Page 58 of The Circle of Exile
He whimpered and tried to push back, his lips rooting but not latching onto her breast. Atharva’s hand left hers and she glanced up “What happened? Don’t go…”
But he was unbuttoning his shirt, getting his cufflinks off. Iram stared dry-mouthed as he stripped it off and climbed on the bed beside her. The back of her bare arm met his chest as he slowly pushed half behind her, his arm going around Yathaarth and pulling him closer into the circle he created.
“Come on, Dilbaro. Mama is waiting to feed you, aren’t you hungry?” He talked to their son about her with such tenderness. Iram drank back tears of elation and pushed her breast forward. This time, Atharva reached for the side of her breast and held it steady, caressing Yathaarth’s head and guiding him to latch. His tiny rosebud mouth opened and closed over her nipple. He sucked. Strong and hard.
“Ow,” she jerked.
“It hurt?” Atharva’s hand ran circles on her back. She shook her head, biting her lip between her teeth as the momentary pain rolled. He sucked again and she felt the twinge. But it was bearable now because she was prepared. And he was sucking again. He popped it out for a breath, then gaped at her. She smiled. “Are you hungry?” She asked softly. “You are such a big boy, the biggest boy.Mybig boy. So strong. Just like Baba,” she pushed his head to her breast, now confident in holding him under one arm and using the other to manoeuvre him because Atharva held them both in the circle of his arms.
“There,” she encouraged quietly as he suckled. Not sucked but suckled, the sounds of his gulping — the best music of her life. “Oooh, there. My smart Arth… look, he is so good, Atharva.”
“I know,” he declared proudly.
“Does he suckle his bottle this hard?”
“How would I know? I don’t feel his bottle-sucking.”
Iram burst out laughing. Yathaarth’s mouth dislodged and he gave out a piercing cry.
“Aaah,” she chuckled, cupping his head and pulling him back. “I’m sorry, Janab.”
“Janab?”
Her head whirled to Atharva and he was so close. His nose was within touching distance of hers. His eyes were piercing into hers. Her mouth dropped open — “Janab as in… junior Janab.”
Grey eyes blinked. Amused or tender or something else? She couldn't decipher. Why couldn't she read him anymore?
With a pop, their son released her breast and lay back in the crook of her elbow, happily staring up at the ceiling, smacking his lips.
“That’s it?” Iram asked. “But I have more.”
A snort from beside her made her sit up.
“He had a bottle already an hour ago. This is his sleeping milk. He hardly tastes it… isn’t it, Dilbaro?” Atharva tickled his chin and lifted him up and over his shoulder. Iram stared as he rubbed three light circles on his back, then gave it a few firm pats. A gassy burp later, he was asleep.
“Just like that?” Her eyes widened.
Atharva smirked proudly — “He goes to sleep like me.”
“One moment there and then gone.”
His body tautened. Iram felt the bubble cocooning all of them burst as Atharva pulled out of the bed and padded to the cot at the foot of the bed. He laid their son in there, dressed him quickly in a onesie and pulled a sheet over his tiny body. He went to his cupboard and pulled on a clean night T-shirt over his day-old pants. He then went behind the cot and began to wheel it.
“Where are you taking him?”
“I am going down to work. I’ll leave him with Begumjaan across in case he cries and wakes up.”
Iram sat up as if struck. She stared fixedly as he slowly pulled their door open and wheeled the cot out. Cold air touched her bare chest and she buttoned her kurti up. She heard the click of the door opposite theirs and ran to her open door.
“Atharva?”
He had already walked halfway down the corridor.
“Atharva!”
“Yes?” He turned. She wanted to scream at him but the silence of the night and Begumjaan sleeping in the room across, not to forget Yathaarth, stopped her.
“One minute,” she nudged her chin inside. He took an about turn and marched back. She let him in, then closed the door. Locked it. His eyes went to that action but he remained quiet. She stared at him, willing him to say something. Willing this courteous stranger to break. He did not break. Her breaths slowly started to become pants.
