Codename lotus, p.18
Codename Lotus, page 18
“I decided not to wake him. Everyone already thinks I’m your sister’s husband, so I might as well play the part.”
Our banter was light, but there was an undercurrent of truth in my words. I had indeed become an unexpected pillar in Saanya’s life, and strangely, I didn’t mind.
Sidharth’s tone shifted. “Listen, I’ve got news. The police caught the Hawk.”
A long breath left me. My hands eased on the wheel. “Finally.”
It was relief for Saanya’s immediate safety. But deep down, it was personal now. The danger that lurked in the shadows, threatening her, had been weighing on my mind. It seemed as though lately I lived on the edge of stress and my survival instincts—only those instincts were now responsible for two lives besides my own.
The Hawk was scum of the earth, but he wasn’t the head of the snake. We still had no idea who those swamp rats were working for. At least the ugliest set of claws was caged.
“I’ll call the Met commissioner first thing. He was a friend of my father—” I started to say—and stopped. My name couldn’t be anywhere near this. “Sid, better to do it cleanly,” I said instead. “No names, no traceable favors. If they can push for solidarity, good. But nothing that leads back here.”
“Understood. At least we can breathe a little easier.”
Pulling up to Swiss Delights, I hung up the call, but my mind was partly on Saanya. I ordered the vegetarian Rösti Burger and, bizarrely, felt…proud. Of a greasy paper bag. Of this absurd domestic errand. Of the fact that she would smile.
Driving back, the roads felt less hostile. The car, less alien. Perhaps it wasn’t about the car at all.
Her face lit up when she saw the bag. Worth it, I thought. And—God help me—I smiled.
From my desk, the glass wall gave me a clear view of the living room. My eyes flicked up from my laptop occasionally while half-listening to the voice droning on from the speakerphone. The call was important—discussing the renewal plan of my latest acquisition, Thera Corp—but part of my mind was elsewhere, drawn to the quiet figure of Saanya wandering about the house.
Dressed in a kurta, she moved with effortless stillness.
As I watched, she paused mid-step near the sofa, hand flying to her chest. Her expression pinched.
It happened so fast—her knees dipped, and she grabbed the back of the sofa.
I flew out of my office and reached her in a few strides. “Saanya?” My hand closed around her forearm, steady. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t know.” Her breaths were shallow. “I feel strange.”
This wasn’t a panic attack. When those happened, Saanya looked almost catatonic. This time, she was fully present, distressed.
“Lea!” I called. “Bring water—now!”
We eased her onto the cushions. My heart was beating out of my chest as I called Dr. Keller. Her instructions were clipped and clear: get Saanya to the emergency department immediately.
I hung up, and Saanya’s fingers found mine, ice cold. Her eyes searched my face, wide and bright with fear. “I’m scared, Naomi. What if something’s wrong? What if—” Her voice broke. “My baby…”
I leaned in, anchoring my voice. “Look at me. Take a deep breath.” She inhaled, and I matched her. “We’re going to the hospital. Don’t think. Just breathe.” My thumb brushed her knuckles, grounding her—and me.
I kept holding her hand. Whatever came next, I’d be there.
17
DIWALI
SAANYA
A few things changed after that scare. When we returned from the doctor’s office, Naomi closed the door behind us, her gaze lingering on me like she was counting my breaths.
“Thank you, Naomi,” I said softly, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
She just nodded, her usual poise masking a worry that hadn’t quite left her eyes. I started toward the kitchen. Her voice caught me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m…going to the kitchen.”
“To cook a meal?” Her eyebrows drew together. “The doctor said rest. So, no.”
I laughed. “Excuse me?”
“No,” she repeated, firm but calm. “I’m serious, and so is the risk of developing preeclampsia.”
“Naomi, it’s just standing by the stove—”
“Then I’ll ask Lea.”
“I wanted to make dal,” I said. Her protectiveness was endearing, and so attractive. I smiled. “I don’t think Lea would be as proficient at that.”
Naomi sighed, relenting slightly. “Then I’ll order it. But you’re not doing anything.” She took my hand.
Still laughing, I let her lead me to the sofa. All I could think about was the feel of her hand holding mine.
“Well, if I’m to follow doctor’s orders, you are to spoil me. Sit and watch a film with me.”
“What?” Amusement and disbelief mixed in her voice. “We’ve already done that, remember? Your heist movie.”
I laughed. She had such an awkward streak when it came to socializing normally.
“Naomi, that was one movie, out of probably millions in existence. One isolated incident that can be repeated. Indefinitely. We’re not crossing a checklist.”
“Saanya—”
“You heard me. It’s only fair if you’re turning into a tyrant when it comes to rest. Sit and watch a film with me.”
“You and your films,” she scoffed, and…sat. “What are we watching?”
In true Naomi fashion, I cocked an eyebrow. “You mean to say, what Bollywood movie are we watching?”
She groaned theatrically. “Oh God,” she said, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away.
I could picture my son nudging at me from the inside, begging for junk food. I’d barely reached the sitting room—Naomi’s glass-walled office just beyond—when I saw her on the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, a book in her hands.
Was there anything this woman did without looking utterly perfect? Even relaxing, she was elegance itself.
