Page 134 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Good. Aunty worries about you.”

“Thank you for calling and talking to her, Sona. I know it means a lot to her. And you’re right, she does love you.”

Unlike you, who has already moved on, I thought.

“I want to bring her something,” he said.

“Aunty?”

“No, my Aai. What can I get her? Would a saree be a good gift?”

I nodded. “Saree is often a mark of respect. So it can be personal but not imposing, you know?”

“Will you help me pick one out?”

“Why? What happened to your current shopping partners? Why don’t you take them?” I meant to tease him, but the words that came out were spitefully bitter.

Only, he grinned. “Hey, you are the one who’s been grouchy. I told you I want you back. But if it’s not what you want, I respect that. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try my hand at finding happiness.”

My mouth gaped. He was right. What had I expected when I refused to have him back in my life again? That he would whine and pine for a lifetime?

“So, buckle up, Thomas, and be happy for me.” That rascal!

“After you broke my heart that way? Never. I’ll never give you that satisfaction.”

I grumbled. He grinned. I growled. He smirked. We continued this stalemate until I heaved in resignation.

“Alright, you win. You always win, don’t you?”

He pushed his hands in his pockets with his usual nonchalance and left. Just left.

Resisting the strong urge to curl into a ball and cry, I redirected the angry energies to my work. It was a good thing I’d found out just how little I meant to him. He was ready to move on right before my eyes. Why had I imagined it would be any different?

When I came out of my room the next morning, the home was gently waking up. Appa was in the kitchen, making tea. Aai emerged from inside and picked up the newspaper just as Mihir emerged from the guest room.

I frowned. “Are you still here?”

“Good morning to you too,” he said, walking away smugly.

I went into my room, showered, and came back out in lounging clothes with damp hair.

Aai placed a cup of tea before me. “Can you make coffee for Mihir?” she said.

I scanned my surroundings to make sure neither Aai nor Appa were within earshot. “You’re encroaching on this place like your own. Make your own fricking coffee.”

“Now, now, that’s no language for a good girl.”

“I’m not one,” I growled.

He leaned in. “You were once. My good girl,” he whispered before he pushed off his chair with a smirk and turned on the machine.

I broke into a tiny bit of sweat at his words as my thighs clenched and my nipples puckered.

Then he sat across from me at the table, sipping his coffee, holding a smug grin.

After breakfast, we went to Aai’s favorite saree shop. Apparently, Mihir had invited her to join us, and though I neither wore sarees nor knew much about them, he insisted on dragging me along.

“Have you told her who it’s for?” I whispered as we entered the shop. “I haven’t said a word about the whole adopted-at-birth thing.”

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