Page 52 of The Ex Factor

“Something that will help make this a home, I hope,” he said with a smile. “Where do you want your bags?”

“In the bedroom, please,” I said, rolling a bag toward it as he followed me with the second roller, and it was already starting to feel like home.

When I returned to the living room, having put away my bags, I spotted a large item placed on one of the consoles by the wall. It was surreptitiously covered with a large velvet cloth.

“Do I dare ask?” I said with wide eyes.

“Of course you can. It’s a surprise.”

My heart grappled with an unrecognizable emotion. Joy? Yes, but it seemed laced with a sorrow of some kind. The kind I couldn’t figure out.

“Let me show you the place first,” I offered, and he followed me.

After a quick tour of the apartment, during the entirety of which he complimented me on the choice of floor, paint, and furniture, we returned to the living room.

He took a seat on the couch and pulled the holdall onto his lap.

“Now,” he said before opening it, “this is something I’ve seen in my family, and you can absolutely say no. We put rice and milk over the stove and let it overflow. It’s said to bring happiness and prosperity,” he said and unzipped the holdall. Out came a small container of raw rice, a tetra pack of milk, and a small saucepan.

An entire gamut of feelings ran through me. My wise mother was right. This was exactly the kind of innocuous thing that would stay with me through my life, lending hope in times of sadness.

“I would love that. Would you do it for me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said.

I followed him into the kitchen, where he poured the milk into the pan, added a handful of rice, and turned on the stove. In a few minutes, the milk boiled and ran over the rim of the saucepan. He let it boil over for a few seconds, then turned off the stove.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean the stove for you later,” he teased as I kept staring at the milk on the stove.

I wasn’t worried about the condition of my kitchen counter. What worried me at that moment was the condition of my heart. How was I ever going to get over this man? Why did he have to be unattainable? What would it be like to break all rules and throw myself into his arms?

“You can pray if you want,” he said. “My mother does other things, but I don’t know any of them. This is the only thing I remember.”

Over the years I’d witnessed all kinds of rituals and traditions. Preferences for south-facing homes, not south-facing homes, east-facing windows, no huge trees in certain parts of the yard. From Vaastushastra and Feng Shui to carrying salt or water into the house, I knew most customs, but I never thought I’d be partaking in one with a man I was beginning to really like.

“Now,” he said and moved toward the living room again. “I have something for you. A little housewarming gift to make this house a home.”

He directed me to the large item on the console, and I pulled the velvet off, squinting with one eye as if it were a bomb that would go off.

He laughed wholeheartedly, throwing his head back, eyes closed, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. Peering over the rim of his glasses, which made my heart thud and clamber, he watched me as I stood speechless by his gift.

It was his cousin Padmaja’s sculpture, the one I’d admired at the gallery.

“Oh, Sujit, this is beautiful!” I quickly discarded the velvet in my hand and grazed my fingers along the artwork, admiring it for the prized jewel that it was.

“I’m glad you like it, or I would’ve felt like a fool buying it for you.”

“You bought it for me?” I turned to him.

“Yes, you said such beautiful words about it. It belongs with you, as Padmaja would’ve declared.”

Overwhelmed, I stepped closer to him and asked, “Is it alright if I give you a hug?”

AARTI

Agentle scent of spice and sandalwood rose from the warm skin at his neck as he pulled his arms around me. I sniffed a quick breath and basked in his embrace. I felt his hand move up my back, and my nipples hardened against his firm chest. When his cheek brushed against mine, I yearned for the touch of his lips on my skin. I lifted my head to look at him and thought I spied raw desire in his eyes before he cleared his throat and smiled.

“I’m glad you like it,” he repeated, a cue for me to regain self-respect and move out of his arms.

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