Chapter 11

If you are a new reader: Welcome! You’ve stumbled into a story of desires, secrets and choices. To understand how we arrived at this point ... how a marriage became a bargaining chip, and how love twisted into something unrecognizable ... I strongly recommend starting with Chapter 1.

For our returning readers: Thank you for continuing this journey! When we last left our characters, Nitin had been forced to unpack his wife’s lingerie and a sex toy for her use with another man. He had been sent on a humiliating errand. And when Komal asked him if any of this was worth it ... if the promotion was worth watching her be claimed by someone else ... he couldn’t let go of his ambition. “Just until the promotion,” he told her. “Then it ends.” But does anything truly end?

~BhagiRath

Komal Narrates:

The dining room of the Royal Bengal Reserve had been transformed for our retreat ... long wooden tables arranged under a beautiful canopy of string lights. The sliding glass walls letting in the night air of the grasslands, the distant sounds of the animals mixing with the clink of glasses and bursts of laughter from the staff.

Rahul led me to a corner table near the windows, away from the others. The waiters had already prepared the setting ... crisp white linens, crystal glasses, candles flickering in glass holders. It was romantic and intimate. Exactly what I would have wanted, if only I wasn’t acutely aware that my husband was alone somewhere in this same lodge.

We sat across from each other, the darkness of the forest stretching out beyond the window behind him. A waiter appeared immediately, pouring wine into our glasses without being asked. Rahul had ordered for both of us ... lamb chops, dal makhni, naan ... all my favorites.

But he hadn’t said a word since we sat down.

He kept swirling his wine, watching the darkness beyond the glass, his jaw tight. There was something different about him tonight ... a weight behind his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

“You’re quiet,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

He took a long sip of wine before answering. “About how beautiful you look tonight.”

The words should have warmed me. Instead, they made my stomach tighten with guilt.

“Rahul,” I said, setting down my fork. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“You know what.” I kept my voice low, mindful of the staff nearby. “The lube. The dildo. Making him unpack my ... things. Making him watch.”

Rahul’s expression didn’t change. He took another slow sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine. The candlelight was highlighting the hard angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look almost predatory.

“I told you. This is his test.”

“Is it?” I leaned forward. “Or are you punishing him?”

A flicker of emotion crossed Rahul’s face ... not anger, exactly, but something more raw. Something that looked almost like pain. He set down his glass and turned to face me fully.

“Let me ask you something, Komal.” His voice was quiet, controlled. “Why did you marry him?”

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“Nitin. Why did you marry him?”

“I...” I hesitated. “We loved each other. We still do.”

“Do you?”

The way he said it ... so simply, so directly ... made my chest ache.

“Because I’ve been watching him, Komal. Really watching him. And I don’t see a man who loves his wife. I see a man who traded her to save his job, and now for a promotion.”

“That’s not...”

“He came to me, Komal. Remember? He offered himself as my ‘personal concierge.’ He practically begged me to let him serve us.” Rahul’s voice was still controlled. “What kind of man does that? What kind of man watches his wife with another man and gets hard? What kind of man buys lubricant for his wife’s lover and thanks him for the opportunity?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“I’ll tell you one thing I am sure of,” Rahul continued, his voice dropping lower. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

He leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight.

I thought about last night. About what I’d confessed. I love you. I’d said it twice, and both times I’d meant it. But I’d also told him I needed to save my marriage. Those two truths couldn’t coexist, yet they lived inside me, tearing me apart.

An unreasonable anger formed inside me.

“You can’t say that to me, Rahul!”

“Can’t I? I am merely stating the facts, Komal. He has you ... yet doesn’t appreciate you. I am the one who wants you, but can’t keep you. Just because ... what ... some piece of paper that says you’re married? What other bond is keeping you together?”

I opened my mouth to say something, to defend Nitin. But I had nothing.

“Think about it, Komal” Rahul continued. “You’ve likely had more sex with me in these last few weeks than you’ve had the entire time you were with him. You’ve certainly had more orgasms - I know that. Tell me if I’m wrong. The way you’ve been intimate with me ... do you have that with Nitin?”

I said nothing. Rahul reached across the table and took my hand. His thumb traced the line of my knuckles, his grip warm and firm.

“All I’m saying is ... you deserve to be with a man who appreciates what he has. And...”

A server approached to refill our wine glasses, and Rahul released my hand. The moment passed.

But the weight of his words lingered.

We finished dinner in silence, watching the flickering light from the firepit in the courtyard outside the windows. The staff had gathered around a large fire pit, singing old Hindi songs, their voices carrying through the night.

