The Betrayal Ch. 02

"What's wrong Neha? Is everything alright?" Asha asked, looking between them. Neha felt Hari's gaze and a pressure built inside of her chest as she racked her brain for how to respond.

"Yes, everything is fine. Just thinking about dad," Neha lied. "Thank you, Hari for checking on me."

Asha hugged Neha and turned to Hari with warmth and appreciation in her gaze. Neha tried to mask the dread inside of her. Relief trickled in as it became clear that her mother suspected nothing. Asha had the look of someone who was pleasantly surprised at having a partner to count on.

The festivities simmered down. Hari drove both Neha and Asha home. The night carried the heat from the day. Neha walked toward the flat and looked back over her shoulder. Hari was holding both of her mother's hands and leaning to kiss her forehead.

"You can stay if you want," her mother told him. Flutterings of hope surged inside of Neha. If only they could spend some time together, just a minute in each other's arms.

"Thank you, my love but I need to wake up early tomorrow and start packing," he told her. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Asha shook her head and he squeezed her hands. He shot her one last smile before heading back to his apartment. 'Just act normal,' Neha told herself. She just had to make it to her room. When the door closed behind her, she wrenched the dress off and let the tears roll down her cheeks.

~

The following week was no easier than the wedding. It was Hari's last week teaching before the honeymoon. Students were congratulating him whenever they got the chance and worse, Neha had to keep their distance. They couldn't raise any suspicion before the honeymoon.

"When I get back, we will have more time together than ever before," Hari had promised her before the wedding. The last time that she was in his arms. They had risked going to his office after hours.

Class was over, but Neha didn't move from her seat. She waited until all the students were gone and went to lock the door. Hari stared after her, wary and waited until the door was locked to speak.

"What are you doing, Neha?"

"I want to kiss you just once before your honeymoon," she said. Her flirty tone disguised the turmoil inside of her.

"Neha-" he began as she walked up to him. Hari's lips set into a thin line. Neha reached for his cheek and brought his lips to hers. Her tongue demanded attention. He acquiesced to her kiss but when her body joined in, he started to resist.

Her hands were hungry, wrapping around him. She was arching up against him and her hips were volatile, heat pervading through his slacks. He tore away. She looked at his with hurt and dejection.

"We can't do this Neha. I'm sorry," Hari told her. "It puts everything we have worked so hard for at risk."

"Hari ... can't we ...?" Neha began but his expression was firm. She looked down, not able to handle the way he was regarding her. She had acted out of desperation and was paying the price. It always felt that way. Hari reached for her hand, his thumb tracing the contours of her wrist.

"We can get through this," he told her. She risked meeting his eyes again. This time they shone with understanding. He leaned down and pressed his lips on hers. She tasted the sweetness. It was a beautiful contrast to her desperation.

"Soon, my love," he told her. Neha nodded, her fingers lacing with his, but she couldn't help but think about the night of the wedding. How he had addressed her mother the same way. It seemed there was no immediate remedy for any of it. Not even sex on his desk. All that was left was to wait.

~

The flight to Bagdogra was brief yet thrilling for Asha. She hadn't traveled in so long. There was a pit in her chest. She already missed Neha. They hadn't spent much time apart since her husband's death. Hari carried their bags as they flagged down a taxi to their hotel. Verdant hills surrounded them from all sides as the cab headed for Darjeeling.

Asha kept her hands clasped in her lap. The window was cracked open and her hair was wispy and free in the breeze. Hari smiled at her. His hand reached for hers, but he wordlessly waited for permission before his hand closed the distance. She nodded after some hesitation and his fingers made contact.

It would take some getting used to. Being touched again in any capacity was still new to her. His fingers were light on hers. She was still beside him but relaxed as the minutes passed. Would there be a day when she would be acclimated to his touch? Perhaps even take it for granted? She couldn't imagine such a day, and yet it seemed all marriages were resigned to it.

Their hotel came to view. It was small but cozy. The air smelled of jasmine and orange blossoms. It was a pleasant escape from city air. The tea plantations sprawled below them, cutting into the hillscape. A breathless labyrinth of pruned shrubs and trees.

They were served cold tea and curry shortly after their arrival. Asha had changed into a flowy dress that Neha had helped her pick out. It was less conservative but still proper.

"You are stunning," Hari remarked. They were strolling through the gardens just before dusk. Her hand in his. She only smiled. His flattery was warm and precious to her. He was only inches away, his cologne mixing with the fresh air.

Hari reached over. Asha thought he was going to reach for her, pull her in for a kiss. Instead, he picked a stray leaf out of her hair.

"This is not befitting of my bride," he said loftily as he discarded the leaf. He turned around. "But this just might. If it meets your standards that is. You are the professional," Hari said as he turned back around with a cherry blossom in his hand.

Asha bowed her head as he tucked it behind her ear. That was when he leaned in. She didn't see it coming. Their first kiss under the Silver Oak was brief. A mere peck on her lips. He pulled away for a brief moment. There was an awkwardness between them as she was so out of practice. He dared to lean down again, giving her lips more attention.

The plantation was deserted at this time. Still, Asha looked around, anxious that they had been seen. They might be married but kissing in public wasn't something she would ever get used it. Something that was frowned up even in this day. Hari didn't press his luck but they shared a moment with their hands locked, smiling over their first kiss.

~

Later that night, Asha stood by the bed. She thought Hari was in the bathroom and began to undress. She hadn't gotten far when Hari's hands rested on her shoulders. Her breath caught. She didn't move. Hari moved her long hair to one side so he could kiss her neck without obstruction.

Asha's dress slid further down her arms. He turned her toward him. Hari's mouth assured her that their first kiss in the gardens was unfinished, merely a teaser. She shivered under his roaming touch, comforted by his courteous embrace.

She couldn't keep up with his tongue, but he didn't mind. His kisses roamed to the edges of her bra. Her fingers were still dyed with henna, albeit faded since their wedding. His hands closed around hers, pressing them to her chest. He guided her to the bed. Asha was lying back on the bed as Hari gently slipped the thick fabric off of her ankles.

"How have you survived in this," he murmured. It was far too thick a fabric for the humid heat. Her arms covered her bra. She looked at him and away again, insecure. It had been so long since anyone had seen her this way.

He murmured to her how beautiful she was and kissed her until her resistance and tension subsided. There was a current between them. He followed her subtle queues. She was silent for as long as she could manage, but when his tongue slid across her thighs, she was unable to contain herself.

Still her moans were soft, almost inaudible. When he entered, they intensified but remained muffled against his skin. He felt protective of her as he moved inside of her. Protective of her pleasure, of her modesty. His fingers threaded around her wrists. Her breathing was unraveled.

She was sensitive to every detail of their love making. He couldn't be rough as he would with her daughter. Instead, he knew to be slow and thoughtful, to whisper reassurances in her ear. He released her wrists as he approached his climax. Her embrace was gentle, her hips barely moving. Every thrust reawakened her arousal, after years of dormancy.

Asha surrendered to what her body remembered. Her hips began to move and his grunts filled the room. She wouldn't let herself be loud, but her face couldn't hide her exhilaration. He kissed her as he lost control, clenching his fingers around hers.

She didn't know what to do with her hips anymore and instead started another cycle of kissing. It didn't end after his completion. It evolved and blossomed. The darkness concealed their experimentation and elation. She didn't know what she was doing but found that he was a willing teacher.