AUTHOR'S NOTE- Sorry for not updating fast enough, as you know I had a headache. Still have a little headache and dizziness. (Really don't know what's going on with my health!) I'll write more chapters when I'm able to, at the moment I'm not sure if I can update every day.

I may not update for a few days, once I'm well and have enough time I will! Hope you understand. Thank you for all the lovely messages I really do appreciate it:) 

Started Typing On - 01/12/2018 - Finished Typing On - 04/12/2018

Chapter 29- 'Red Hulk'

"You're stupid you know?" She hears his husky voice. It's a little imperative. His voice of tone. Jaanvi watches him with the same intensity, suggesting a little arrogantly for him to elaborate a little. "I'm not drunk. Least today. Do you think I'll risk my life driving if I was drunk? So, please, calm down Stubborn Cat."

Jaanvi can be suspicious sometimes. She steps closer to him, goes on her tip-toes to smell his breath. Kiaan is a little surprised, obviously because she's standing close to him, which she'd never do. Ever. Unless if she wants his support and acceptance for something important, then that's another case. 

She sniffs the smell. Normal. Nodding to herself, as if processing the truth she begins to step back but he grabs a hold of her shoulders. Keeping her in place. 

"Taking advantage of your husband, are you?" Kiaan questions. His face holds the perfect blend of blankness with cold expressions, if that was possible. He can be so unpredictable sometimes. Laughing one second and screaming the other. 

She smiles cheekily. "You can't take advantage of your own husband." Her lips are elastic with laughter at his astonished face. She studies his hand still gripping her shoulders. Second by second pulling her closer ever so slightly for it to go unnoticed. 

She's not ready for this. Or okay with this. So, of course, Jaanvi uses her special abilities to use her random humour to ease the atmosphere. "Always knew I was attractive." She rolls her eyes from right to left, a full poised circle and her lips curve into a beautiful smirk. If insulting or teasing smirks are allowed to be beautiful. 

He lets go. Her husband lets go of her shoulders. A victorious smile marries her face, eyes glowing in delight and pride for winning this undiscussed challenge of some sort against him. 

There is a long and heavy silence for a few minutes. It's torturous. Torturous to be standing in this bedroom with Kian, alone, in silence. Two people who never seem to shut up are zipped up, it doesn't get any worse.  

She takes this as a cue to create some necessary space between them and sits on the bed. Jaanvi pretends to not look at him but from the corner of her eyes, this is exactly what she's doing. She wonders what's going inside his head. 

Kiaan does not give up so easily. He does not surrender in front of Jaanvi.  Not without a reasonable and argumentative debate to the least. Millions of questions invade her mind. 

Why didn't he get drunk today?

Why was he talking to that bartender?

Why did he bring me here?

Why isn't he talking?

Why was he coming close?

Her questions are unanswered but urgent. Her chain of thoughts is broken by an ear-piercing sound of the vase shattering in small pieces. Jaanvi jumps up from the bed and flinches. Her eyes immediately wander to her husband and see's a furious looking Kiaan standing in the same spot. He's massaging his temple and breathing heavily as Jaanvi begins to process what just happened. 

The scenario in front of her is unfamiliar. It almost looks like he can hear some noises which she can't. She imagines it's because he has a headache. Taking small steps towards him, she reaches her shaky hand to touch him.

Her hands are trembling at his behaviour. Maybe because it's unexpected. Also, probably, because Jaanvi never considered Kiaan being this angry. 

Biting her lips to prevent herself from speaking, she gently grasps his forearm. He almost looks murderous. She has to be very careful with her choice of words.

"Y-you okay?"

His eyes shoot up. He stares at her with deadly expressions. His eyes were brutally dark and tough to make eye contact with. Despite her fear, Jaanvi looks him directly in his dark orbs, ignoring her uneasiness. 

"K-K-Ki-Kiaan?" She stutters, gulping down the horror she currently feels inside her body to see her husband like this.

"I need alcohol Jaanvi!" He growls this. Eyes fiercely glaring at her. She stays shocked. Rigid. Observing his wife taking nothing into account he grabs onto her shoulders and pulls her to his face.

When we see a thunderstorm, we notice it doesn't come alone. It always arrives with dark clouds, the sky goes charcoal as if to emphasise the arrival of the storm. It may be visually beautiful in movies or pictures but the fear it leaves behind crawls up everyone's spine. It's an experience of questions, of myths, of the storm. 

His eyes make her feel the same. A shudder swims past her. His eyes are so stormy. So determined and focused. So inraged. His body radiates an unpleasant feeling as it shakes a rumble, "I need alcohol. Right now! I need it NOW JAANVI."

His bride winces at the sharp pain he's causing her. She rests her hands flat on his chest, gently aiming to push him away from her. Her voice trembling, "K-Kiaan alcohol i-isn't g-good for you." She reasons.

"I need it damn it!" He yells in her ear. If she wasn't so alarmed,  Jaanvi would have cracked a joke about going deaf. 'Are you hoping I'd go deaf, Kaan? Mute's daughter becoming deaf? Not cool. So. Noy. Cool.' But this is no time to joke. 

