-• she's my wife •-

Taranya

In the darkest hours of the night, the last thing I imagined myself doing was to help my brother and husband remove the traces of a homicide I committed. My hands have been shaking from the moment I pulled the trigger. I have been hiding them from the men, but every time I saw the body, my heart had kicked up faster and faster inside my chest.

Manohar was a monster.

He deserved what happened to him, and yet I couldn't brush off the fact that I killed him. I killed someone. I took a life. I broke the law.

I shouldn't be feeling guilty at all.

But I can't help it.

Rudra and my brother are calm, there's no trace of fear on their faces, not a line of wrinkles on their foreheads. As if this is another day at work, repeating through the same steps in a rather monotonous way, waiting to return home and drink a glass of scotch before going to bed.

As Rudra uncaps the kerosene canister, standing over the dead body with the calmest expression on his face, I turn around and walk back inside the farmhouse. Virendra lifts his head when I approach him. I sit down next to him on the stairs and dig through my purse. Grabbing a bottle of water, I take a long sip.

"Can I have some?"

I tilt the bottle to his mouth. He chugs down more than half of the water.

Pulling away, I close the cap and stuff the bottle back inside my bag. "If you co-operate with the investigation and serve your time well, there's a chance you might get out on parole before your sentence is over. This is your first offense, at least first that is recognised in the court. Shourya will get you the best attorney. They'll focus on your clean record and gambling addiction. Confess, plead and you'll be charged with minimum 20 years imprisonment."

"And if they send me in for life imprisonment?" He asks softly.

I shake my head. "They won't. You've been living as a model citizen for the last fifty years. You've done charities, donated millions of dollars, built homes for less fortunate, all that you did for the sake of your image, will help you improve your image in the court. You were also drinking before the murder happened. Tell them your morals were compromised, and you regret what happened."

"Will my status help?"

I nod. "There's a chance your father might cut off all the connections with you once you admit to the crime. But Shourya will keep in touch. He'll pay for the attorneys and he'll make sure you get the lowest sentence possible."

"Okay," he sighs in defeat. "Tell me what should I do?"

I shift slightly to face him. He looks at me impassively, torn down by the fate I imposed on him. The guilt grows. I'm about to blame the murder I committed on someone else. He'll serve jail time on my behalf, he'll take the punishment that is supposed to be for me. My throat closes up. I touch the cross on my neck, and force a swallow. I shouldn't be wearing this. I shouldn't be remembering God after what I did. I don't deserve his mercy. I don't deserve to give any excuses or justifications.

"Tara?" He speaks up, and I blink, coming out of the daze.

"You received the request on the dark web. My brother has taken care of it. You don't know who asked you to kill him. You needed the money and he offered you. You accepted it in the heat of the moment. He transferred you the amount. Then you thought over more and regretted the decision. You tried to return it, he told you to keep it for twenty hours in case your mind changes. When you arrived here with Manohar, you were unsure. It's when you got drunk and he started to taunt you over your gambling addiction that you lost composure. Shourya will tell the court he usually keeps a licensed gun on him 24/7, and an extra in all the places he frequents to, like his offices, guesthouses, and the palace. He'll switch this gun with the one we used, so it looks like you didn't bring a gun on you, and used your son's instead. After you killed him, you were barely able to stand. It was when you woke up that you realised what you did. Panicked, you tried to cover up the murder, but the guilt of taking a life didn't let you sleep. That's the story. And that's what you'll keep repeating to the prosecutor." I tell him. "Zoya and my brother will help you practice so you don't make a mistake." He nods softly.

"I'm good at lying. I'm sure I'll convince the court."

"I'll visit you once you're sentenced to the prison."

"Why?" He raises a brow. "To apologise?"

"No, to give you the contact number you can use to get in touch with me after the court releases you."

He hums.

I look ahead, wringing my fingers together as I notice the orange glow coming from the windows of the backyard.

"Manohar has committed several crimes. Will that help me in the court?"

"Like what?"

"Like rape and pedophilia, isn't that obvious?" He snorts.

"I meant, do you have any proof?" I question in response.

"Yeah, I do."

