Page 75 of The Promise of a Traitor

“You’ll wear make up for me again.”

Advik groaned. Aastha chortled, choking out words between breathless gasps of laughter. “The half and half look is weirdly sexy.”

“No, it’s not.” He eyed her with mock affront. “You’re just weird.”

“Weird or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“And I couldn’t be happier.”

Epilogue

Aastha was elbow deep in flour when the kitchen door banged open.

“Rohan?” she called out, unable to see the entrance from her corner of the kitchen. “If that’s you, I could use a hand. Can you have Maria bring me some butter?”

A thick slab of butter spun its way towards her on the counter with pizazz. It came to a halt about an inch away from her kneading dish. She eyed the butter but slowly turned to look at the door. There was only one person who could give butter pizazz…and sure enough, there he was. Rehaan Bakshi.

“Hi Reh,” she smiled, “What are you doing here?”

“Need a hand?” he asked, sauntering over to wash his hands and pull on an apron without waiting for her to answer. “Palmiers?”

She nodded, shoving a bag of flour in his direction with her elbow. Rehaan settled in beside her and the two of them worked in companionable silence for over an hour. Aastha was well aware of how therapeutic baking could be and she allowed it to work its magic on Rehaan’s brooding temper.

When they finished with the palmiers, they moved on without discussing it to the prep for the lemon tarts. Aastha was humming to herself, an old ghazal when he finally spoke.

“I heard about the expansion plans.”

“Hmm?” Aastha piped in more lemon custard. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Are you insane? It’s great.” He dusted his hands off and then stuck them under the tap, washing thoroughly, his broody gaze locked on to something in the distance. “You should get Zara to do your online branding though. She’s brilliant.”

“Zara? She’s a child.”

Rehaan laughed. “Isn’t social media best suited to a young person’s brain?”

“And you’re saying this with all your accumulated wisdom of twenty seven years?” Aastha ribbed.

Rehaan shook his head smiling, the dark circles under his eyes only amplifying the roguish, Heathcliff like looks that he sported so effortlessly. Something was wrong but Aastha knew, instinctively, that probing would only make it worse.

“Wisdom and me?” he scoffed. “Trust me. She’ll set you up.”

“Hmm.” Aastha watched him out of the corner of her eye. “And who is going to set you up?”

Rehaan sighed. “My sweet sister-in-law, Rehaan Bakshi doesn’t need to be set up. He trips over his options while trying to find a moment of solitude.”

“Wow. That was so bad it was almost good,” Advik said from the doorway.

Rehaan looked up from his flour dusted workstation, his gaze flicking over Advik’s pristine and perfectly put together suit and polished shoes. “What are you doing here, Robocop?”

“I came to see my wife,” Advik answered, leaning down to kiss Aastha who was very careful to keep her floury hands away from him.

“Fiancée.” Rehaan corrected with a smirk, flicking some flour in Advik’s direction. “What’s your hurry bro? You guys have been engaged a hot minute.”

“Wife in all but paperwork,” Advik said with a relish, dipping his hand in the bowl of flour and flinging some back at Rehaan. “And the hot minute feels like a hot fucking year,” he added.

“A hot fucking seven years?” Rehaan probed, dusting himself off and reaching sneakily for the butter. The joke skewered a raw wound with his biting humour. Aastha glanced between the two brothers but surprisingly, Advik didn’t erupt. He clearly recognised his cousin was in a bad mood and was spoiling for a fight.

“That too,” he agreed equably, though he took a closer look at Rehaan’s dark circles and pinched look. “What are we making?”