Something wakes him. Her voice. Or her petrified face. Or perhaps her shivering body. Something happens because his face breaks in sweat and plead. His eyes soften and gaze on the floor, as if ashamed, and his hand loosen in her shoulders for a while before he presses all his body weight on her. To keep himself steady. 

"I-I can't sleep without it! M-my head hurts! P-please let me drink."

Three sentences and she's never seen Kiaan pleading. This plead. This request explains how awfully addicted he is to the beverage and there's nothing worse than seeing such an educated, highly ambitious and perfectly healthy man losing his world for alcohol. 

It made her sad. Pity. Broken. And then angry. So, so, so angry. She's seen people miserable because they crave education but can't afford it. And Kiaan, he has it. He has education, degrees, a job/business, family, money, a life abroad, yet.

This is possibly the most uneducated and negative thing she's heard someone say.

She looks at his pleading frame. She can surely give him a logical lecture about life but it doesn't seem like the best day or time to start the conversation. Speaking sense to him now would be like hitting your heard on the brick wall. 

Did he just ask me? Isn't he the Kiaan who does everything on his own? Without caring about other's opinions or feelings?

Her brain is frozen on one sentence. He asked if he could drink. He asked for her permission. That's a start. His face, the look he's giving her is disheartening. It's stupid but Jaanvi is considering his request for a mere minute before she shakes it off. His helpless face needed help not alcohol. 

As selfish as it may sound, she can't tolerate alcohol. She can't. The smell makes her want to puke all day. 

Her calmness is her only weapon. Therefore, Jaanvi works on her breathing, keep it steady and even and begins to run her hand up and down his chest. Silently assuring him he's okay and it's okay to not be okay too. 

His head moves slightly. Unaware of why she's doing this or how this'll change anything. And then he figures it out. When her hand makes contact with his heart, his chest rises, inhaling, and when her hand moves down, to his ribcage and below, he exhales. 

He follows this unspoken instruction of his wife silently. Kiaan's weight isn't on his one feet now. He's managed his balance from the help of Jaanvi. 

"Your head hurts, right?" She peacefully and quietly questions after a long silence in the room. He doesn't reply. She doesn't hear anything so Jaanvi looks up to find his dark eyes closed.  

It looked so soothing. As if he's relaxing. Standing but relaxing. 

He nods for a while. His hand loosens a little around her shoulders. A little. Not enough to run away though. 

She's shocked at her ownself for offering to help him. "Lay down. I'll massage your head, you'll feel better."

Never in her life did she imagine herself to massage his head. To offer to massage this show-offers head. But wasn't that the only option left?  She begins to work on her own theory. Just to give her heart a rest and believe she's helping him for her own sake. 

I mean even if I allowed him to get drunk, I'm sure this farmhouse doesn't have any alcohol. Therefore, he'll go outside for a manhunt, for beverage. 

Jaanvi almost laughs and snorts at the idea of Kiaan going on a man-hunt for alcohol. Now that's new.

No way is she going to let that happen.

He needs to learn. Learn to live without his so-called medicine which isn't curing his pain but instead making it worse. Jaanvi wouldn't even want Kiaan to depend himself on a human being, let alone alcohol. Even if he was her biggest enemy.

She feels his heartbeat bursting underneath her palms. If circumstances were different she'd joke about her presence distracting him. Though, Jaanvi wouldn't want him to play along because then she'd be red. 

She removes his hand from her shoulders and takes them in hers. Guiding him, as if a small child to the king-sized bed. She's not as naive as she might look. This assumption is always proven wrong when Jaanvi starts talking. To anyone. Her observant ability satisfies her because she feels his eyes watching her. 

She can feel it. Just don't feel anything else. She warns herself. 

Each moment Jaanvi feels his eyes on her back, as she walks him to the bed, she feels uncertain. Uncertain with herself. Her cheeks are going red for no reason. I'm getting flu. She reasons. His wife tells herself she shouldn't feel this weird sensation or feel insecure. 

But, unfortunately, Kiaan is the only people who makes her feel both insecure and secure. 

Getting the courage she looks up. Catching him red-handed. He's gawking her. That should boost her confidence and give her a topic to discuss with him during their future fights because she's sure they'll have heated arguments throughout their life, and use it to her benefit but it doesn't. 

She's left anxious. 

Jaanvi waits for him to break the eyecontact but as expected, Kiaan is shameless and doesn't consider giving up. He's lost, supposedly under the influnce of fatigue but it's still strange for her. "Lay down. I'll massage your head." Your big useless head. She wanted to add but thought better.

He lays his head on her lap. It's remarkable to see Kiaan following her instructions. He doesn't retort or pass another shady comment. He listens. 

Jaanvi is tentative to touch him. I mean, he is touching me. The kindness inside her blooms and perhaps a little likeness towards Kiaan too because she finds her fingers tangled in his hair. Her delicate and soft fingertips gently scratches his scalp as it roams in his head. 

He leans into her stomach. The back of his head. It's either comfort or familiarness of her husband because of their history, which is why she doesn't flinch. It's oddly okay. Normal. Even though it's not. She's never been this way with him. 

