Chapter 59: Experience

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Chapter Fifty-Nine

Experience

Khushi was sure she was dreaming. 

Why else was she feeling so utterly comfortable, her head tilted awkwardly against her –weirdly– hard pillow? The smart thing would be to move, to shift her position before she pulled a muscle and wobbled around the hospital with a sprained neck, a point that would result in endless ridicule from Ved. But somehow, Khushi preferred to stay in the same place, her brain muddled in a familiar musky scent, her body cradled by a soft arm–

Khushi’s eyes snapped open at once, the haze in her mind clearing with an inaudible gasp.

Sure enough, the arm belonged to Arnav, who was fast asleep on his stomach, his soft snores echoing from only an few inches above her head. It was his right arm that was draped protectively across her waist, pinning her down the bed, while his shoulder served as her pillow, strong and smooth against her forehead. Judging by the light in the room, there were still a few minutes left to sunrise, a relief considering she had to be at the hospital earlier than usual today for three back-to-back surgeries. 

The whole situation was quite bizarre. 

Khushi had never been a deep –or for that matter, a rolling– sleeper. Even as a child, she used to take up only a portion of her king-sized bed, almost always waking up in the same position she had slept in. This, of course, had been a blessing when she started sharing a bed with Arnav. She slept on one extreme end, and he, on the other. Perhaps out of unfamiliarity or their mutual pact to respect each other’s personal space, neither of them had ever rolled over to the wrong side in the middle of night. The most that ever happened was a brush of hands and that too, once in a blue moon. 

So then, what had changed today?  

A quick scan of the bed told her that she was still very much on her side. It was Arnav, still dressed in jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt –clothes he had worn yesterday evening when he sped off after dinner to check up on the renovations in the restaurant– who had somehow ended up beside her. The simplest explanation, of course, was that he had returned very late last night and in exhaustion might have collapsed on the bed, not caring about the boundaries they had been religiously following until now. 

But when was the simplest explanation ever the correct one? 

Given how much Arnav had changed since Vihaan departed for London –almost three weeks ago now– Khushi couldn’t deny that there was something more sinister in the way he slept, hugging her so close. 

She hadn’t realized it at first, rattled as she mostly was around him, but the signs were undeniable, the earliest one being at Vihaan’s goodbye dinner, where he wrapped his arm around her as though he had every right, delicately entrapping her fingers, teasing them, pestering them, soothing them… it was a miracle she remembered any of the conversations that night, for the only thing she could register was his touch and the racing of her heart.

She had been no less, of course. Taking courage from his warmth, she boldly pecked him on each of his cheeks, testing his reaction, enjoying his surprise but mostly, submerging herself in the giddiness of knowing that she had blown him away completely. 

From that time onwards, Arnav began to step closer and closer towards her. He gave her goodbye hugs in the morning as she left for the hospital, he sometimes picked her up in the evenings after her shift ended (the past few times with a bouquet in hand!). He insisted on taking her out often, for walks in their favorite park, sudden midnight drives and impromptu weekend picnics. It was astonishing how he even found time to do all this amidst his preparations for the grand opening of the restaurant, scheduled to be happen in less than ten days. 

Of course, it was another thing that Arnav was born to be a chef. Despite his initial hesitance, he adjusted to the idea of being a restaurant owner very smoothly. From the moment they bought the restaurant, he knew exactly what to do (and what not to do for that matter), drawing up an insanely detailed plan of action and carrying it out with utmost ease.  

It was inspiring, as much as it was alluring.

Khushi had been so used to seeing Arnav as the calm and collected CEO of Raizada Industries, that it was almost peculiar seeing him practically bouncing with energy almost every day, talking nonstop about his ideas, never seeming disappointed about things going awry and sometimes staying up all night, perfecting dishes. If Khushi had any doubts about the success of the restaurant –she didn’t– all of them had been swept away by his sheer hard work. 

But it seemed the exhaustion was finally catching up to him. This was the first time in weeks she was seeing him sleep so soundly, unaware of the alarm that he had set, mostly to match his timing with hers and wake up early enough to prepare breakfast. Khushi, of course, tried her hardest to dissuade him from waking up so early, but all her words fell on dead ears. 

Glad that today at least he was getting his sleep, Khushi carefully wiggled out from underneath his grasp, walking over to his bedside table and turning off his alarm for extra measure. Stripping her nightclothes, she stepped into the shower, letting ice cold water run down her body, wanting to distract herself from the feel of Arnav’s arm stark against her abdomen. 

