Page 41 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“A minute,” Mihir answered as I scrambled toward the bathroom.

“Clothes,” he mouthed, and I scurried to gather my lingerie and robe, then closed the door behind me.

Muffled sounds filtered into the bathroom. I dressed swiftly before I heard the door close.

“He’s gone,” Mihir said, seated at the edge of the bed in his sweats when I emerged. “He’d come to wake me up. We need to leave soon.”

His smile, cautious, was different from the bright, uninhibited one from last night. Regret, maybe? Though it had come sooner than I expected.

It was only sex, I repeated to myself, but the awkwardness was in keeping with an impetuous encounter like the one we’d had last night. What was I thinking?

I rushed toward the door. “I’ll try and sneak into my room,” I said.

He stood swiftly and grabbed my wrist. “Hey, I’m not going to kiss you with my gross morning mouth, but I want to see you again.”

I turned in his grip and looked into his dark eyes.

“And next time, I want to hear you scream my name,” he rumbled deeply. A quick shiver ran through me, and he let go of my arm with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “We should talk before you leave.”

At those words, the weight of my departure washed up on me like a landslide. I’d had a wonderful weekend, but ahead of me lay a terribly busy, if a bit lonely, life in New York.

I slipped out of the room, not bothering to check if I was spotted. A quick shower later, I walked down the stairs with my bag. Like me, Mihir was dressed in jeans and lugging his parents’ bags out the door.

“Sona, why don’t you ride with us?” his mother said. “That will give us more time to chat. Mihir can drop you back later.”

My heart thudded, and inadvertently, I looked at Tara.

“Sure,” she smiled back, and I nodded at Sneha aunty.

When Mihir came back in, his mom said, “Sona’s coming with us. Take her bag.” Mihir’s eyebrows jerked slightly, but he grabbed my suitcase from where I had left it and stepped outside.

Before we left, Tara took me aside and spoke in Marathi. “It’s actually for the best that you are going to Sneha aunty’s. Juhi will be back, and I suspect she’s planning to rake up more trouble. Something happened last night. I heard Sameer and his parents arguing in whispers. I regret inviting you over this weekend when I had so little time to give you. If I had known Juhi was coming, I would’ve planned better. In fact, I would’ve planned to come visit you instead.”

“Don’t worry, ga,” I said to her. “My flight is late afternoon. Maybe I’ll just slip off to the airport from there.”

She tried to resist, but my insistence wasn’t selfless. My sinister motive was to spend more time with Mihir, preferably naked.

“Mihir, I’m holding you to seeing her to the airport on time,” Tara said to him as we stepped out to the cars.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Tara said and placed a kiss on my cheek.

I gave her a tight hug and promised myself to make up for my selfishness too. This weekend had been one of debauchery and giving in to my baser instincts. Hopefully, I would return to my city a new woman, happy, contented, and satisfied. Sometimes, even good girls needed a weekend off from being upright and responsible. The universe had handed me mine, and I had grabbed it with both hands.

As is often the case, when one gives in to their base instincts, the rational brain takes a hike. I was so consumed with the thought of spending time with Mihir that it never occurred to me that we could be at risk of being exposed.

Sneha aunty had certainly taken a liking to me. What if she had ulterior motives for inviting me into her home? It wasn’t unheard of for meddling mothers to take matters into their own hands, or worse, interfere in their children’s affairs—literally. I had first-hand experience of the latter. What if she thought I was unworthy of her son too?

My jangly nerves calmed down soon enough, because Mihir’s parents were pleasant and endearing. With brilliance and wit, they talked about Texas, told me the places to visit, and asked me about my work.

“There is so much I’ve missed out on,” Aunty said. “We were still in the league of early feminists when I worked in India.”

“Your generation laid the foundation for much of what we do today,” I reassured her.

“It is so good to talk to you, Sona. You remind me of Rajni, my best friend in college. We used to march at rallies and participate in debates and protests at a time when our words had little social worth.” She heaved a big sigh, and her husband turned in his seat to look back at her.

“I’m alright,” she said to him, then turned to me. “He worries about me because he knows how much I loved Rajni. She got married early to the wrong man. She passed away years ago, unhappy and unfulfilled.”

“I’m sorry, Aunty,” I said, and she patted my hand.

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