Chapter 12 Deepak

Chapter 12 Deepak

DEEPAK: Any word?

SANA: I'm meeting Olivia tomorrow. She finally agreed to give me five. I know I've asked you this already, but what do you want

me to say?

DEEPAK: I don't know, Sana. Literally whatever it takes to get her to come back for the board meeting.

SANA: Fine, I'll do this my way. Just take care of my sister, and I'll handle Olivia.

DEEPAK: Thanks.

Deepak thought it would be way more difficult living with another person than it was. He was all about minimalism and order. The longer he could keep his house the way he wanted it, the more comfortable he felt. But somehow, despite Veera's love of clutter, they'd fallen into a steady rhythm over the last week.

Veera worked on her ethical lending pitch during the day while he was in the office, and they had dinner at night. Twice they

went out for a walk like an old Indian couple slowly strolling up and down the same street.

She looked excited whenever she spoke about ethical lending trends in the market, and even though it had been months where

they barely spoke to each other by text, Deepak was sure that this was the first time in a while that Veera was thrilled about

the work that she was doing.

Hopefully, her pitch was ready to go because he was sure that his father was going to ask a ton of questions.

"Are you sure I look okay?" Veera asked, as Deepak eased off the main highway. The two-lane road cut straight through the

hillside to the family home.

"You look beautiful," he replied, without glancing at her in his passenger seat. He was pretty sure that the word beautiful was an understatement. No, Veera was more gorgeous than he'd ever seen her before. She was dressed in a deep red sari, with

her hair in a loose French braid draped over one shoulder. The color of the outfit matched her chuda set that she continued

to wear every day. Her mehndi was beginning to fade, but the designs were still visible enough to prove her new marital status.

A small silver bindi winked in the center of her arched eyebrows, mirroring the tiny diamond on her nose, and the subtle,

delicate glamour was enchanting.

But out of all the sparkle Veera wore, the ring was the most satisfying to see. She twisted the large diamond solitaire and

wedding band on her finger, the symbol of their marriage. He knew that they'd picked out the rings together, and her eyes

had gone wide when she saw the size of the diamond. She'd insisted on something smaller and more affordable, but he'd bought

it for her anyway. It was worth it considering he'd caught her admiring the ring when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Man, I could really go for a hamburger right now," Veera said wistfully.

He glanced at her, smiling. "What has you craving hamburgers?"

"I always want hamburgers right before I do anything religious," she said. "I know we're not supposed to eat meat before a

religious thing, but if you tell me I can't eat something, I'm going to crave that thing."

"Ah. Because my mother is going to probably put you through the ceremony wringer when we get to the house, you're now craving

hamburgers."

She dropped her head back against the seat rest. "Yeah," she said with a sigh. "Hamburger with bacon and cheese."

"Wow, that really does make you a bad Hindu."

She burst out laughing, then shoved him in the arm. "Technically as my fake husband, you should accept me flaws and all."

As your real husband.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "If we make it through the weekend in one piece, I will buy you whatever hamburger you want.

Even if I have to fly somewhere to get it for you."

Veera turned to him, her eyes lined with sooty black kajal, her lashes long and thick. The tiny gold jhumkas swayed at her

earlobes. "Promise?"

"Promise," he said. And because he had a craving, too, he held his hand out, palm up until Veera took it, and laced her fingers

with his.

He liked touching her, liked being close after he'd wasted so much time. He knew that he had a lot to make up for, but maybe

holding her hand was a nice start on the path to redemption.

Veera left her fingers laced with his as they turned onto his parents' drive and Deepak maneuvered the car through the iron

gates at the end of the lane.

The house was smaller than some of the other estates in the region, with six bedrooms set up like individual suites on five acres of dense forested land. The leaves were just starting to change colors, creating a cottagecore feel to the scenery.

Deepak loved the location. When he was young, he and his cousins would run through the trees and look for animal tracks. After

hours of play, they would all come back to a kitchen exploding with mouthwatering smells. His aunts and mother stood around

the large butcher-block island working like an assembly line before something delicious was either put on a tava or slipped

in a wok of hot oil.

