Page 258 of The Circle of Exile
Yathaarth made a beeline out of the bathroom and Atharva grabbed her wrist — “New rule, huh?”
“My house, my kitchen, my rules,” she slipped her hands around his back and clasped tight. “And apparently, my orders too.”
“What orders?”
“Your shaving schedule.”
He snorted.
“You used to ask me to keep a stubble all the time,” he rubbed his cheek over hers, making her hiss.
“You applied your aftershave on Arth?!” She reared back.
“It was your attar,” he kissed her. She narrowed her eyes at him — “That’s what I smelled… Now I’ll have to store it somewhere out of his reach. This stock is running out. When you talk to Noora, ask him to bring…”
“That won’t be needed. You will be able to buy it yourself soon.”
“Atharva…”
“Myani zuv,” he held her gaze. “I know you have been my glass half full throughout this testing time. But now I need to be glass-half-full, for both of us. For all of us. Today will be our first step back home. Let’s believe in that.”
She bit her lip, nodding. Then her eyes widened — “Oh no! I forgot in all your yapping. Vikram has been calling you nonstop. You didn’t pick up, so he called me.”
Atharva let go of her and strode out of the bathroom. His mobile was nowhere to be found.
“Arth!” He yelled.
“It’s not downstairs. He didn’t take it.”
Atharva went through his bedside table, drawers, glancing at the clock. 8.55 am. The result would start to drop in five minutes. His ringtone began to blare from inside his cupboard. Atharva threw open the door and there it was, in the bottom-most shelf where only one pair of hands could reach. It was laid atop a stack of clothes, the charger connected to it and jammed between two piles on the side. Iram burst out laughing.
“Not funny,” he unplugged the mobile from the charger and toggled to answer.
“But your son does know creative places to charge your mobile…”
“Vikram.”
“Bhaiya, trends are coming in,” he was panting. “High chance Janta is eating into KDP’s share.”
“Where?”
“Five South Kashmir seats, your Akhnoor seat and Leh.”
“Vote share?”
“High margins in Kashmir, 20-30%. Akhnoor is double the margin.”
“I expected Akhnoor,” Atharva picked up a shirt. “Relax now. Everything is done. We did all that we could. Wait for the results.”
Atharva ended the call and turned to Iram. She stood still, her lip between her teeth.
“Relax, Iram. As I told Vikram, wait for the results.”
“You are always so calm! The rest of us are humans.”
“Ok,” he slipped an arm into his shirt — “I have my clothes on. Give me my food now.”
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