2 years later…

Paritosh stood near the window, looking out, the door of his office wide open. Rupali knocked and stepped in, without waiting for his permission. He turned and smiled at her, then stood at his place with his hands in his jacket pocket and his shoulder hunched over. The way he usually stood when he was trying to come up with a way to explain a complicated concept.

At last, he sighed, relaxed and looked back at her. “That went well,” he said.

She smiled back, hesitant, “You think so?”

“I do,” he said and then added after a pause, “Dr. Banerjee.”

At that moment, she didn’t know her place in the world. Even physically, she felt like she was hanging between the floor and the roof, not knowing whether she was supposed to ascend towards the sky from there, or descend to feel the solid earth beneath her feet.

They had not spoken about it for over two years. They had spoken about Computer Science, her research, their friends, eating preferences, even their families and their relationship with their parents. But they hadn’t spoken about themselves. About this tension between them. The need to be close and far at the same time. The meetings always at public places. Hundreds of potential phone calls and face to face meetings converted to online chats and emails, for the fear of snapping something fragile that kept their lives stable.

Then he walked towards her as she stood rooted, her palms sweaty and her throat dry. He reached around her and shut the door before asking – straight and flat – flat in voice, but his inner turbulence betrayed by those smoldering eyes, “Are you seeing someone?”

“No.” The clarity of her voice surprised her. She had expected a choked hissing sound to come out of her throat. But she was loud and clear. And she was thankful for it.

In a weird gesture, he pressed his palms against the back of her head. In the very next moment, she realized why. He had pushed her against the door, almost violently. But for his hand cushioning it, her head would have been hurt. It wasn’t, but his hand… His action was speedier than her thoughts though and before an image of the situation had completely formed in her head, his lips were pressing against hers. His tongue hungrily devoured her mouth next and moments later she coughed from lack of breath. He withdrew as swiftly as he had commenced and looked lost for a moment before gathering his wits and stepping back to give her some space.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She looked up at him. The fierce passion from moments before had been replaced by taut lines on his face. He was tense again. With concern.

She shook her head to dispel his worries, although she had indeed been uncomfortably out of breath moments ago.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I got carried away.”

“What wasn’t?”

“You were supposed to enjoy it, not get suffocated,” he smiled, but in a contrite way.

“But I enjoyed it,” she retorted. She had! Perhaps not in the way Paritosh had meant her to. Not in the way that had left her panting with desire. But she had enjoyed this long-awaited affirmation of being wanted by him.

He shook his head with a knowing smile.

“I did,” she reaffirmed, then grabbed his hand, looked him straight in the eyes and added, “Paritosh.” Fulfilling her side of the bargain with that one word.

Paritosh drew a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Her finally addressing him by his name had the same profound impact on him that her earlier ‘No’ to seeing someone else had had. But instead of an uncontrolled passion, this time he was gripped by warmth and security. He put his arms around her and drew her in a gentle embrace. She snuggled up to him happily.

“What shall we do now?” he said, languorously.

“I don’t know. Live, I suppose?”

He chuckled.

“Yes. Live,” she said, “You have punished me long enough.”

“Punished you? Why would you say so?”

“When was the last time I was allowed alone in this office with you?”

“Allowed? I wasn’t allowing myself to mess up with our lives. My punishment, if that’s how you want to think of it, was not for you. I was punishing myself.”

“I am in a generous mood right now. So, I will admit that argument.”

Paritosh laughed, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Then he kissed her again. This time he was slow and mindful for her pleasure.

“What should we do now? Shall I ask you out for a coffee?” he grinned as he held her close.

“I think I am done with coffee shops for a long time now.”

“Would you…” he hesitated for a moment, then finally asked, “Would you like to come home?”

She buried her face in his chest and replied, “Happily.”

—

To be continued