Read Becoming Her - A New Life :: Chapter 10 Part 2

By the time Kiran reached home, it was nearly 10:30 pm. The detour in the taxi had been necessary-Roshni had parked her scooter near his house earlier that day, so they dropped her off first. Then, he had escorted Priya to her parents' home before finally arriving at his own doorstep.

As he neared the door, he noticed something odd-the lights inside were on.

He froze.
Burglars?

Heart racing, he reached for the key tucked inside the small zipper of his handbag and unlocked the door cautiously.

The house was quiet, but the hall lights were definitely on. He took a step in, gently closing the door behind him. The faint sound of movement came from the bedroom.

Raj? he thought, startled. No, that's not possible. His flight should've just taken off from Kolkata.

He stood still, listening. Someone was definitely inside the bedroom.

His eyes scanned the hall for anything he could use as a weapon. Nothing obvious. In a moment of desperation, he reached into the same handbag he'd dropped off hurriedly in the evening and pulled out a steel water bottle.

Bottle raised like a sword, he crept toward the bedroom. The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open-and just as he was about to strike, a familiar voice called out, amused and calm:

"Hey, hey... relax, Queen of Jhansi!"

Kiran froze. "Raj?!"

Raj grinned standing near the bed, suitcase open beside him. "Surprise!."

"How-how did you get here so early?"

"I flew," Raj said dramatically. "In a plane, of course. My flight got rescheduled to an earlier one. I thought I'd surprise you."

"You could've got killed for your efforts," Kiran said, lowering the bottle with a scowl.

Raj chuckled. "Yeah, what a welcome. First woman to try and bludgeon her husband with a water bottle for coming home early."

"I thought you were a thief," Kiran explained, but Raj wasn't listening. His eyes had begun to scan him up and down with a mischievous glint.

"I may not be a thief, but you..." Raj paused, tilting his head. "You look like the Queen of Thieves, here to steal hearts."

Kiran flushed instantly, suddenly very aware of the short-sleeved top and jeans Priya and Roshni had forced him into. The fabric clung in all the wrong-or right-places and didn't cover as much as he wished.

"Stop it, Raj. You promised," he said quickly.

"I know, I know," Raj said, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "But it's really hard to keep that promise when you look this... Gorgeous.You look really breathtaking in this outfit "

He took one step forward.

Kiran raised the bottle again in a mock defensive move. "Raj, I'm warning you."

Raj grinned and bowed low. "My Queen of Thieves... may I have the honor of a dance?"

Kiran couldn't help it-he laughed. "Shut up, Raj. You're such a drama queen."

"Just one dance, Your Highness," he said with mock nobility. "After all, I flew all the way from Kolkata just for this moment."

He raised his phone and said, "Siri, play some ball dance music."

"No, wait-" Kiran began, but music began pouring from the speaker anyway.

"I don't even know how to dance," he muttered.

"Says every good dancer ever," Raj quipped.

Before Kiran could protest further, Raj took his hand and gently placed an arm around his waist. Kiran let out a sigh and began to move gently to the music. His feet moved almost instinctively to the rhythm, his body responding with muscle memory that didn't entirely belong to him. He was dancing. And not badly.

The old Kiran loved dancing, he remembered.

Raj was grinning. "See? I'm already falling behind."

Kiran laughed. He was surprised-not just by his own grace, but by how happy he felt. The lightness in his steps, the music, the company. It was all... enjoyable. Too enjoyable.

The music faded.

Raj stepped back and clapped. "Oh my queen, that was wonderful."

Kiran, a little out of breath, waved his hand dismissively. "Just some old memories, that's all."

They both flopped down on the sofa, slightly winded.

Kiran stared at his lap, a little embarrassed by how much he'd enjoyed it. But Raj had kept his word-he hadn't tried to cross any lines.
He smiled at that thought and said, "I know this was all a ruse to make me forget the puchkas and rosogollas."

"Oh no, madam, how could I forget?" Raj said, standing up dramatically. He pulled out a brown paper packet from his backpack. "Here. Your precious puchkas."

Kiran blinked. "You're kidding. You brought puchkas on a flight?"

"There was a stall at the airport," Raj explained.

Kiran opened the packet. "Raj, they're dry puchkas-just the shells with a little masala(mixed spice) mix inside. Technically, they're not even puchkas." He laughed.

"Let me see," Raj said, popping one in his mouth. "They taste good."

Kiran tried one too. "Hmm. Not bad."

He popped another into his mouth, then frowned. "Wait... you must be starving. I didn't ask the cook to make anything today. I had no idea you were coming early."