Somewhere in the distance, the jackal called ... a sound of hunger, of pursuit, of something being chased through the tall grass.

I thought of Nitin, alone in his room. I thought of Rahul, sitting across from me, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. And I thought of myself ... caught between them.

Suddenly, Rahul gestured to something outside the window.

“Isn’t that Tina?” he asked.

Yes it was.

And she wasn’t alone.

Patil had her cornered against one of the wooden posts that framed the patio, his body leaning into hers, his hand resting on her hip. She was laughing, but it was the wrong kind of laugh ... too loud, too brittle, the kind that comes from too much alcohol and not enough genuine joy. Her head was tilted back against the post, her eyes half-closed, her body language loose and unguarded.

As I watched, Patil’s hand slid lower, settling on her thigh. He leaned in and said something in her ear that made her giggle again. But this time, she didn’t push him away.

“Is she...?” I started, but the question died in my throat.

“She’s drunk,” Rahul said flatly. “And he’s taking advantage.”

I was already standing, my napkin falling to the chair. “I need to...”

“Go.” Rahul nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be out in a second.”

I moved quickly through the dining room, pushing past the staff who were still lingering near the entrance, their faces flushed with liquor and laughter. The night air hit me as I stepped onto the patio ... cool and sharp after the warmth inside.

Tina saw me coming. Her eyes widened, just for a second, before she looked away.

“Tina!” I called out, my voice sharper than I intended.

Patil turned, his hand still on her thigh. “Ah, Komal ma’am. Joining us? We were just...”

“She’s coming with me,” I said, reaching for Tina’s arm. “Now.”

“Hey, hey,” Patil said, his voice rising in protest. “We were just having a good time. Weren’t we, Tina?”

Tina looked at me, then at Patil. For a moment, I thought she was going to argue. But then her expression shifted ... something crumbling behind her eyes.

“Komal,” she said, her voice thick. “I think ... I think I need to lie down.”

“Yes, you do,” I said firmly. I pulled her away from Patil, my hand on her waist to steady her. She stumbled slightly, her heels catching on the stone pavers.

“Komal ma’am ... she’s fine,” Patil protested, stepping forward. “We were just...”

“She’s not fine,” I said, my voice cold. “And you should go back to your room, Patil sir. Before you do something you regret.”

His face hardened, but he stepped back. “I was just being friendly,” he muttered. “She was the one who...”

“Go to your room, Patil.” Rahul appeared at my side, his voice commanding.

Patil’s face changed in an instant and he wordlessly walked away, tail between his legs.

Rahul took Tina’s other arm without a word, and together we guided her through the lodge and toward the elevator. A few staff members glanced at us, but no one said anything. By now, they were used to seeing Tina drunk and stumbling.

She smelled of tequila and sweat, her floral sundress wrinkled and askew. As we walked, she leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder.

“You’re a good friend,” she mumbled. “You know that?”

“Let’s just get you to your room.”

The elevator ride was silent except for Tina’s occasional giggles and the hum of the machinery. When the doors opened on her floor, she pulled away from us, swaying on her feet.

“I can walk,” she insisted, though her legs disagreed.

We followed her to her room, watching as she fumbled with the key card. It took three tries before the light turned green. She pushed the door open and stumbled inside, collapsing onto the bed without bothering to turn on the lights.

I followed her in, Rahul stayed back at the doorway giving us some privacy.

Tina flopped on to her bed, belly first.

“Tina,” I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

She laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. She turned her head on the pillow to look at me, her eyes wet and unfocused in the dim light filtering through the window.

“Okay? No, Komal. I’m definitely not okay.”

“What happened? Why were you with Patil like that?”

Tina turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. Her hands gripped the bedspread, her knuckles white against the fabric.

“He was just ... there. And I wanted...”

She trailed off. Her head turned slowly toward me.

“I saw him today, you know. Nitin.”

My stomach tightened. “What about him?”

“After you and Rahul sir arrived. He was in the corridor. Looking...” She made a vague gesture near her chest. “I don’t know. Like someone had taken something from him.”

She sat up abruptly, her hand grasping my wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so drunk.

“I went to find him. I thought maybe he needed ... someone. You know?”

Her voice cracked.

“I know he doesn’t ... I know he doesn’t see me. Not really. But I thought...” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

I started to speak, but she continued.

“He looked right through me, Komal. Like I wasn’t even there.” Her brow furrowed. “What the fuck have I turned into, Komal?”

She looked straight into my eyes.

“Nitin, of all people ... the squarest, nerdiest man I’ve ever met ... how could I fall for him of all people? There’s something wrong with my brain, seriously.”