Khushi didn’t know for how much longer she would be able to withstand these encounters. It was one thing to spend her evenings with him, talking, laughing, teasing (although Lavanya had told her very clearly last weekend that the proper term for it was flirting)… but it was a whole other, waking up in his arms, feeling his body against hers, his breath fanning her face, his lips only inches away from hers.

Did he even realize what he was doing to her? 

Probably not. 

It just seemed too good to be true that Arnav had a sudden change of heart in the last three weeks. Perhaps he was just being friendly with her out of excitement for the restaurant; perhaps his growing comfort was just a show of the trust he had in her; perhaps all these little incidents were pure coincidence and she was mistaking it to be love. 

Why else would he not just tell her about his changing feelings? Why else would he prefer to hide behind these pointed looks, intimate touches and playful teasings? Didn’t he know that she was much worse than a novice at these things?! 

Khushi took a deep, steadying breath. Perhaps one of these days she should just ask him about their future and end these torturous temptations once and for all. 

Consoling herself as such, she stepped out of the shower and silently got dressed –a baby pink cotton saree today, with a matching cream-colored floral blouse– careful not to disturb the still sleeping Arnav. She was yet to wear a red saree like he had suggested on the day of his birthday. It was a colour she had mostly kept away from since college, finding it too loud for her taste, and her busy schedule –now made extra hectic with Lavanya’s insistence to redecorate the penthouse– was still yet to give her a chance to rectify the situation. 

By the time Khushi left the penthouse, the sun was just above the horizon, drenching the isolated streets of Delhi with the promise of a warm, sunny day. Despite an unconventional start to the morning, her first two surgeries passed by without any complications and by ten o’clock, Khushi was found sitting in the cafeteria with Ved, taking a quick coffee break. 

“–a doctor and his wife were having an argument,” Ved was saying, recounting a joke he heard up in the maternity ward that morning. 

Khushi’s phone vibrated with an incoming text message. She knew even before opening it, who it was from:

I’m SO sorry for sleeping in! Please tell me you had breakfast before going to the hospital? 

Ved paused, dubiously watching her contemplate her reply. 

Khushi grinned awkwardly upon catching his eyes. “One sec.”

Typing at a record pace, she answered:

Good morning to you too sleeping beauty :P 

Ha ha… did you turn off my alarm this morning? 

Maybe… why?

Because you are in heaps of trouble for it. Do you know how many missed calls I have from the company for not showing up to a meeting?

And do YOU know how many hours of sleep you have been missing for the last few days? It’s unhealthy. 

Since when did we reversal roles? Aren’t I supposed to be the one scolding you for being totally incompetent at taking care of yourself?

Khushi frowned. 

Rude Mr. Chef. I am VERY competent at taking care of myself, thank you very much. 

What did you have for breakfast again? A glass of water? And maybe some air? 

That’s beside the point. 

Ved cleared his throat. “If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

Guiltily setting down her phone, Khushi turned her attention back to her best friend. Thankfully, things with Ved were getting considerably better. His initial reluctance at rekindling their friendship had mostly vanished, leaving behind only comfort and reassurance. It really seemed as if they could be good friends without his feelings getting in the way. 

“It’s not important,” Khushi said, taking a sip of her almost cold coffee. “Go on.”

Ved smiled. “So, at the end of the argument, the doctor screams ‘you aren’t so good in bed either–”

Khushi’s phone buzzed with Arnav’s reply. She silenced it without a look, not wanting to seem impolite.

“–and he storms off to work–”

Khushi’s phone vibrated yet again. 

Ved sighed. “Okay, please just answer it.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, picking up her phone. “This will be the last.”

Arnav’s messages read:

Okay fine, we both suck at work-life balance. I did enjoy the extra few hours of sleep a little bit too much to actually be mad at you… thank you :D 

That being said, would it be very unreasonable of me to request you to come home early today?

Khushi couldn’t help but smile. 

Not unreasonable at all. I will be home by 6 o’clock… are we doing anything special? 

“Okay, continue,” she said out loud to Ved, setting her phone down back on the table. 

Ved raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually hear anything I said until now?” 

She calmly took another sip of her coffee. “A doctor and his wife are arguing, he tells her she sucks in the bed and then goes off to work.”

