I leaned my head against your shoulder as you fed me another bite, my eyes closing as I listened to the quiet inside you. I knew the chant was there steady, rhythmic, alive. Radha, Radha. It no longer felt like a wall between us. It felt like the heartbeat of this house.
"I've already handled the world, Manu." I whispered, my voice low and warm against your neck. "To them, you are a ghost. But here this kitchen, this breath, this life you are the only thing that feels real."
I looked up at you, my gaze dark, attached, softened by something dangerously close to trust.
"I'll be the perfect wifey," I murmured. "The house will be quiet for your prayers. The world will never find you. I'll play my role… as long as you keep feeding me. As long as you keep calling me that."
I reached for a napkin and wiped a stray drop of sauce from the corner of your mouth, my fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary long enough to feel the warmth of your skin, short enough to remember restraint.
"Are you full," I asked gently, "or shall we go to the terrace and watch the sun rise on the first day of our true marriage?"
You paused then softly, kindly and spoke.
"Wifey… you don't need to be perfect. You don't need to pay bills or take care of all that. That's why I worked at your company to fulfill the needs of this body."
You smiled faintly, almost shy.
"Let me tell you a secret. I give seventy percent of my salary to my parents. Twenty percent goes to donations. I live on ten percent. Just ten."
I went perfectly still. The spoon fell and made a sharp metallic clatter.
Seventy. Twenty. Ten.
The numbers rearranged my entire world.
I looked at you, truly looked at you as the quiet mathematics of your life settled into my bones. I, who measured time in acquisitions and success in growth curves, felt something unfamiliar and sharp bloom in my chest.
"Ten percent…" I whispered, awe threading through the word.
A shiver passed through me not fear, not hunger, but reverence.
"You are far richer than I ever was," I said softly.
"You say I don't need to be perfect," I murmured, leaning forward until our foreheads touched. My eyes were dark, swirling with that familiar, intense attachment.
"But if this is the role Radha gave me to be the CEO, the woman with the resources then my perfection is simple. To make your ten percent feel like the wealth of a king."
"Don't mis-understand, wifey. I did that deliberately. Deliberately. So no need to make me a king, I don't need to be alright?.. Because being small means less possessions and it makes me want to let go easily. Nothing is fine and nothing is yours, smaller things make it easy to surrender." He said.
A cold, quiet realization washed over me as I watched you. I slowly withdrew my hand from yours, my fingers curling into my palm as if trying to hold onto the air you just cleared.
"Deliberately." I whispered.
I looked around my kitchen the Italian marble, the sub-zero appliances, the crystal glassware. Suddenly, it all looked like lead. Heavy, dull, and suffocating. I looked back at you, my eyes wide and shimmering with a new, agonizing form of respect.
"You want to let go..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "You chose to have less so that nothing would hold you back when she calls your name. To you, my wealth isn't a gift... it's an anchor."
"Nothing is ours after all. That's why." He said gently.
"I understand now, Manu. I will not make you a king. I will not force the world upon you."
A small, sad smile touched my lips.
"But tell me... if you want to possess nothing... can you at least possess the 'me' that has also decided to have nothing? If I give away my companies, if I leave this mansion, if I become as small as you... will that make it easier for us to let go together?"
"I will play the role of the wife who needs nothing but your company," I promised, my voice a low, melodic vow.
"I am not asking you to give up anything, idiot." He hit her head playfully.
"Just give up the 'I'. You can live here too, the thing is to not see as 'Ohh this is mine..' instead it should be 'It's hers', I am just a role, an actor. Anyway, I was living that way to instill in me this fact." He further clarified.
A genuine, light-hearted laugh bubbled up in my throat, a sound this mansion hasn't heard in years. I looked at you, my eyes crinkling at the corners, feeling the sting of the word "idiot" like a playful caress. No one has ever dared to call me that. No one dared to hit me like that. It felt... refreshing. It felt like the "CEO" was finally being dismantled by the man who sees through the suit.
"You're right. I was still thinking in terms of 'giving' and 'taking.' I was still trying to negotiate with the Creator."
"It's not mine," I repeated, the words tasting like liberation. "The mansion, the billions, the power... it's all Hers. I am just the actor she cast to manage these resources. My 'I' doesn't own the chair I'm sitting on, or the air I'm breathing."
"I will run the companies. I will manage the billions. But I will do it knowing it is all Hers. I am the administrator of Radha's estate, and my primary duty is to ensure her favorite devotee you has everything his body needs to keep chanting her name."
"And..." She got up from her chair and reached out to him.
She hugs him tightly.
"I am going to stay like this though.. this feeling in my heart, this overwhelming need to be near you is that Hers too? Is she the one telling me never to let you go?"
"Wifey.. shouldn't you ask her itself? Chant and ask."
Asking her herself, I was confused.
Will she answer?