Codename lotus, p.12
Codename Lotus, page 12
I hesitated. It made no sense, and then suddenly, it did. That day in the garden when she’d had that panic attack. “That’s…why you asked me about the…”
“Originally meant to soothe, the mere hint of a smell can send me into a frenzy. Lavender is my fear scent.”
“Oh.”
The vulnerability behind that statement struck me. Confessing something like that to another was not only dangerous but required an absurd amount of trust, which had just been placed upon me.
And here Saanya was, pregnant. Sitting right in front of me, unguarded. What could be more vulnerable than that?
“He would purposefully taunt me into fights. And, well, Manish angry was equal to a monster.” She sighed. “The scents were always in the background. Candles. Flowers. Dabbed on his skin.”
I listened. Outwardly calm, but inwardly simmering. “Saanya—” I started and stopped myself.
“Tell me,” she murmured.
“Isn’t there a way to change your association with these scents?”
“Probably. Therapy, perhaps? I am usually very careful, though they aren’t entirely unavoidable. Osmanthus is…submission, I think. It makes me compliant. Quiet. Its effect on me is calming…too calming. And tuberose.” She blushed. “That’s different. It was meant to arouse…me. To remind me of…intimate moments.” Saanya looked down. As if she wanted to bury her head in the ground. “Manish hated that I refused intimacy at first. At the time, I wanted us to know each other better, to let things happen naturally. I knew I would eventually have to do it. I had prepared myself mentally to see it as simply sex.”
“Oh, Saanya...”
“Remember how I told you that he made me want…it?”
“He weaponized your senses against you,” I said. Utterly sickening.
I understood her longing stares out the window now. He’d left her trapped in her own mind, victim to her own fears. The scumbag had left her fearing a plant.
“You have to understand. It was eight years of this. By the time I realized the extent of his control, I was already conditioned to respond the way he wanted.” Saanya bit the inside of her cheek. “Constantly walking on eggshells, terrified that the slightest misstep would set him off. I started double-checking that the stove was off before I left the house, making sure I had blown out a candle even though I knew I had. That’s when I realized what he had done. I could no longer trust myself.”
Her voice faltered for a moment, as if even admitting this out loud made the betrayal feel fresh. I watched her, and something in my chest sank.
“He played me like a fool.”
“What he did is beyond logic,” I said. “How could anyone see that coming?”
“Yeah, well.” She looked down. “I should’ve seen him coming.”
“He deserved the end he got,” I said. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She gave me a bleak smile. “What a turn for the morbid. I’m sorry. I ruined our evening.”
“Nonsense. I was the one who asked. I am sorry, Saanya. I didn’t imagine it would be related to him.”
She leaned back, exhaling. “Nothing a good cup of masala chai can’t fix.”
I mirrored her smile. “You down those like they’re a tonic.”
She stood and stretched, moving toward the kitchen. “Oh, but they’re better,” she called as she disappeared into it.
She didn’t ask if I wanted any—probably assuming I wouldn’t. Which, given our history, was a fair assumption.
“Pure amrita!” she called from afar.
“Elixir of the Gods,” I murmured to myself. “Tempting.”
I couldn’t see her from where I sat, and a part of me wanted to refuse just to keep things as they were. To keep the lines drawn, the walls intact.
But something else, something I couldn’t quite name, made me speak.
“Make me one,” I called back.
Seconds later, she reappeared at the threshold of the kitchen, smiling as if we hadn’t been poking at her painful past.
If she was deflecting, I couldn’t tell.
How did she still have hope in her eyes? After everything.
“You’re having masala chai?”
I lifted a shoulder, turning my attention to the television screen. “Why not? It’s just tea.”
Not long after, Saanya returned.
I wrapped my fingers around the warm cup, the heat sinking into my skin. But when I took my first sip, a creamy mélange of cardamom, cloves, and spices wrapped a pair of warm arms around my heart.
I swallowed, slowly, deliberately. I had been in a mood for days due to Thera Corp taking longer than expected, but somehow, that moment had a disarming effect.
Saanya took a sip, watching me with the barest hint of amusement. “Well?”
I didn’t answer—just sipped again. “Hm. Not bad.”
Saanya laughed. “Oi, Naomi. Not bad?”
“All right. It’s…acceptable.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes were half-lidded and bright as she leaned on the back of the sofa, close to where my hand was, and glanced at the TV. “Shall we continue? The best part is when they get to execute the heist.”
I felt a smile coming. “A meticulously planned takeover. How could I say no to that?”
Saanya unpaused the movie, and I found myself observing her.
As the film progressed, we chatted intermittently, sharing light banter. Her laughter was infectious, and I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time.
When the end credits started to roll, I turned to say something, only to find her asleep. She looked peaceful, her breathing even and calm.
I reached for a blanket draped over the back of the sofa and covered her.
The moment should have passed easily, but I stayed for a moment longer, wondering why I felt…steadier.
It had to be the chai. Of course, it had to be.
11
SECRETS
NAOMI
The sun spilled through the kitchen window as I went in search of reprieve. Six hours of calls had left my brain numb and my eyes dry as sand.