“Oh,” he replied, surprised. “Okay then… so the doctor storms off to work, leaving the wife at home. By midmorning, he begins to feel guilty–”

Khushi’s phone whirred once more. Catching Ved’s weary look, she said, “It’s fine… go on.”

He looked shrewdly at her before asking: “Is it Arnav?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing important. Finish the joke.”

Ved twirled his empty coffee mug. “How’s his restaurant coming along?”

“Good… he just finalized the menu yesterday, actually. It was like watching a five-year-old high on cotton candy.”

He chuckled. “You’re exaggerating.”

“A little bit,” she agreed sheepishly. “By the way you are coming to the restaurant opening, right? I put your name down on the list of invitees.”

“Khushi,” Ved said seriously. “You don’t have to be so formal–”

“Oh good, so I don’t have to send you an invitation card? A WhatsApp reminder will be enough?”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to invite me. It’s Arnav’s night, let him enjoy it with his family–”

“You are family at this point Ved.”

“Is there any chance I can change your mind?”

She grinned. “Not in the slightest. Now are you going to finish the joke or not?”

“You are too stubborn for your own good Khushi,” he grumbled with a sigh. “So where was I again? The doctor and his wife–”

“–argue,” Khushi interrupted, bored with the repetition. “He says she isn’t good in bed, goes to work and starts feeling guilty. I swear, if you are gonna be this slow, the punch line won’t even be funny.”

“That’s because your husband clearly cannot bear separation from you even for a few hours,” Ved muttered drily. “Anyway, so the doc feels guilty and calls his wife to make amends… except, she doesn’t pick up the phone–”

“Figures,” Khushi cut-in, unable to help herself. “It takes two to tango in bed, it’s not her fault if their sex life isn’t up to the mark.”

“It’s a joke Khushi–”

Another buzz of her phone. 

“Yes, yes,” she muttered, glancing at the phone screen. It was from Arnav again. “So, what happened to the wife?”

“Well, she eventually picks up the phone after an hour and the doctor, obviously frustrated, asks, ‘what took you so long’–”

On cue, Khushi’s phone went off and this time, it wasn’t just one beep. Several messages flooded her inbox one after the other causing the phone to vibrate almost off the table.  

“Okay that’s it,” Ved groaned, slumping in his chair. “If you don’t call Arnav, I will. This is just incessant.”

“Sorry–”

“No, don’t apologize. Clearly, it’s something urgent, so just talk to him– we can chat later.”

Khushi was relieved. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” he replied with a grin. Collecting his coffee cup, he stood up to leave.

“Before you leave,” Khushi asked. “What did the wife tell the husband?”

“She said she was in bed, that’s why she couldn’t pick up the phone.”

Khushi didn’t understand what was so funny about that. 

Ved pressed on: “Then the doctor says, ‘what were you doing in bed this late?’ and the wife replies, ‘getting a second opinion’.”

Khushi chortled. That was indeed a good joke. 

“Told you it was funny,” Ved said, smug. “See you in the afternoon?”

Khushi nodded. “See you.”

She waited until he left the cafeteria before opening Arnav’s some twenty-odd messages, most of them just pictures of what appeared to be various chefs posing in the kitchen. 

Utterly confused, she dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring. 

“Good morning Dr. Gupta,” he said, his baritone voice forcing her to miss a breath or two. 

“G-good morning… why are you spamming my inbox with chef pictures?”

“What chef pictures?”

“Didn’t you just forward pictures of different people in a kitchen, flaunting around their chef-ness?”

“Tsk tsk… you are becoming like me Dr. Gupta. Chef-ness is not a word.”

“It should be… how else do I explain you?”

“There are many words to describe me: young, smart, handsome–”

“Cocky would work too.”

Arnav chuckled. “Why, do you not find me handsome?”

Only if you knew. 

Instead, she changed the topic: “So, what’s so urgent that you couldn’t wait for me to come home?” 

“Well, I need to order new aprons for the chefs, and I wanted your two cents.”

Oh. The pictures made a lot of sense now. Asking him to hold, she browsed through the images he had sent, seeing the apron each person was wearing. 

“I like the blue one,” she told him. 

“Really?” he asked, surprised. “Not the black?”

“Black is too standard. The blue ones look different… and you should get the names stitched in like that. Looks very professional.”

“Hmm,” he answered more to himself than her. “So time to switch out my black apron too then.”

“Absolutely not!” Khushi fired without thinking. “Black looks good on you… For your staff, blue will suffice.”

A small pause. “Black looks good on me?” 