Because this was the first time he was bringing Veera to see his family in an official relationship capacity, Deepak knew

that his mother was probably going to cook for her the same way.

He couldn't wait for all of them to spend time together. For his parents to care for her the same way that he—

"Oh my god, this place is like a remote location in a horror movie."

He slammed on the brakes as he reached the end of the driveway and shoved the car in park before he turned his entire body

in his seat to glare at her. "Did you compare my parents' house to a horror movie?"

"Well, not the house," she said. She leaned forward to look up at the canopy of trees. "But the surroundings. Sorry, it was

the first thing that came to mind."

" A horror movie? "

"Deepak, I'm a math girl, so if you're looking for a better comparison for beautiful, wooded scenery, you have to help me

do it." She unbuckled her seat belt and slid out of the car just as he turned off the engine and did the same.

They met in the front of the vehicle, and Veera adjusted her sari so the pallu wrapped around her like a shawl. When she shivered,

he slipped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go inside. Fall is exponentially cooler here than it is in the city. I'll come back out to get the bags later."

He felt her shiver again, and this time he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or because of her nerves.

"Don't worry," he said, more to himself than to her.

"I'm not worried," she replied. "Parents generally like me. I'm delightful."

He burst out laughing just as the door swung open and his mother and father stood in the entranceway. They were both dressed

up, his mother in a cream-and-pearl salwar kameez and his father in a complementary kurta. They saw the grin on his face,

and both of their expressions softened.

"Our bahu is here," his mother said. "Finally! I never thought this day would come."

That's when Deepak noticed the flowers. There were dozens of them.

No, that was an understatement. There were thousands of blooms.

The petals first started at the edge of the doorframe and created a wide path into the house. The curved staircase banister

was wrapped in garlands, and strands covered the railing all the way up to the second-floor balcony.

"Okay, now I'm worried," Veera said under her breath.

"Mom, what is all this?" He moved to enter the house through the doorway, when his mother held up a hand to stop him.

"We have to welcome our daughter-in-law first," she said. Then she retrieved another one of her silver trays from a table

in the foyer. There was a diya in the center, with rice, vermilion powder, and a small statue. His mother lifted the tray

and made two circles in front of Veera, then using her ring finger, she put a dot of sindoor in the center of Veera's forehead.

She lifted the pink chum chum sweets to her mouth for Veera to take a delicate bite.

Veera went through the steps, folding her hands at exactly the right moment, but her cheeks had paled, and she kept glancing in his direction.

"Veera, now you have to knock over the rice," Deepak's father said, motioning to a copper urn that was situated just inside

the doorframe. "This will mark your first footsteps into your new home."

"Dad, is this really necessary?" Deepak said. Veera was moments away from blowing their cover or running back to the car.

Maybe comparing his family's house to a horror movie was appropriate.

This was her horror movie.

His father ignored him as he set up a tray filled with what looked like red paint in front of the copper urn.

"Veera, you push the urn with your right foot, then you step into the tray."

Veera looked up at Deepak, her eyes wide as she chewed on her bottom lip. This wasn't something they had talked about or prepared

for. Deepak's parents had said that it would be a casual dinner and get-together. Additional religious ceremonies only made

their marriage seem even more irreversible. These were cultural traditions that solidified their relationship at a soul-deep

level. Every rice kernel thrown in blessing was a step closer to their union becoming permanent.

Deepak knew that for his parents, marriage was never just about the two of them. It couldn't be. Their marriage, as Punjabis,

was always going to be about community. So, he touched her elbow, hoping that he could urge her along, and they'd deal with

the repercussions of their actions later. Much, much later.

"Want to hold on to me so you don't fall flat on your face?" he asked.

The panic turned into irritation in a blink of an eye. Three lines formed between her eyebrows again. "I'm messy, not clumsy," Veera said. "But I appreciate the gentlemanly offer."

