Arjun's eyes snapped open, his body jerking upright in the bed as if the raptor's claws were still tearing into him. His chest heaved, sweat slicking his skin despite the cool air from the fan. The room came into focus—the soft glow of the bedside lamp they'd left on low, the faint outline of the dresser with wedding gifts still scattered. No forest, no towering trees, no predators. Just the quiet sanctuary of their new home. He let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "God, that was terrifying," he whispered to himself, hand pressing against his neck where the phantom pain lingered like a bruise that wasn't there.
He glanced at Priya beside him, her breathing steady and deep, undisturbed by his sudden movement. The sight of her—peaceful, vulnerable in sleep—grounded him. It was just a dream, another weird one in the string that had plagued him since arriving in this body. But this felt different: too vivid, too real. The thirst from the stream clawed at his throat now, insistent. He reached for the glass of water on the side table, gulping it down in greedy swallows. The cool liquid soothed him, but he paused mid-sip. "Why am I so thirsty? Is there such a thing as phantom thirst?" He shook his head, setting the glass back with a soft clink. Dreams messing with reality— or was it the merger of his lives playing tricks? Either way, exhaustion tugged at him again, heavier now that the adrenaline faded.
Sliding back under the sheets, he turned toward Priya. Her face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, a stray lock of hair curling across her cheek. He admired her quietly—the strength in her even features, the way she seemed to carry the world without effort. In his old life, nights like this had been lonely voids; now, she was his anchor. Leaning in gently, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment. "Goodnight again, love," he murmured, though she didn't stir. Gazing at her, the tension from the dream ebbed away, replaced by a quiet warmth. Sleep claimed him soon after, his hand finding hers under the covers.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golds. Arjun stirred, blinking against the brightness. The bed beside him was empty, the sheets still warm from her body. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and heard the faint sounds of movement from the bathroom. Priya emerged moments later, already bathed and dressed in a crisp formal saree—deep blue silk with subtle gold borders, her hair damp and half-tied. She was pinning the last strands into a neat bun, her movements efficient and graceful.
Noticing him awake, she turned with a playful smile. "Finally got up? Lazy bones, the sun's been waiting for you."
Arjun grinned, stretching his arms overhead. "What can I say? Wedding nights take it out of a guy. You look ready to conquer the world already."
She laughed, a light sound that filled the room. "Well, someone has to. Your wife is already ready to go to work—first day as district collector, remember? Can't show up looking like I just rolled out of bed."
He swung his legs over the side, standing and pulling her into a gentle hug from behind as she faced the mirror. "Impressive. Here, let me help with that." He took the hair tie from her hand and finished securing the bun, his fingers brushing her neck softly. "There. Perfect."
She met his eyes in the reflection, her expression softening. "Thanks. Now, get bathed yourself. I laid out a towel for you."
Arjun nodded, taking the towel she handed over. "Bossy already, huh? I like it." He headed to the bathroom, the steam from her recent shower still lingering, carrying the faint scent of her sandalwood soap. Under the warm spray, he let the water wash away the last remnants of the night's dream—the forest's chill, the raptor's shadow. It felt therapeutic, this ritual: cleansing not just his body, but the lingering unease. By the time he emerged, towel around his waist, he felt renewed.
In the wardrobe—already stocked with a mix of his old clothes and new ones—she'd clearly thought ahead. He picked a casual button-down shirt, light blue cotton that fit perfectly. "Huh, lucky me," he murmured, slipping it on with jeans. "She's already buying for me. Feels like home."
He walked into the hall, the aroma of breakfast drawing him. Priya was seated at the dining table, a plate of simple upma before her—steaming semolina dotted with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and peanuts. Nothing extravagant, just comforting home food. Arjun approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a loose hug. "Smells good. How are you feeling now?" His voice was low, concern genuine—remembering the soreness she'd mentioned indirectly last night.
She leaned back into him slightly, her hand reaching up to pat his arm. "There's still a little soreness, but that's all. Nothing I can't handle."
He frowned, pulling out a chair to sit beside her. "If you're not feeling well, take a leave. The world won't end if the collector rests one day."