If Aditi was watching this she'll scoff and then whistle. And then dance. Told ya! She's say to Jaanvi. You don't hate him.

Kiaan's flexed muscles relax. He makes a small sound of delight and sleepiness. He yawns loudly. Instead of putting his hand over his mouth, he rolls his face in her lap. His warm breath making contact with her body. The only barrier is her fabric. 

She tenses but focusing on the good. He's listening to me. Definitely telling Adi about this. Maybe the world too!

The man is unpredictable to her. One second he's nice, understanding and funny and then the next he turns into a Hulk.

A red Hulk.

Wearing full clothes.

With a handsome face, I may add.

Surprisingly, Jaanvi understands where he was coming from. He was addicted. He is addicted. For years, the way he spoke about it, how he got drunk on their wedding night, this explains he's using it to reduce pain.

Pain that he's been hiding. The confusing part was, for her,  why hasn't he shared this pain with anyone? The grieve of some sort?  Why hasn't he tried to overcome it? Why does he think this bottle will help him?

He's close to Dhruv. Hasn't he tried to help his own brother?

Hasn't Kiaan spoken to his mum about what's bothering him?

His dad?

His baby sister who he treats like a princess. No one?

Why hasn't he done anything all his life to overcome this?

Her thoughts are interrupted by his head stirring in her lap. His stiff body has given up the battle and relaxes with a soothing rise of this chest as he breathes. Jaanvi watches in pride. He looks so peaceful sleeping. So innocent. Innocent my foot.  

His eyes open. Staring at her. Jaanvi stares back. Dubious. Kiaan leans closer to her lap, eyes closed, then she finally gets it. He's waiting for her to massage his head like before. 

After studying for years now this is my job. Massaging my alcohol-addicted husband's head. Wonderful. WONDERFUL! 

I'm a lazy person. I accepted, full-heartedly. She can't massage someone head for long, her hand tends to get tired but she can't tell him that. It's not kind. He's in need. I mean, he's not paralyzed but, Oh my God! What if he was? I could make him beg me for a glass of water. And perhaps, if he's a pain, then I could push his wheelchair down the stairs. Then the breaking news will be, 'New bride becomes a Widow overnight' (I'll kill him in the morning so the headline isn't familiar with other cases. So freaking smart!) 'Now the owner of husbands newly purchased Hotel.' I'M AMAZING!

Forgetting about it all because of her impatient husband groaning, she clicks her tongue at his annoyance but starts to work her hands over his forehead. She slowly starts to massage his head. Kiaan sends a satisfied hum in bliss. 

"You're massaging my head in the future." She mutters from the corner of her mouth. When Kiaan doesn't respond she adds, "it'll be your payback. I heard Kiaan Rajput doesn't own anyone anything."

One comment about his good quality and he grins half asleep. Ego boosted, Jaanvi notes. "Heard right," his voice is drowsy. "I'll massage your head in future, promise." 

He doesn't understand his small kind gesture has Jaanvi's heart thumping. Nobody, nobody has promised to look after her apart from her father, and of course Aditi. But this is different. Because he's not her father and nor her best friend. 

She brings her attention back to her husband. She can see her hands are working perfectly on his scalp. His steady breathing is a clear proof. It's even now. Precious. His hands aren't fisted anymore but open. Everything about him shows calmness. 

He looks peaceful. It's like he's a child with no tension. The worried, angry and out of control Kiaan is long gone. Angry bird is locked in a cage far away. The person laying on her lap is a carefree soul.

He's silent.

I like the silent Kiaan. Because he doesn't tempt her or make her go speechless. 

Don't have to hear his annoying loud voice when he's angry or taunting me.

No comebacks, no daggers, no gripping my arm.

By the time her hand gives up, he's fast asleep. She carefully moves his head from her lap to the soft bed. Getting up as quietly as she can without making any noise Jaanvi sighs. 

A few minutes ago I wanted to sleep. Now I was nowhere near sleeping. Reaching for her phone she calls Aditi to cut time.  

That's what friends are for, right?

"Hello?" Comes her sleepy voice after picking her phone on the eighth bell. 

"Adi? Are you sleeping?" She questions. Jaanvi's eyes directly drifting to the clock. It's two-thirty. 

"No, I'm actually cooking food, want some?" Clearly she's irritated. What the hell? Is this even a proper question? Someone please murder Jaanvi.

Jaanvi giggles to herself.  To irritate the sleeping beauty more, she asks, controlling her laughter, "baked cake?"

"Go to hell!" She yells hanging up on Jaanvi. 

She loves her sleep. A little too much. More than cake. Hard to believe but she prefers sleepover cake. Rude. How can anyone like anything more than cake? Disgraceful.

She wanted to roam around the house but the hallway creeps her out. Even if she turns all the lights on, her fear is still inside her. 

I can't get rid of it. Even Kiaan was asleep. What if I walk out and got lost? Or kidnapped by some witch? Chances are, no one will save me since he's asleep.

Giving up the idea of roaming around the place she gets in bed next to him. Praying not to have any nightmares.

Dream about unicorns. Was the last thing Jaanvi thought of before dozing off.

Married My Enemy

Edited On - 09/07/2020 ( At 7:53 PM)