Khushi felt her cheeks tingle. What was with him today? First asking her if he was handsome and now asking her about how he looks in black… 

“You there?” he called when she didn’t speak. 

“Yes.”

“Err, yes what? Yes, you’re there or yes–”

“Yes, black looks good on you,” she admitted shyly. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Many things,” he answered without hesitation. “But for now, this will suffice… I’ll see you in the eve–”

“Oh wait, you never told me why I have to be home early today?”

“If I told you everything on the phone, what will there be left to see?”

“Is it a surprise? If you got me a present, you can tell me on the phone, I really won’t–”

He didn’t let her finish. “What present I could possibly get you seeing that you’ve given me everything I have?”

“That’s not true,” she mumbled, feeling her heart swell. “Seriously Arnav… one of these days, you have to teach me how to give out these compliments.” 

Arnav laughed. “See you are six Dr. Gupta… try not to dazzle the hospital too much.”

And the phone went dead. 

Grinning ear to ear, Khushi tucked her phone away and skipped back to her office, all too eager to get through the mountain of charts waiting to be filled out on her desk. She spent the remainder of the day incessantly checking her watch, monitoring the hour hand slog through the afternoon, impatiently waiting for it to hit five, the time her shift would end, and she would be allowed to run home. 

But didn’t they say everything usually went wrong the one time you desperately wanted it to go right?

Just as Khushi changed out of her scrubs and was about to head out for the day, Dr. Awasti paged her, assigning her a VIP case. It wasn’t a request, of course. So, swallowing her protests, Khushi was forced to resume work, texting Arnav with a very long apology about the change in plans. Needless to say, he didn’t answer.

By the time Khushi wrapped up with the patient –who had a simple bout of indigestion– and arrived at the penthouse, the clock read 9 o’clock on the dot. Three whole hours later than what she promised. She couldn’t even get herself imagine his disappointment. 

Arnav was sitting in the living room when she timidly entered, dressed in jeans and a fitted plain black t-shirt –did he choose black on purpose?– absorbed in his phone. Most of the lights were dimmed, casting the whole room in a warm, cozy hue of yellow. 

“Hey,” she said hesitantly. 

Far from answering, he didn’t even look up. 

“I am so so so sorry,” she mumbled, sitting across from him on the coffee table. “Awasti wanted me to look at some patient last minute and I just couldn’t say no… did you see my message?”

No answer. 

Khushi checked his ears to make sure there weren’t some invisible earphones. “Please don’t be mad? I know you wouldn’t ask me to be home unless it was urgent, but I swear it wasn’t intentional.”

Arnav merely continued scrolling his screen. 

“Okay, so either you have gone deaf,” Khushi said trying to be humorous. “Or you are too stressed to talk to me– which one is it?”

His jaw moved infinitesimally, clearly fighting a smile. 

“Arnav… look at me, please.”

He didn’t. Annoyed now, Khushi lunged forward and snatched the phone from his hands. He grudgingly met her eyes. 

“Why don’t we start over?” she suggested, relieved to have his attention. “Hi.”

He crossed his arms, refusing to speak. 

Khushi struggled to keep her tone casual. “How about I make dinner today and we can call it even?”

It was a trick question. As a general rule, he almost never left her alone in the kitchen, worried probably that she would set it on fire. She didn’t blame him; after that pizza fiasco on his birthday, she didn’t trust her cooking skills either. 

Far from being horrified, however, Arnav didn’t even blink at her suggestion. 

“What will you like to eat?” Khushi bluffed, standing up. There was no way he would stand by and watch her cook.  

He remained silent.

Having no other choice, Khushi went to the kitchen to see that dinner –spaghetti with what she hoped were vegetarian meatballs– had already been made and was laid out nicely on the kitchen island. 

Her shoulders falling in disappointment, she trudged her way back to the living room to find Arnav in the same position she had left him in. 

“You made dinner already,” she muttered, resuming her place on the coffee table. 

He shrugged his shoulders, as though saying, “Duh.”

“Okay, tell me what I am supposed to do then,” she asked seriously. “To earn your forgiveness?”

Another shrug, this time saying, “I dunno know… you figure it out.”

Khushi grumbled incoherently, trying to recall what he usually did to earn her forgiveness. There weren’t many instances in recent times for reference, however. Somehow, after that trip to NK’s farmhouse, she and Arnav had reached a level of understanding that didn’t let any disagreements escalate out of control. 