"Shourya will take them to the attorney." I reply.

"You look like you're regretting killing him," he muses thoughtfully after a minute long stretched silence.

"No, I don't."

"Then why do I see guilt on your face?" He retorts.

I look him in the eyes. "Because they are two different things. I don't regret killing him, but I'm guilty for having to take the law in my hands. I do not have that power. I've offended God, and I have enough shame left in me to admit that."

He continues to stare at me, then nods looking fascinated. "This is why I never liked humanity. A fucking weakness."

I smile humourlessly. "If it was a weakness, the world wouldn't be alive and thriving right now. It would be in shambles, and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a human and an animal." Getting off the staircase, I walk up to my bag, and haul it over my shoulder, leaving the farmhouse and him behind. Stashing my things in the trunk, I slam the boot shut before sliding inside the passenger seat, staring out at the moonless sky.

I don't realise when I fall asleep. But I wake up to the gentle sway of the car and the air wish-whooshing through my open locks. I pull away from the window, dropping my head on the seat. My eyes flutter open to the darkness outside.

I look to my right. Rudra drives quietly, his face sombre.

"Are you okay?" I ask in a whisper.

He flinches slightly, almost swerving the car off lane.

I sit straight. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay. I was lost in thoughts." He mumbles, not taking his eyes off the road. "And yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?" He glances at me for a split second.

I hum. "Where were you?"

His knuckles coil around the steering wheel tightly. "Hiding."

I shake my head. "Don't say that." My hand reaches out to cup his bicep. "Are you really okay?"

He shrugs.

"When the news gets out, I'll have to be with Shourya to explain things. He considers Virendra his father." I bring up hesitantly.

Rudra's jaw works. He pulls off a hand from the steering, rests his elbow on the window and rubs his jaw. "Can we have sex tonight?" The question takes me aback. I stare at him stunned. "I really have a lot going on inside my head. Help me get out of there." He looks my way, his eyes hoping I comply.

"Uh, why would you make it weird by asking?" I frown.

He looks confused. "The night has been particularly hard on both of us. You might want to sleep. I didn't want to try anything that you don't want."

Oh.

Sex hasn't crossed my mind in the last two days. And I had no plans for it tonight either. I'm happy he is here, and I'd love it if we spend some time cuddling and sleeping. I wanted to talk to him. Maybe tell him I'm scared shitless of the consequences after committing a first degree offense. That I'm not sure Virendra will keep his words and not expose me to the authorities. Fuck, I'm losing my mind.

"Yeah, of course, I missed you too." I force a smile at him.

He smiles back and looks back at the road, speeding up to reach home faster.

"I forgot about the tyre marks-"

"Don't worry about it anymore." Rudra reaches out to cup my vibrating thigh. I didn't even notice it was shaking until his hand stopped me. "Yuvraaj, Zoya and Amir will take care of everything else. We already have alibis. And there'll be nothing at the farmhouse that'll bring suspicion to any third person. You did a good job."

Good job?

I killed someone.

I tortured a man for hours before putting four bullets through his body.

My hand flies to my cross. Unclasping the chain, I stuff it inside my purse. Rudra watches me with a frown but doesn't say anything. I had only recently started to wear a cross, I didn't know I'll be removing it so soon.

Should I go to the church and beg for forgiveness?

Is my sin even worthy of forgiving?

"Are we not going home?" I ask him when we take a detour to the city.

He shakes his head. "I've booked us a room at the hotel. I think it's better to stay out than go home so late in the night."

I nod in response.

He takes us to the renowned, five star hotel running under the banner of Rajawat Group of Hotels and Resorts. The valet takes the keys from him, and we step up the marble stairs. A doorman opens the doors for us.

Long, sturdy, Corinthian columns separate the entrance from the lobby. Smooth marble flooring stretches underneath our feet as we make our way towards the reception and stop at the polished, golden granite desk. The walls are painted golden, except for the white ceiling. In the centre of it hangs an expensive, intricately webbed, huge glass chandelier. From the interiors to the staff uniforms, everything here is comprised of gold and white.