Priya shook her head firmly, spooning a bit of upma onto his plate from the serving bowl. "This is my first day in office—do you expect the collector herself to take a sick leave? What example does that set? No, Arjun. I'm fine. Really. Don't worry about me." She paused, her eyes meeting his with that unyielding strength he admired. "Instead, you get familiar with this place today. Buy some things—it feels too empty here. Make it ours."
He nodded, appreciating her resolve. It was healing, in a way—seeing her balance vulnerability with determination. "Alright, boss. I'll handle it." They dug into the breakfast, but instead of using spoons, they ate with their hands—fingers mixing the upma just right, scooping bites. "You know," Arjun said between mouthfuls, "which Tamilian would use a spoon for this? Hands are where it's at. Those eating with spoons don't know the joy of it—God gave you hands, use them."
Priya chuckled, nodding. "Exactly. Feels more real this way." She pinched a bit from her plate and held it out to him. "Here, try mine—extra peanuts."
He leaned in, taking the bite from her fingers, then reciprocated, feeding her a morsel. "Yours is better. Always is." The act was intimate, simple—fingers brushing lips, shared smiles. It grounded him further, turning the morning into a quiet therapy session of connection. They talked lightly: about her office nerves ("I'll be swamped with files, but it's exciting"), his plans ("Maybe some decor, tech stuff?"), laughing over a wedding mishap from yesterday ("Remember when the priest tripped on the homam mat?").
Soon, breakfast wrapped. Priya stood, smoothing her saree. "Time for me to go. The car's waiting." She kissed his cheek quickly. "Be good. Call if you need anything."
"Will do. Knock 'em dead, Collector Sahiba." He watched her leave, the door clicking shut, her car pulling away from the driveway.
Alone now, Arjun noticed the table—dishes already cleared and washed, tucked away in the kitchen racks. "Seems the servants don't even let us clean our own plates, huh?" he said aloud, chuckling. "Well, good for us. Less hassle." It was a perk of her position, this invisible support system—maids, cooks, guards handling the mundane. Therapeutic, in its way: freeing him to focus on building their life.
He roamed the house, exploring properly for the first time. The residence was expansive—two main bedrooms, a third smaller one, plus a guest room with its own attached bath. The kitchen was massive, stocked with gleaming utensils and a pantry that could feed an army. Two public restrooms flanked the hall, spotless marble. Almost every bedroom had an en-suite bathroom—tiled in cool blues, with rain showers and ample storage. "Dude, who needs so many bedrooms?" Arjun muttered, peeking into an empty one. "They'd be better suited as special rooms—like a place for art, where Priya could unwind with sketches or something. A library for books, stacking shelves with novels and her policy tomes. Or a lounge just for enjoying the views—cushions, low lights, staring at the city."
He climbed to the terrace, the door creaking open to a wide expanse under the morning sun. The view was stunning: Chennai sprawling below—towers in the distance, green patches of parks, the faint shimmer of the sea on the horizon. A light breeze carried the scent of rain-wet earth from somewhere. "Pretty much a big house for a big position, huh?" he reflected, leaning on the railing. It felt like a blank canvas—empty now, but full of potential. Healing his old life's isolation, one room at a time.
Deciding action was better than wandering, he headed downstairs. A guard at the entrance saluted. "Sir, shall I call for a car?"
Arjun waved it off with a smile. "No thanks. My wife's the collector, not me. I'll manage."
Pulling out his phone, he dialed Rajesh. It rang twice before his friend picked up. "Hey, man. You free right now?"
Rajesh's voice came through, casual as ever. "Sure, what's up? Wedding hangover?"
Arjun laughed. "Something like that. Come to the house where we were last night—the residence. Need your wheels for some errands."
"On my way. Be there in 20."
True to his word, Rajesh pulled up on his bike, engine rumbling. Arjun hopped on the back, helmet strapped. "Market bound. Let's make this place feel like home."
As they rode through Chennai's bustling streets—horns blaring, autos weaving—the city felt alive, a far cry from his dream's wild isolation. It was real, grounding. And with a friend along, it promised a day of simple, therapeutic discovery.