With her hand in his, she toed off her heels at the entrance, and in bare feet, carefully tipped over the rice urn, then stepped

in the sticky red dye. With his help, she then stepped onto the tile that was prepped for her.

His mother produced another tray, this time with a bride yellow paste that Veera placed her palms in. She was instructed to

press her hands against the wall to her right, staining the eggshell color with her prints.

The ceremony celebrating Veera's entrance into the Dattas' home was now complete. No matter what happened after this point,

she was well and truly integrated into the history of Deepak's family's home.

"Welcome, daughter-in-law," his mother said. Then she cupped Veera's face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss against her

temple.

Deepak saw Veera's eyes brighten with tears as well and swallowed the lump in his throat. When had their plan to fix their

careers consumed all the parts of their lives until it seemed impossible to see any individual part without each other? At

least that's how he felt about Veera and her presence in his childhood home.

"Now comes the difficult part," his mother said, oblivious to the fact that all of this was difficult for them. "We have to

get you cleaned up before I can feed you!"

Deepak removed his suit coat from her shoulders and tossed it over the banister to retrieve later. Then without another word,

he scooped Veera up in his arms. With their heads so close together, he whispered in his ear, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered back, even as she held her hands to the side so she didn't get the turmeric paste on his clothes. "But I'm tempted to fingerpaint your face like a child."

"Well, we can't have that," Deepak said, amused.

Ignoring his parents' stares, he carried her down the hall and nudged the door open to the half bath. The sensor picked up

their presence and the lights flickered on as he set her down on the edge of the vanity countertop.

"What are you doing?" she asked from her perch.

"Just hang on for a second." He retrieved the towels his mother had set out for her on a small console table near the door.

He twisted the white stone sink taps and waited until the water felt warm to the touch. Veera watched him as he soaked the

first towel before he lifted her left foot to carefully clean the residual red dye.

"You don't have to do that," she said, trying to tug her foot from his hold. "Just leave the towel, and I can—"

"We're in this together," he said, his hold on her ankle firm. He looked up at her from his kneeling position. "And as your

husband, I consider it my privilege."

Veera bit her lip and looked away from him. "Deepak, we're getting too deep," she whispered. "This isn't the way it's supposed

to happen."

"I know," he said, as he carefully cleaned off the dye. He didn't pretend to misunderstand her.

Veera's ankles were so slender in his hands, her feet had high arches, and her toenails were painted a delicate blush peach.

He gently ran the hand towel down the center of her sole. She jerked against his hold, then wiggled her toes.

He wondered what it would be like if she let him touch her toes again like this. If she stretched out on his couch, slid her

feet onto his lap, and coaxed him into giving her a massage after they both had worked a long day.

With thoughts of tumbling her back against his throw pillows, of kissing the thin gold anklets that he knew she liked to wear, Deepak stood and retrieved a fresh towel to wash Veera's hands. He stood inches apart from her now, and he could feel the warmth of her breath, the tension in her muscles as he carefully removed the last of the paste from between her fingers.

Then, because he couldn't help himself, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. The edge of

his smile touched the edge of her frown. "Are you okay? Want me to make an excuse and take you back to the city?"

Veera shook her head, her dry hands coming up to brush at the spot he'd kissed her. "No," she whispered. "That would be rude,

and your mom did so much work to welcome us here. Hopefully, that's the last of the ceremony."

"I think it is," Deepak said. He tossed the discarded towels in the sink where he'd deal with them later. He then helped her

off the vanity, so she stood. "Is there anything I can do to make this whole experience less uncomfortable?"

"Baby pictures," she said. Then she smiled.

"You want to see baby pictures?"

"Yup," she replied.

"Yeah, okay, there are limits on what I am willing to do."

She pressed her cleaned palms together and pouted. "There has to be at least one of you sitting in a random bathroom bucket

in India. Oh, maybe I can have your mom send them to me so I can set some of my favorites in your living room. I think it'll

match that beaded rope you have on your coffee table that you call decor."

He held open the door for her as they walked out of the bathroom. "You know what? Next time you have dye on your feet, I'm

just going to let you fall on your face."