The receptionist tags a conceirge along with us. The young man assists us to our room, informing us of the breakfast time, restaurants in the hotel, gym, and the intercom numbers we can use to get in touch with housekeeping, room service and front desk. I'm sure they know the man they're attending is the owner of the hotel, but it must be a decorum to follow the script no matter who the guest is.

He opens the suite for us, and walks up to the floor to ceiling glass walls. Pushing open the curtains, he ties them on the either side, wishes us good night, takes the tip Rudra gives him with a polite thankyou and leaves the room.

"I'll take a shower first." I drop my things on the bed and enter the bathroom, frenzied to get any invisible traces of murder off my skin. But are they ever leaving me? They're invisible because they cannot be removed. I'm a murderer. Nothing's changing that.

Turning off the shower, I grab a towel and get into a silk cami shorts and a tank top. Rudra's eyes find me when I step out of the bathroom, the heat reviving in his ebony chasms. Clenching his jaw, he yanks a towel from the cupboard and heads inside past me.

I chase the city lights, stopping in front of the wall. The restlessness in my head settles down for a bit, I feel slightly at peace. My breathing comes out in harsh pants. It clouds up against the glass like a steam. I trace the initials of my name in it.

The mist disappears.

Stealing my name along.

I drop my forehead on the glass, the events of the day flooding back in my head. I need an escape. I need to forget everything. But how-

A gasp leaves my mouth when a hard body presses into me from behind. I curl my hand over the glass, closing my eyes as Rudra slides my hair over my right shoulder, and his mouth sinks into the nook of my neck.

Maybe this is what I need too?

To get out of my head for a while?

To forget everything that happened and just live in the moment with the man I love?

My hand reaches up to cup his nape, and I drop my head on his shoulder, breathing out a moan as he cups my breasts, squeezing them gently. I turn around in his embrace and rise on my tip toes, holding his face in my hands and yanking him down so our lips meet too. He wraps an arm around my waist, the other glides down my hip, hooking around my thigh and he hikes me up, my legs lock around his torso. He slams me against the wall behind, pins my hands next to my head, and rests his forehead over mine, staring intensely into my eyes.

Then he rolls his hips into mine and the contours of his dick rubs me between the legs.

My mouth falls open with a moan.

He kisses me again, deeper, his mouth opening on mine, tongue escaping their confines to meet my own. Breathless, we pull away, and I toss my head back, unbothered as it hits and a sting shoots up my temple. His mouth does a good job at distracting me from the pain as it drags down my throat, before he tears open my blouse and tugs my breasts out of the bra, taking the hardened nipple in his mouth without wasting a second.

"To the bed." I tell him, breathless, struggling to catch my breath. "Take me to the bed."

"No." He growls, slamming his mouth on mine again. I moan. "I want to fuck you here. In front of the entire city."

"Okay," I nod. "Then fuck me. Hard. Fuck me like you hate me, please."

He stops to look into my eyes and siezes my jaw in his deft, long fingers. "I fucking hate how much I love you."

I smile, the exact words on the tip of my tongue. I resist.

"Show me." I challenge him.

And he obeys.

He shows me exactly how much he hates loving me by fucking me raw until I choke on my own tears. He fucks me against the wall, on the God damn table, in front of the fireplace and then one last time on the bed.

I know what we're doing.

We're avoiding a breakdown. We're avoiding our reality. And maybe that's exactly what we need until everything falls apart and comes back together. We can't fall weak. Not now. Not yet.

I fall asleep due to exhaustion. He cuddles me to sleep.

By the time I wake up, my body is sore, the sun is shining brightly in the sky, and the sound of running shower tells me where my husband is. I get off the bed, take a towel from the cupboard, turn the knob of the bathroom and find it open. Hooking the towel, I slide open the door. Rudra spins around in surprise. "Good morning," I smile, walking into his arms that open to make room for me.

"Good morning," his mouth comes down on mine for a toe curling kiss. Pulling away, he squirts out a bodywash on his palm and lathers it on my body. I sigh softly, resting the side of my head on his shoulder as he cleans me. "I've an important meeting tonight. I might be home late."

"Will you even be home for the next few days?" I deadpan.