I didn’t expect to find Saanya there, watching Lea’s children arc back and forth on the swing set, a cup of masala chai steaming in her hand. The scent had become a private indulgence of mine, though she drank it whenever she pleased.
I paused beside her. Outside, the scene looked unreal for my garden: two small blurs of laughter and limbs.
She turned, smiling. “Hey. Fancy some chai?”
I kept my gaze on the swing set. “I don’t want them to stop the second they see me.”
“Afraid they’ll be intimidated by the evil old lady?” she teased.
“Evil? Old? And last week I was butch? Is this how you flirt with women? I’m surprised you didn’t call me ugly.”
She flushed. “Oh, come off it. That was figurative. Besides, you’re gorgeous, Naomi. You’ve nothing to worry about.” She caught herself, grin turning wicked. “And trust me, if I were flirting, you’d know.”
I slid a hand in my pocket. “I’m afraid any such efforts would be wasted on this evil, butch? Almost-married old woman.”
“You’re not butch—or old or evil. You’re not even a lesbian.”
“That I am not.”
“And if you were, you would be a power femme. Definitely not butch. But it’s probably best you aren’t gay. The universe might implode.”
“Implode, huh?” I lifted a brow, playing along with Saanya’s silly little banter.
“Yes. Same reason why Cate Blanchett isn’t. The balance must be preserved somehow.”
That made me laugh.
She sighed. “Come, I just brewed the tea.”
She moved to the stove and poured me a cup, the creamy heat washing down my throat and climbing through my ribs.
We had started drinking it each morning while she watched the sunrise from the kitchen.
Saanya stared in anticipation as I swallowed.
“Good?”
“Oh, you know it is.”
I took another sip and leaned against the counter, my eyes once again drawn to the children playing outside. An idea formed before I could dismiss it. “We should grill something,” I suggested. “What do you think?”
She paused mid-sip. “What?”
“A barbecue,” I said. “Why not?”
“Are you serious?”
“We could invite Lea and her children. Make an evening of it. It’s the least I can do after scaring the wits out of them the other day.”
“I—” Saanya’s lips parted. “But you—” She shook her head. “Naomi, what I said earlier, it was a joke.”
“Ah, your superlative compliments?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head again. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”
“It’s quite all right. But I was there. I know what I said and the looks on their faces.” I sighed. “I don’t want children. But I am not Hansel and Gretel’s worst nightmare.”
“The witch.”
“Exactly, which is what they might be seeing me as now.”
Saanya turned and watched them too. “I doubt it. They are innocent sweethearts.”
“Well, perhaps they would fancy veggie burgers and hot dogs,” I said, just as the younger girl shoved the boy.
So much for innocent sweethearts.
When I made to take another sip, I found Saanya’s gleaming eyes staring at me.
“What?” I asked, lowering my cup.
“Veggie burgers.” Saanya’s smile was conspicuous.
“What about them?”
“You remembered I don’t eat beef,” she said. “Aw, that was very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Naomi.”
I rolled my eyes.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the garden came alive with the sounds of laughter, the sizzle of the grill, and the clinking of glasses.
Thankfully, Lea proved to be quite the grill master. Not that anyone could have avoided the unmistakable odor of burning charcoal, though. My shirt was probably ruined if the cleaners couldn’t salvage it. At least Lea’s little monkeys seemed to be enjoying themselves.
The boy, Mikkel, in a moment of bravado, tried to shove an entire hot dog into his mouth after making a bet with his sister, Emma, who I’d noticed loved to push and punch.
Later, after I’d finally convinced Saanya to go for a walk, we left the clatter behind and wandered deeper into the garden—into the part I rarely visited anymore.
One easy step after another, Saanya threw her head back and laughed.
“I am serious!” I said. The lingering scent of flowers filled the air, their sweetness permeating the twilight. “That girl is nothing short of Helga’s photocopy.”
“Oh, Naomi.” Saanya laughed, wrapping her dupatta snugly around her shoulders. “Emma doesn’t resemble her grandmother in the slightest.”
“Looks are deceiving.”
We rounded a stand of trees, and she stopped. “My God. What is that?”
The way her eyes widened and how her attention locked onto it as if pulled…
I knew exactly what it was.
Through the branches, glass and black iron glinted—half swallowed by vines. A familiar weight pulled at my chest.
“My mother’s greenhouse,” I said—or did I whisper it? The words felt foreign, dragging up a tide I’d buried. It was as if I had just started to ache. Vines webbed the roof; the old finials still held their posture. Even abandoned, it was beautiful.
But once a symbol of my mother’s devotion to her garden, it now looked nothing like it used to.
“It’s lovely,” she murmured.
“Let’s head back,” I said, heat prickling my neck.
We hadn’t gone far when I noticed goosebumps spreading on Saanya’s forearms.
“Are you cold? Here, take this.” I shrugged off my jacket. We were a long walk from the house. The nearest garden light was a distant blur.
She took it, sliding it over her shoulders.
We passed a low bed of blooms, and she stopped dead. Her face blanched, her steps faltering as if the air had turned to stone.
“Saanya, are you all right?”
