Page 150 of The Circle of Exile
Iram smiled. If she could reflect a single percent of Atharva’s lessons here, she knew she would have a good book on her hands. His thought made her reach for her phone again.
No response. Maybe he had gone to sleep. She set her phone leaning on her laptop screen and set her fingers to the keys. Atharva’s chat was open. Nothing. She poised her fingers over the keyboard, ready to write. Nothing came. Her mind wasn’t ready to switch gears. How had Atharva managed to work and take care of Yathaarth while she was missing? How had he held everything together without letting anybody get a whiff of the reality?
Guilt began to nag her again. She pushed it away and started a sentence. Backspaced. Nothing. Neither on Atharva’s chat, nor on her doc.
If push came to shove, what was the worst that could happen? Was his position in danger? What was the worst-case scenario?Wait. Was this… treason?Her chest felt cold.No, no, no.The panic that she had tied and held back began to whirr.
ATHARVA
Why are you awake so late?
Her heart skipped a beat. Iram abandoned her laptop and plucked her phone.
IRAM
Can I call?
He read the message and her phone lit up with his call. She swiped it to answer, opened her mouth to ask him if he was in danger of treason, and stopped. What was she doing? Throwing him into a tailspin worrying about her?
Iram took a deep breath, then let it out. And pasted a smile on her face.
“Stop panicking,” his heavy, hoarse croak sounded. It was amused. Slightly better than the solemn voice of last night.
“I was not panicking.”
“What were you doing then?”
Iram grinned, unable to hold her blush even after all these years of marriage, two babies and a situation where a mountain had exploded on their heads.
“Planning tomorrow’s menu.”
“At 4.45 in the morning?”
“My pillow feels too hot to sleep.”
He let out a laugh, rich and rough. Like he was in that place between lots of calls and a momentary reprieve.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to sleep.”
“Come home then.”
“I sent part of the convoy home last night. Only Altaf and a few of his men are here. They will have to call everybody back just to ferry me home. I’ll come by 8,” he yawned.
“And leave again?”
“It’s a workday,” he pointed. “What’s the menu?”
Iram opened her mouth to berate him for taking this so easy when she realised two things — one, she couldn't talk about most things she wanted to ask him over this call, and two — he needed a break.
“Leftover rajma rolled into a breakfast burrito.”
“That sounds… interesting. This one thing I love about you since Arth’s birth.”
“What thing?”
“You have taken to the kitchen with a vengeance. I think I have put on a good five kgs since.”
