of having to go out and face knowing looks from the rest of the household.
Vikram had been up for a while, evidently—his hair was damp from the shower and he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The muscles in his shoulders and chest strained against the thin material of the T-shirt as he moved, and Tara felt her mouth suddenly go dry.
‘I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself,’ Vikram said. ‘Will you be able to find your way to the dining room?’
It wasn’t a facetious question—the bungalowwas large, and had several interlinked verandas and corridors that it would be easy to lose one’s way in.
‘I’ll manage,’ Tara said, waiting until he left the room before she got out of bed and ran across the room to bolt the door behind him.
Her body ached in unfamiliar places, but her lips curved up in a smile. So far, so good, she thought. Vikram had turned out to be a surprisingly gentle and considerate lover—and she’d been right. All she’d needed was some more practice. She was positively looking forward to the honeymoon now.
Meeting Vikram’s parents on the ‘morning after’ turned out to be less embarrassing than she’d thought it would be—they were both acting perfectly normal, with no knowing looks, and neither of them asked her if she’d slept well.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you,’ Mr Krishnan said, smiling at her across the breakfast table. ‘Vikram wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and I need to leave for work in little while.’
‘You work way too hard,’ Mrs Krishnan scolded. ‘You could have taken the day off.No wonder Vikram works the crazy hours he does with you for an example.’
‘Compared to Vikram, I barely work,’ Mr Krishnan said drily. ‘We should all count ourselves lucky that it’s not
him
rushing off to work the day after his wedding.’
Mrs Krishnan frowned. ‘That will all change now that he’s married,’ she said. ‘Tara will make sure he gets home on time every day.’
‘Assuming she wants me home on time every day,’ Vikram said.
Tara barely restrained herself from saying that she didn’t care what hours he kept as long as he was home at night.
‘Of course she does,’ Mrs Krishnan said, and gave Tara an affectionate pat on the hand. ‘We’re really lucky to have you in the family. Vijay would have been so thrilled … He used to tease Vikram all the time, saying no one would want to marry a lawyer.’
There was a short silence, and Tara was about to ask who Vijay was when she looked across at Mrs Krishnan. She was sitting very still, her plate untouched in front of her, as tears slowly welled up in her eyes. Mr Krishnan got up and gently put his arm around her.
‘Vyjanthi,’ he said warningly. ‘Don’t start getting depressed now.’
Mrs Krishnan nodded and made a valiant attempt to control her expression, moving the tea things around the table and not looking up. Then her face crumpled, and she muttered, ‘I’m sorry …’ She hurried out of the room.
Vikram put down his coffee cup and went after her, leaving Tara and Mr Krishnan looking at each other.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ Mr Krishnan said, recovering first and patting Tara’s arm awkwardly. ‘Do excuse my wife. The strain’s been a bit too much for her. Ever since Vijay … It’s been very difficult for her.’
He evidently expected her to know who Vijay was, and Tara wasn’t sure how to break it to him that she didn’t have a clue.
Vikram returned a few minutes later. ‘Mum’s lying down,’ he said in answer to his father’s enquiring look. ‘She’s completely wrung out. She wanted to come back and say goodbye to Tara before we leave, but I said I’d apologise on her behalf.’
Mr Krishnan sighed heavily. ‘I’ll go to her,’ he said. ‘Have a good trip, both of you.’ He shook hands with Vikram and gave Tara a fatherlypat on the head before he left the room in search of his wife.
‘We should leave in half an hour,’ Vikram said, not
Vikram had been up for a while, evidently—his hair was damp from the shower and he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The muscles in his shoulders and chest strained against the thin material of the T-shirt as he moved, and Tara felt her mouth suddenly go dry.
‘I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself,’ Vikram said. ‘Will you be able to find your way to the dining room?’
It wasn’t a facetious question—the bungalowwas large, and had several interlinked verandas and corridors that it would be easy to lose one’s way in.
‘I’ll manage,’ Tara said, waiting until he left the room before she got out of bed and ran across the room to bolt the door behind him.
Her body ached in unfamiliar places, but her lips curved up in a smile. So far, so good, she thought. Vikram had turned out to be a surprisingly gentle and considerate lover—and she’d been right. All she’d needed was some more practice. She was positively looking forward to the honeymoon now.
Meeting Vikram’s parents on the ‘morning after’ turned out to be less embarrassing than she’d thought it would be—they were both acting perfectly normal, with no knowing looks, and neither of them asked her if she’d slept well.
‘I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you,’ Mr Krishnan said, smiling at her across the breakfast table. ‘Vikram wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and I need to leave for work in little while.’
‘You work way too hard,’ Mrs Krishnan scolded. ‘You could have taken the day off.No wonder Vikram works the crazy hours he does with you for an example.’
‘Compared to Vikram, I barely work,’ Mr Krishnan said drily. ‘We should all count ourselves lucky that it’s not
him
rushing off to work the day after his wedding.’
Mrs Krishnan frowned. ‘That will all change now that he’s married,’ she said. ‘Tara will make sure he gets home on time every day.’
‘Assuming she wants me home on time every day,’ Vikram said.
Tara barely restrained herself from saying that she didn’t care what hours he kept as long as he was home at night.
‘Of course she does,’ Mrs Krishnan said, and gave Tara an affectionate pat on the hand. ‘We’re really lucky to have you in the family. Vijay would have been so thrilled … He used to tease Vikram all the time, saying no one would want to marry a lawyer.’
There was a short silence, and Tara was about to ask who Vijay was when she looked across at Mrs Krishnan. She was sitting very still, her plate untouched in front of her, as tears slowly welled up in her eyes. Mr Krishnan got up and gently put his arm around her.
‘Vyjanthi,’ he said warningly. ‘Don’t start getting depressed now.’
Mrs Krishnan nodded and made a valiant attempt to control her expression, moving the tea things around the table and not looking up. Then her face crumpled, and she muttered, ‘I’m sorry …’ She hurried out of the room.
Vikram put down his coffee cup and went after her, leaving Tara and Mr Krishnan looking at each other.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ Mr Krishnan said, recovering first and patting Tara’s arm awkwardly. ‘Do excuse my wife. The strain’s been a bit too much for her. Ever since Vijay … It’s been very difficult for her.’
He evidently expected her to know who Vijay was, and Tara wasn’t sure how to break it to him that she didn’t have a clue.
Vikram returned a few minutes later. ‘Mum’s lying down,’ he said in answer to his father’s enquiring look. ‘She’s completely wrung out. She wanted to come back and say goodbye to Tara before we leave, but I said I’d apologise on her behalf.’
Mr Krishnan sighed heavily. ‘I’ll go to her,’ he said. ‘Have a good trip, both of you.’ He shook hands with Vikram and gave Tara a fatherlypat on the head before he left the room in search of his wife.
‘We should leave in half an hour,’ Vikram said, not
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