Nothing.
Her eyes went wide, glassy and unfocused. “I—” Her throat worked like she couldn’t pull air in properly.
I searched her face. “Saanya.”
My heart kicked up a beat. Something was wrong.
“N-Naomi—” It broke out of her like a spill. “It’s him.”
Her eyes pooled, and my mind raced as a powdery sweetness cut through the damp air.
The scents.
My stomach dropped as it clicked.
Lavender.
I swept my gaze around. They were everywhere.
How—?
“Saanya, listen to me.” I grabbed her arms, searching her eyes. “You’re safe. Do you hear me?”
It was as if she had checked out, trapped in whatever lies her mind was telling her. Her ice-cold fingers clamped around my wrists. She was trembling like a leaf in my arms.
I freed one hand, brushed hair from her temple.
White-hot rage rose within me as I grasped the depth of that bastard’s psychological torment. “God, what has he done to you?”
I thought to call for help. Lea, maybe. And have an audience? No. What could she do that I couldn’t?
Sid.
Yes, he probably knew what to do.
I patted my thighs, then my back pocket, and realized where my phone was—on the garden table, where I’d set it after snapping a picture of Saanya and the kids.
“Shit.”
I tightened my grip, set my voice low but unyielding. “Saanya. Look at me.” Her gaze skittered. I gave her shoulders a sharp shake—enough to startle, not harm her or the baby. “He’s dead. Gone. He cannot touch you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? Manish is dead, and you are safe!” I shook her one last time, and Saanya’s wet, petrified eyes immediately darted to mine.
“Yes, that’s it. Look at me. Focus on me.”
“Dead,” she sobbed.
“That’s right.”
“He’s dead.” She swallowed hard, still shaking as she clutched her stomach. “I feel sick.”
“There’s a bench.” I steered her to it. “Sit. Breathe with me. In—out.”
We matched pace. Slowly, the lock on her chest eased, and color returned to her cheeks.
She glanced down at my wrist and flinched. “Naomi—I’m so sorry.”
Her fingers were almost white when she finally released me. I noticed the marks on my skin. “Forget that. Are you feeling better?”
Her nostrils flared, though she looked steadier by the second. “It’s mortifying,” she said, breath hitching. “And so bloody frustrating.”
“Can you walk?” I asked.
She nodded and drew herself up. “Yes. I can.”
I kept beside her, my jacket still around her shoulders, the scent of lavender thinning behind us in the dark.
12
THE FEELS
SAANYA
I sat at the kitchen table, watching my phone vibrate against the tabletop. Sidharth’s name flashed on the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
I slid my fingers along the cold glass of water, grounding myself in the sensation. My hands and face still didn’t feel like my own.
The door clicked softly. Her faint perfume reached me first.
“Where are Lea and the kids?” I asked.
“They’ve gone home.” Naomi rinsed her hands at the sink, then turned to dry them on a towel. “I told them you needed to rest.”
“I’m sorry for ruining the night.” I couldn’t hold Naomi’s gaze.
I loathed the panic attacks. The way they drained me and left me bracing for the next one. And now she’d seen it.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter, her face unreadable. “It was my oversight. We never had lavender here, but apparently Helga planted some last year.”
“You couldn’t have known. Besides, I’m the one with the problem.” I let out a small, bitter laugh. “It’s not a normal reaction to a lovely flower. It’s bloody ridiculous.”
“I should have had them both fired.”
“Oh, please don’t do that,” I said.
She could do it.
She would.
A brief silence fell. Naomi glanced toward the glass doors—out to the dark garden—then back to the stove where a pot sat unused. She gathered some vegetables from the refrigerator.
I watched her search the cabinets. “What are you doing?” I asked, despite my screaming fatigue.
“You barely ate. I’m making you something.”
“Naomi—”
“It’s pointless to argue. I’m making you a meal.”
I stayed there, quiet. Watching.
Earlier, while Lea flipped the veggie burgers and hot dogs on the grill, I’d noticed Naomi dodging the smoke. Her gorgeous shirt probably smelled like my saree now, but the sizzle of spices in the pan wove a blanket of care around me.
She stirred with one hand, tucking a stray lock behind her ear with the other. It was so ordinary, so unlike the Naomi I’d known, that I almost forgot to breathe.
She set a steaming plate in front of me, fragrant with spices and creamy lentils that warmed my heart. And the two buttery rotis on the plate made me smile. Coming from the queen of low-carb? It was better than magic. My stomach growled.
“You made dal makhani for me. From scratch. What? You said you couldn’t cook.”
“My mother taught me a few dishes.” She sat at my side, not taking a plate for herself. “I’m not particularly good at it.”
“Do you mind if I—?”
She gestured for me to go ahead.
I took my first bite, and it was like warmth melting inside me. “Oh…are you kidding? This is delicious. It tastes like…home.”
There was a faint trace of pleasure in her eyes. In typical Naomi fashion, she refrained from any sentimental comment. No thank-yous.
It wasn’t in the words; it was a genuine closeness with another person—something I didn’t know I needed. Something I hadn’t realized I wanted this badly.
