Ambivalence

Words, Mrs. Sharvansh

Aaradhya's POV

The next day, I was too tired to wake up early in the morning, but annoyance replaced my lethargy as the bright sunlight pierced through the window. Grumbling, I pulled the blanket over my head in an attempt to block out the unwelcome intrusion.

"Wake up, sleepy head," I heard my husband's husky voice, his tone laced with both amusement and affection.

Refusing to yield to his wake-up call, I turned my body to the other side, burying my face further into the soft pillow. However, curiosity got the better of me, and I reluctantly lifted the blanket slightly, peering out from beneath its comforting cover.

My gaze fell upon Sharvansh, who was busily fixing his tie, all dressed up and ready for the day. I sat up straight, a mix of surprise and concern flickering in my eyes. This man had been battling a high fever just yesterday, and now he appeared determined and focused on leaving for work.

As I observed him, a debate raged within my mind. Should I ask him if he was truly okay, or should I let him carry on with his routine, not wanting to interfere with his responsibilities? The conflicting thoughts played out, leaving me uncertain about whether to voice my concerns or maintain a silent watch over the man who seemed to be recovering remarkably fast.

"Um, Rana Sa-"

"Sharvansh,"

"Sorry?"

"I don't like every other person calling me Rana Sa, so I would appreciate it more if you called me by my name."

I frowned at his words and said, "But almost everybody calls you Rana Sa, and you said only your close ones are allowed to call you by your name."

"You are holding the position of my wife; you are close enough to call me by my name," his words made my heart flutter.

Sometimes, I really doubted if he had a twin brother or suffered from dual personality disorder. Understanding him seemed like an elusive task. Sighing, I got out of bed and walked towards him to check if his fever was down.

I stood facing him between the dressing table and him, lifted my arms to check his temperature. As the back of my palm touched his forehead, the temperature seemed to be normal.

I was about to withdraw my hand when he held it, causing goosebumps to erupt on my body as his breath fanned across the back of my hand.

"We have to attend a wedding for three days; we will be leaving in the evening, so get whatever you want and pack our bags," he said, making my blood boil. Again, he did it again. He always gave me short notices, whether it's about project presentations or meetings in other states, and now these events.

"Rana-"

"Ahem."

"Argh, aapne mujhe yeh sab ek hafte pehle kyu nahi bataya," I said, containing my anger.

I took a deep breath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in my mind. The Italy project demanded my attention, and choosing outfits already posed a challenge. Now, on top of everything, he expected me to pack clothes for a three-day wedding. The sheer weight of the tasks ahead left me feeling overwhelmed.

"It ain't a big deal; ask any maid to help you," he said, his nonchalant tone only adding to my frustration.

"Easy for you to say," I retorted, my annoyance evident.

"Ek outfit choose karne ke liye mujhe teen ghante lagte hain, shaadi ke liye kapde chunne ke liye toh pura din hi nikal jaayega," I mumbled under my breath, a sarcastic commentary on the intricacies of selecting the perfect outfit.