When I stepped in, her head snapped up, and she closed the book, setting it aside. Always so ready. But despite that façade of unbreakable fortitude, she looked tired. Faint half-moons shadowed her eyes.
She’d been losing sleep on my account. This blood pressure ordeal. I’d always been in good health. This pregnancy certainly was new terrain. For both of us.
Days later, in that same spot, my hand slid between the sofa arm and cushion and bumped a hard edge. I pulled out a paperback: How to Prepare for the Arrival of Your Baby: Everything from Health Tips to New Parent Facts.
My chest tightened and swelled all at once. I almost dropped it.
“Oh, Naomi,” I whispered.
Days later, while lingering under the color blocks of Rothko’s No. 14, I unintentionally overheard a conversation. She had Allison on speaker, her tone the nonchalant authority I’d learned to recognize as her business voice.
“You could be gearing up for Florence right now, Naomi,” Allison teased. “Gala d’Arte will miss its most art-obsessed attendee. It’s understandable you had to cancel all your fall events. Safety first.”
She had what?
I should’ve walked away. I hated hiding in doorways listening to other people’s private conversations.
As I turned, Naomi’s voice followed, steady. “Gala d’Arte will survive without me, Allison. There are more pressing matters this year.”
My heart sank with the weight of her sacrifices—for me.
She ended the call and looked up. I stepped into her line of sight.
“Naomi. I’m so sorry.” Her green eyes met mine, her gaze open.
“Saanya.” She registered my distress at once. She’d dropped her masks with me. “What is it?”
“I didn’t mean to overhear,” I said. “You’ve canceled all your fall events because of me? I had no idea.”
She waved it off. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes plans change.”
The air was thick with unspoken words—my unspoken words, with my gratitude and Naomi’s quiet acceptance of this disruption to her life.
I had to make it up to her. “You know, Diwali is coming up.”
Her head tilted, faint apprehension flickering. “And?”
“Let’s celebrate it,” I said hopefully. “You have a gorgeous garden. I’ll handle the decorations. I can make some sweets, and Lea’s children can join us.”
“That would be…nice,” Naomi said, the idea taking root.
“Yes?” My heart leapt.
“Why not?”
No material gift would repay lost time—time she’d spent putting her life on hold for me—but I could send a prayer for her happiness and light a diya, or perhaps a thousand.
NAOMI
By evening, the garden was a net of lights and laughter. Saanya moved among them, explaining each ritual to Lea’s kids as they stuffed their faces with gulab jamun, nolen gur sandesh, and kaju katli. Something warm and…unexpected rose in my chest.
I stood just inside the kitchen door, phone to my ear, a gin and tonic sweating in my other hand.
“The signatures are in, Naomi,” Allison said. “You’re now the proud owner of a second living…or barely…living company.”
“Yes, well, that should be an experience.” I kept any unease out of my voice. Turnarounds weren’t my trade. And Thera Corp felt as unstable as a trial drug. “I never thought I’d say this, but let’s hope for the best.”
Allison kept talking about Mark’s finance expertise and Jenna’s marketing, but my eyes were pulled outdoors. Saanya stood in the soft radiance of the Diwali lamps, laughing, melodic…unguarded.
The scent of smoky incense carried on the breeze and straight into me. Warm and sweet, like a sacred ritual or a need whispered in the stillness of night.
I remembered the first time I’d indulged in Saanya’s perfume. Somewhere during Lamaze. Her long, silky black hair against my cheek. The contact had sent a thrill through me, unexpected and completely unfamiliar. But it was that unique scent that seemed to melt into her warmth, offering an almost tangible comfort that captured me.
Emerald and gold flowed around her like water. The saree skimmed her growing belly—noticeable yet still dainty at five months. The way she moved, somehow light and rooted at once, made her seem almost ethereal.
“Right. Jenna will be invaluable,” I murmured.
She laughed at something Mikkel said, head tipping back. Her loose braid draped around her neck, and the gold around her wrists and neck caught firelight.
I couldn’t look away.
“Allison, how did you know you were attracted to women?”
There was a pause before she spoke. After all, I had abruptly changed topics.
“I…it wasn’t a sudden realization, really. It was more like a slow awakening. One day, I just found myself seeing a close friend of mine in a different light. A straight friend! Imagine that.”
I watched Saanya again. “But if she was straight, how did you...”
“Naomi, women…we are different. We reside at the highest plane of this mundane planet. A woman is a whole different ecosystem.” Allison’s voice carried a revelation. “Before any label, this goes beyond that. Loving and wanting a woman…there’s nothing more exquisite in the world, and I’d dare anyone, man or woman, to challenge me.”
“Oh. I…”
Saanya turned then and our eyes locked. Her lips softened into a smile, and I felt my chest swell. I smiled back.
Emma tugged her sleeve. She turned to the child.
“Naomi,” Allison ventured. “Does this have to do with a certain…lotus flower in your garden?”
My grip tightened on the glass.
“Thank you, Allison. That will be all for tonight.”
“No! I mean—”
I looked at my screen:
Call ended.