The reminder of NK’s farmhouse brought forth a dim memory of Arnav going on his knees, apologizing for commenting about her and her father:

I am very very very sorry Dr. Khushi Kumari Gupta. I promise I will never ever repeat those horrendous words, in fact, I am very thankful that you dared to come and talk to me.

It had been the last ever argument they had. Drawing inspiration from that, Khushi jumped up, pausing dramatically for just a second before kneeling down in front of him, clasping her hands as though in a prayer. 

“I am very very very sorry Mr. Chef… I promise I will never ever repeat this heinous crime, in fact, the next time Awasti asks me to do anything I will tell her my husband comes first–”

Arnav watched her with twinkling eyes, all pretense of anger gone from his face, replaced instead by a mix of astonishment and amusement. 

“There it is,” Khushi said seriously. 

His eyebrows knotted. “What?”

“Your voice,” she answered, cheeky. “It’s back from a short little trip to Thailand.”

Arnav rolled his eyes –although the grin remained etched on his lips– and rose from the sofa, stretching out his hand. Grasping it, Khushi stood up. 

“So, am I forgiven?” she asked. 

“I suppose… Though I would’ve loved to see Awasti’s reaction if you ever told her that your husband comes first.”

Khushi chuckled. “That would be the last time you would see Awasti, because she would undoubtedly fire me.”

Arnav crossed his arms. “So, that’s why you’re late?”

“Yes, and again, I’m very very very sorry,” she said in earnest. “What was the surprise you wanted to show me?”

“Well, since you are late by three hours, the surprise will have to wait.”

“Oh?”

“Dinner first and then we can go.” 

Khushi had no qualms with that. She was starving anyway. 

It turned out that the meatballs with spaghetti were indeed vegetarian. Both of them ate mostly in silence, eager to finish and head out. Exactly thirty minutes later, Arnav was leading her out of the penthouse, down the elevators to the parking lot where his white BMW stood. 

“Err– where exactly are we going?” Khushi asked when he held open the passenger door for her. 

“You’ll see… now come on, I’m getting old here.”

Khushi waited until he was in the driver’s seat before replying: “You are already an old man.”

He pretended to be appalled. “I’m only three years older than you.”

“Only three years older and you’ve already opened a restaurant, are the CEO of a significant company, traveled many countries and have been in a serious relationship… many people don’t get to all of those things even when they are forty.”

Arnav –surprisingly– didn’t answer. His lips, smiling only seconds ago, hardened minutely while his eyes stayed trained on the road in front.

“Do you disagree?” Khushi asked, feeling his silence was odd. 

He shrugged. “I guess for you, all of those things seem important.”

“What do you mean for me? They weren’t for you?”

“I’ve already told you what all of those were: failures. Did I learn from them, one hundred percent yes, but do I wish they didn’t happen? Of course I do.”

Khushi was very surprised to hear the exasperation in his voice. Was he talking about his career choices or… Myra? 

Truth be told, Khushi never gave much thought to his ex-flame after their talk on the porch swing in NK’s farmhouse. She knew Arnav was over her, and that had been more than enough for Khushi. After all, what was the point of dwelling on his past, when he had promised her his future? 

However, hearing his dismayed tone as they drove that evening, Khushi couldn’t help but ask: “So you wish you never had met Myra?”

Arnav kept his face very straight. “Yes.”

“Why? I mean, yeah, the two of you said some unpleasant things, but I’m sure you had some good happy memories together?”

He glanced at her, concerned. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The fact that I had a relationship before. How… how are you sitting here coolly asking me if I was happy with my ex?”

Khushi bit her lip. Perhaps the obvious reaction should be jealousy, but if truth be told, there never had been any competition between her and the mysterious Myra. So pretending that there was one, dragging herself into a discussion that had been long closed, didn’t seem like a wise decision in any context. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” she told him honestly. 

“Why not?”

“Because if you had to be with her, you already would have been. Your break-up clearly happened for a reason…”

Arnav stared at her in disbelief. 

“What?” she asked innocently. 

“It’s very open minded of you to think that,” he answered, shaking his head. “Because many don’t. Lavu literally made Akash block his ex-girlfriend the minute they got engaged.”

Khushi snorted. “That sounds a lot like Lavanya.”

“So, don’t you have the same urge?”

“And what would be the point of that?” Khushi asked. “Will blocking Myra’s number –assuming you still have it– undo the six years you spent with her? Will forbidding you from bringing up her name just erase everything you felt for her?”

