All Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty-Five

This chapter took incredibly long to write, for a number of reasons, but mostly due to a writer's block. I would really appreciate any thoughts you have about it!

Dhushyanth

"You will win with a majority of twenty-five thousand votes," Kumar, the political strategist assures me. "The people love you; you've managed to capture interest of the entire state. You're young and handsome, you apparently are a great husband from whatever the people are saying, and your educational background has made people think you are capable. Keep doing what you're doing, and you've got this election in the bag."

When Kumar leaves, after lunch, my father and grandfather speak to me, "twenty-five thousand maybe too much of a majority," they express, "but the election sounds like it is in your favour."

I look up at Sita, who grins back at me, not saying a word.

Has she simply accepted her fate to be tied to a politician, or is she simply rooting for her husband?

I smile back at her, my heart warming at the thought that she would choose to root for me.

"Everyone should rest for a bit," Nanna suggests. "We'll go out campaigning in the evening." He looks at Sita. "Do you think you might join Dhushyanth today, nanna?" He wonders. "The MP's wife is joining the MP as well. It would be nice to have you show up for Dhushyanth and give her some company."

I notice Sita's face going blank before she smiles and nods at my father. "Sure, Mamayya," she agrees.

"We'll see you in the evening," I let my parents and grandfather know, before grabbing Sita's hand to bring her upstairs with me.

She intertwines her fingers with mine, and uses the other hand to hold my arm as we walk up the stairs.

"You've not come campaigning with me before," I acknowledge, "it would be your first time."

"It would be," she agrees, but does not take on the cue to refuse to go along with me.

I wait to go into our room, before I turn to look at her, causing her to step back against the door, startled by my sudden movements.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," I remind her.

Sita's eyebrows furrow, her bottu enhancing her facial expressions. "Are you telling me or threatening me?" She asks.

I chuckle. "Why would I threaten you against going with me?"

"So why are you hovering over me like this?" She asks, pushing me back with a hand on my chest.

"Are you trying to push me away?" I ask her, cocking an eyebrow. "You don't want my kisses, or my touch, and now you don't want me to stand in front of you— I don't know what it is," I exclaim, stepping away from her. Shaking my head, I continue on, "I won't touch you, don't worry."

"Drama cheyaku," Sita tells me, reaching out to hold my arm, but I back away.

"No, you don't get to touch me now," I tease her. "You're only using me for pleasure, I realise."

"You know you're not that good in bed, right?"

I know the comment is meant to fluster me, but this is what years of experience with Sita Cherukuri gives you: a thick skin. "Not what you were saying this morning. My back's raw from all your scratching."

Sita's face turns red at once. "Reddy," she warns, and I have to bite my lower lip to keep myself from grinning.

"That's not all," I continue, "I have the hickeys as well—"