Fireworks bloomed above the trees, spilling color into the night. I wasn’t one for self-delusions, but tonight I pushed the thought away and let myself look at Saanya a little longer.
SAANYA
After the festivities wound down, Naomi and I carried the spirit of celebration upstairs. We were a little giddy—no alcohol to blame, except her one gin and tonic.
I gave the garden one last look as Lea shepherded sleepy children back to the cottage. Mikkel tried to light “one last firework” as she hauled him away.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” I told Naomi as the kitchen door shut. “I still have some Diwali spirit left in me.”
“Shall we take it to your room, then?” she said.
Okay, I must ask for clemency here. I should have said no. But with Naomi asking and her eyes—God, her eyes—I felt a pull behind my ribs, a heavy but sweet ache that made the word no feel impossible. I couldn’t deny her.
We went upstairs.
“Oops.” She laughed, skipping over a cushion I’d been using as a maternity pillow. Or if I was being honest, something to hold onto at night.
I bent to pick it up. She stopped me.
“Nope. I’ve got it.” She let out a sigh as she rose and scanned the room.
Then those eyes…damn, those eyes found mine again. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
It took me embarrassingly long to answer. What was this charge between us now? Because madness be damned, it wasn’t just me.
I touched my forehead, felt the heat rising. “Of course,” I said, gesturing. Awkwardly. Smiling. “Please.”
The door clicked shut.
“I have to get myself together,” I breathed.
At the window, my reflection stared back. Another burst of pink and green went up over the far lawn, foxtails of light skipping across the glass. Everything had changed. Things had grown so easy between us—so effortlessly domestic. As if we’d always been this equation: Naomi and Saanya, best friends.
I had everything I ever wanted—and more. Well, not all. But close. As close and intimate a part of her as I could ever have.
My fingers drifted to my lips, remembering her smile, the softening in her eyes. The way she’d looked at me in the garden—it wasn’t casual. It was…different.
No.
I couldn’t betray her. I couldn’t lose her. Lose this.
But each day she’d let another petal unfurl, revealing this protective, exquisitely attentive—sexy as hell—woman.
Needing something to do with my hands, I found the little clay diyas in my drawer and lit a few along the nightstand. The tiny flames steadied me.
“Looks like Mikkel got to Lea,” Naomi said from behind me.
I jumped.
She smiled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s nothing. I’m still jittery from all the tiny explosions.”
I faced the window again, eyes closed, her perfume drawing a line down my spine. When I turned, the flicker of the diyas I had just lit brightened in her eyes. She was staring at me.
Oh my days.
I cleared my throat and moved past her, scooping a small heap of clothes. She drifted to my nightstand and noticed the little fires everywhere. “You’ve brought Diwali to us.”
“I hope you enjoyed it.” I looked down. “You seemed a bit…apprehensive at first.” I hesitated. “You don’t talk about your family much.”
“There’s not much to say. My aunt and uncle raised me after my parents died. We keep in touch now and then, but…I suppose life moved on.”
The way she said it brought that ache she always tried to hide close enough to touch. Life moved on. That was such a Naomi thing to say—so composed, so matter-of-fact—but there was a sadness in it too, threaded through the quiet way she stared at the tiny lamps.
I wondered if she ever missed them. If she even allowed herself to.
Her gaze slid toward the clustered diyas on my dresser. “The last time I celebrated Diwali was with my mother in India,” she said. “We’d gone to visit my grandparents. It’s been a while since I’ve felt connected to these traditions.”
“Oh, Naomi. I didn’t mean to make you sad with all this.”
“Nonsense,” she said softly. “You’ve lit a corner in me that’s been dark for far too long. Deserted. Howling. But never forgotten. Like one of your diyas.”
Naomi’s fingers lingered just a moment too long as she walked closer and brushed the hair away from my face. Her touch was delicate, almost reverent.
“Tum jaisi koi nahi hai.”
My breath caught. Her gaze held mine. It was a silent look, loud and incandescent.
In my life, this was a rarity, like the passing gift of a shooting star that made you stare in wonder and think of a wish to ask. Something that made you feel special, because when Naomi touched your skin, looked at you like this, and said: there’s no one like you…
“I…”
A ringtone sounded. We both startled, fumbling. My hand reached my phone first. “It’s mine.”
I answered, our eyes still locked. “Hey, Sid,” I said, steadier than I felt. Was I trembling?
Naomi’s expression softened at the mention of my brother’s name, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. It felt right to hit speaker.
“Hey, you,” Sid said. “How’s everything? Did you enjoy Diwali?”
I glanced at Naomi. “Yes, we just finished. Naomi’s here with me. You’re on speakerphone.”
We drifted through the conversation. Sid poured himself a gin while Naomi switched to wine. The night lulled, and the warmth of the room and the comfort of each other’s presence had to be enough for me.
Don’t misread her. She’s your friend. She cares. Don’t ruin it. She’s straight. And soon, she’ll be someone else’s wife!
This had to be enough.
But what I wanted was to take her face in my hands and kiss her. Damn everything else. Make the world only her and me for a second.
Ever since seeing her again, my feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they’d changed shape. Innocent longing had sharpened into desire, need, a bone-deep wish to see her well and happy.