Raj gave him a mock-horrified look. "How could you? I came from across the country and you didn't even keep chutney (condiment made from fruits, vegetables, or herbs, often spicy or tangy) and chapati (Indian flatbread) for me?"

"Wait, I'll make you an omelette or something!" Kiran said, looking genuinely guilty.

Raj winked. "Don't worry, I'm ordering online. What shall I get?"

"Nothing for me," Kiran replied. "I ate a lot at the mall..."

"Come on. Share some Chicken Biryani (chicken & rice dish) with me."

While Raj ordered, Kiran went to change into the bedroom . He came back wearing a loose cotton nightgown-his go-to comfort wear over the last few days. When Raj saw what Kiran was wearing, he made a face.

"Oh no. Not that gown again."

"What?" Kiran said defensively. "It's comfortable."

"It's... tragic," Raj said, wrinkling his nose. "You've worn that all week. I think it smells of your sweat."

"Shut up," Kiran laughed. "I have three of the same kind"

"Even worse," Raj teased.

The food arrived soon after, the fragrant aroma filling the room.

"You ordered for two?" Kiran asked, seeing the bill.

"Half for you, one-and-a-half for me."

Kiran sat down beside him. As they ate, he noticed how quickly he was filling up. A week ago, he could've finished the whole biryani himself. Now, even before halfway, he was already full.

He let out a soft belch, then looked embarrassed. Raj grinned.

Why am I embarrassed about that? Kiran scolded himself.

"I'm done," he told Raj. "Twice over."

"Not quite," Raj said cheerfully. "You still have to finish dessert."

Kiran groaned. "No way. Don't tell me-"

"Oh yes," Raj said, pulling out a small white box. "Rosogollas (famous Bengali dessert). From Kolkata. You asked for it."

"Why did I even text you?" Kiran said, feigning regret.

"Too late now." Raj opened the box and offered him one. "Come on. It's your favourite."

---------

It was quite late when they finally went to bed. Raj kept to his side, as promised. Within minutes, his soft snores filled the room-he must've been exhausted from the travel.

Kiran lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling.

He was starting to enjoy Raj's company—the teasing, the laughter, the steady presence. It felt comforting, like that of a close friend, he told himself. But he also knew: Raj saw him as his wife. A woman. And probably wanted more than just light-hearted conversation

Well, he's not getting it, Kiran told himself firmly.

He looked at Raj sleeping peacefully and his expression softened just a bit.

He hoped for a miracle-for a return to his own world.
Till then... one day at a time, he thought.

He drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

That night, he dreamed.

He was wandering through a vast, echoing castle filled with doors and windows. Behind one of those doors, he sensed someone-or something-calling out to him.

He searched and searched, brushing his fingers against cold stone and ancient wood. He knew the door he needed... but he just couldn't find it.

-------

The morning light filtered through the curtains in thick golden beams. Kiran stirred, cozy and warm, reluctant to move.

He shifted slightly-only to realize the warmth came from Raj's body.

His head was resting on Raj's shoulder. Their bodies were pressed close together. Raj's arm was draped loosely around his waist.

Damn," Kiran muttered to himself. "Just damn."

---

Glossary of Indian Terms

1. Puchkas - A popular street snack from Eastern India, especially Bengal (also known as golgappas or panipuri in other regions). They are crispy, hollow balls filled with spicy potato mash and tangy flavored water.

2. Rosogollas- Soft, spongy balls made of chhena (Indian cottage cheese) soaked in sugar syrup. A famous Bengali dessert.

3. Queen of Jhansi- A reference to Rani Lakshmibai, the historic queen who fought against British rule in 1857. In modern slang, calling someone "Queen of Jhansi" humorously implies they're acting bold or ready for battle.

4. Chutney- A condiment made from fruits, vegetables, or herbs, often spicy or tangy, and served as a side dish with Indian meals.

5. Chapati - A type of Indian flatbread made from whole wheat flour, usually cooked on a skillet and eaten with curries or vegetables.

6. Kurti: A tunic-like upper garment worn by women in South Asia. It is usually worn with leggings, jeans, or salwars and is known for being both comfortable and stylish.

7. Salwar: A pair of loose-fitting trousers that taper at the ankles, traditionally worn with a kameez (long shirt) or kurti. It's part of the salwar kameez outfit.

8. Saree: A traditional Indian garment for women, consisting of a long piece of cloth (typically around six to nine yards) that is draped around the body and over one shoulder, usually worn with a blouse and petticoat

9. Chicken Biryani - A richly spiced and aromatic rice dish made by layering marinated chicken with basmati rice, saffron, and a blend of spices.

---

That's the end of Chapter 10 part 2. Do let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Comment freely.

Thankyou

------------------------------------------

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief q

uotations used for review purposes.