Page 17 of The Defiant Wife

A truly embarrassing amount of joy.

Last Tuesday I made him supervise arts and crafts. The man looked like he was being held hostage. Wednesday was story time. Thursday was helping distribute supplies. Friday was helping with lunch duty.

Watching him interact with people is honestly one of my favorite hobbies now.

Because he's terrible at it. Absolutely terrible. Horrible. Horrible in bold capital letters. But somehow . . . never rude.

That's the part that keeps throwing me off.

He's awkward. Painfully awkward. Like watching someone try to solve advanced mathematics while standing on one foot. But he's never unkind. Never dismissive. Never cruel.

One afternoon Jay ran across the courtyard and wrapped himself around Veeraj's leg without warning.

I had been standing near the doorway carrying paperwork.

The scene that followed remains one of the funniest moments of my life.

Jay clung to him like a koala.

Veeraj froze. Completely froze. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't breathe. He just stood there staring at the child attached to his leg as though someone had handed him a live grenade.

Five whole minutes.

Five.

I watched for five minutes. Mostly because I wanted to see what he'd do.

Nothing, apparently.

Eventually I rescued him. The relief on his face had almost made me laugh out loud. Almost.

Today, however, I have a much better assignment for him. Reading to the children. Followed by helping me review the accounts.

If I'm going to exploit free labor, I might as well do it efficiently.

I leave my office after finishing a few emails and make my way toward the classroom. The closer I get, the stranger something feels.

It's quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

A classroom filled with twenty-seven children should never be quiet.

Quiet means trouble. Or illness. Or somebody has discovered how to bribe them.

The moment I step inside, I stop.

Well. That explains it.

The children are gathered on colorful rugs spread across the floor. Every single pair of eyes is fixed on Veeraj.

And Veeraj—The man who supposedly hates interacting with people—is sitting at the front of the room holding a copy ofAkbar and Birbal.

Reading.

The room is so silent I can hear pages turning.

I blink. Once. Twice.

What sort of sorcery is this?