homely as when she had first come here to look for a rental space.
She reached the door of her old flat just in time for him to turn the last stair.
“Quick, quick!”
Samar inserted the key into the screen door and turned the lock. He began to search for the second main door key in the keyring but she took it from his hands and inserted the correct one. She could do it blind.
“I am so excited you are shifting here!” She pushed open the door and breathed in the smell of stale home. Closed rooms. Spider webs. Dust. The possibility of everything.
“I love this smell.”
“You must be crazy to like a smell that makes most people sneeze,” he scoffed behind her, closing the door as she went on flipping light switches. The paint in the house was different now. It had been blinding white when she had lived here, now it was a warm beige. The lights were updated, too, from panel lights to fancy, warm COBs.
“What did the owner do to this flat?!” She gawked, running her hand over the velvety finished wall.
“They also doubled the rent.” Samar pushed the lone chair aside, its legs scraping against the floor as they entered the hall.
“Of course they would. They have done interior work, Nehru Nagar has become even more premium and there is this party called KDP that came in power a couple of years ago and changed the entire trajectory of real estate in the city… owww!” She shrieked as the lights went out and a hand pressed her back into his chest.
“Samar.” She huffed, trying to catch her breath.
“You like it?” He asked.
“Love it. You haven’t seen the best part of this house though…” She pulled him towards the windows, navigating the bare hall in the low lighting from outside, and was bummed to find that some buildings had come up to block a smidge of the view. But the mountains were still as tall and as grand in the distance. “Ta-da!” She held an arm out.
Tiny lights winked in the distance, flats too far away to be fully visible.
His mouth dipped into her neck and his hand traced up her arm. Amaal’s head fell back into his shoulder, eyes closing. The world went darker with bright points of lights sparkling behind them.
“We are standing on a window.” She managed through laboured breaths.
“In pitch dark.” His dark voice broke through her darkness. Before she could respond, he snapped her around and slammed his mouth down on hers. She inhaled him, all of him — his tongue, his taste, his darkness. He suckled her mouth and let her go. Amaal opened her eyes, feeling his presence on her lips long after he had left them. She scraped her hands up his shoulders, up his neck, up his stubbled cheeks, hitting the ends of his specs.