"Perhaps, no." He sighs in defeat. "But you've done enough. All you need to do is sit back, and let me take care of the rest."

I nod softly.

And I do that.

I go by my usual day as if nothing's wrong with me. As if I didn't turn into a murderer overnight. To keep myself busy, I accompany Agastya during his first meeting with the counsellor. His wit and playfulness helps me stay in the moment.

Two days later, the entire country goes into chaos. Virendra Singh Rajawat tops every headline, trends on every social media app, covers the front page of every national and international newspaper. As a reporter, I have to watch my fellow colleagues give the news update on my fake father-in-law's murder case.

I hate Virendra Singh Rajawat

I had no emotional attachment with the man.

But watching him go through what was supposed to be my fate makes me want to find a damn corner and cry my lungs out.

I'm a horrible person.

I'm a horrible horrible person.

The verdict isn't announced on the first trial. The Chairman tries everything to get his son out unscathed, and Rudra pretends to do the same, but Virendra's confession leaves the old man helpless.

"Do you think he'll be imprisoned for life?" Shourya asks me worriedly, pacing the living room back and forth. Tomorrow is the second trial of the murder case, and the verdict is supposedly to be announced at the same time. Rudra told me the attorney has done his best to reduce the sentence, but there's a chance things might go awry.

"I don't know," I whisper, focusing on peeling the oranges for him. "You should eat something."

"I can't." He plops down on the couch and drops his head in his hands. "I may not remember him but he's still my father. Tara, I'm worried. Am I still under threat? I really want to go back. Be there for my family."

I sigh softly. "I've no idea. If things were alright, Rudra and Bhai would have said so."

"I don't trust Rudra." He states, rejecting the plate of fruits I offer him with a shake of his head.

I look at him anxiously. "Why?"

"He looks like me." Shourya mutters. "I can't trust him with the power and position that's mine."

"He's a good man." I say under my breath.

Shourya doesn't speak further.

The doorbell rings and I get up from the couch, walking up to the door. Rudra stands in front of me, looking absolutely haggard and exhausted. My hand almost reaches out to tame the wind ruffled hair but I stop myself. This is not the place.

"Let's go home," he says.

I frown. "I- I can't. Shourya needs me."

"Shourya is not a fucking baby. Pack up and let's go back home." He walks inside the house past me. I release a strangled breath, close the door and follow him inside.

Shourya gets up when he sees Rudra. "Why are you here?"

"To take her back home."

"I want her to stay the night." Shourya states.

"It's not safe." Rudra counters.

"Not safe?" Shourya scoffs. "I'm her husband, Rudra. If she's safe somewhere, then it's with me."

I see Rudra's hands curl into fists. Swallowing the growing nervousness, I walk in and stand in front of the two men.

"Let's not-"

"Your father has committed a murder. The suspicion comes on everyone. And everyone is called for an interrogation. Tara can't keep disappearing so frequently, especially when the public's eyes are on us. She needs to be home and follow her regular schedule." Rudra explains curtly. Okay, makes sense. "Pack up, Tara. We're going home." I turn to go upstairs.

"She's not going anywhere."

I stop.

Rudra's jaw works, his molars grind harshly.

"Tara, stop wasting time." He pins me with a glare. "Go and get your stuff."

"Careful how you speak to my wife." Shourya grabs my wrist and brings me next to him.

Fuck.

Things are about to go downhill.

And I'm too fucking tired to deal with this right now.

"Your wife?" Rudra steps closer, towering over Shourya by a mere few inches. His lips curl into a smirk, and he tilts his head to the side, mockingly "What do you remember about your wife?"

Shourya frowns.

"You don't know shit about your wife, do you?" He sneers, his eyes pulsing with rage.

"Rudra-" I go to stop him but he shifts his eyes towards me and I swallow.

"You know why?" He looks back at Shourya, eyeing the man like he's a pest stuck to his shoes.

"Rudra, don't!" I hiss, stepping in between them and pushing him back.

"Because she's not your wife."

"Rudra!" I snap.

"She's my wife." Rudra smirks.

Sheesh, the cat is out of the bag.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.