“I suppose not…”

“Exactly. I may be inexperienced with these things, but I’m not stupid Arnav. It’s your decision who you want to be with… and I have to respect that.”

Arnav was quiet, his expression too composed to decipher what he was thinking. They crossed a few more traffic lights before he finally hit the brakes, pulling up on a rather familiar street. 

“You’re surprising me with a walk?” Khushi asked peering through the windshield, trying to recollect if she really had come to this part of the city before.  

“Nope,” he answered, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. 

Confused, Khushi followed him, keeping to his left on the deserted sidewalk. 

Stormy clouds were gathering in the night sky, covering the stars in a thick blanket of mist, while heavy winds wreaked havoc in the still air. It was as enchanting as frightening to feel just how powerful the coming storm was. Khushi was trying to fasten her loose hair when a squall of wind suddenly tunneled down the street, blowing her pallu high up into the air, only a meek safety pin keeping it from completely lifting off of her shoulders. 

Before she could react, Arnav caught the fabric in his hands, pulling it down and gazing at it for a full minute before saying: “Pink looks lovely on you.”

Her heart stuttered. “I thought red was your favorite?” 

“It is,” he murmured, gently twisting the pallu around her wrist so that it doesn’t soar recklessly again. “But something about this night and you make me feel otherwise.”

And just like that, the roar of the winds fell silent around her, and the only thing Khushi felt was his warm hand slipping into hers, their fingers interlocking. He was somehow holding her together when every nerve in her body wanted to fall apart. 

This was the Arnav she had been seeing for the last three weeks. The one that made her flush with just one look, the one that made her heart skip with just one brush, the one that gave her his undivided, sole attention. As they walked down the street, hand-in-hand, Khushi felt as if she was every much his as he was hers. 

Rounding the corner, Arnav came to a stop in front of a row of buildings. That’s when Khushi realized why the streets looked so familiar. They had arrived at the –or rather, his– restaurant, covered up mostly by old newspapers with a large sign pinned on the door saying ‘closed for renovations’.

“You wanted me to see the restaurant in the middle of the night?” she asked, puzzled.

“No,” he answered, pulling out the keys. “I wanted you to see the restaurant at sunset…but we have to work with what we’ve got, right?”

Khushi smiled sheepishly. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” Arnav said as soon as the door was unlocked. 

She obeyed without question and let him walk her inside. She had only taken ten or so steps when he asked her to stop, angled her into position by the shoulders and said:

“Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

Khushi opened her eyes at the exact second the lights flickered on. Her mouth fell open in awe as her eyes scuttled to make sense of the brand new, fully functional and exquisitely decorated restaurant in front of her.  

The area was occupied predominantly by wooden oak tables, lined up neatly across the room, each holding a narrow glass vase with maroon colored tulips in the center and a set of plates, cutlery and condiments. A fully stocked bar occupied the back, while plants of all shapes and sizes covered the left wall, accented by a string of retro lightbulbs winding through them. The remaining walls were all painted a burnt orange colour with tall lanterns affixed every few feet, complimenting the rustic hues. 

Gorgeous wasn’t a good enough word to describe it. 

“Like it?” Arnav asked quietly. He was standing behind her, patiently giving her a chance to take it all in. 

Khushi turned to gawk at him, dumbfounded. 

He shuffled his feet. “I mean if you don’t like it, we still have enough time to change it... I just thought this would look good.” –a brief pause– “Actually, it’s a little bit too dark, right? I think I will get the pot lights switched–”

Khushi silenced him with a finger on his lips. An odd glint overtook his eyes upon feeling her touch. 

“It’s perfect,” she murmured, failing to find any other word good enough. “Don’t change anything.”

He exhaled deeply, running his hands through his hair. “Thank god! You scared me there for a second... I thought you didn’t like it–”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?” Khushi challenged, turning back to inspect the decor. “This is your restaurant Arnav–”

“Ours,” he corrected. “This is ours. And your opinion matters more than mine.”

“Why?”

“Because...”

Khushi waited, but Arnav did not elaborate.

“Because what?” she pressed, looking over her shoulder to catch his expression. 

He took a step closer to her. “Because it just does.... some questions don’t have an answer Dr. Gupta.”

She struggled to keep it together. “Or… you just don’t want to tell me.”

He smiled cryptically in answer. “Would you like a tour of the place?”

“Please.”

He stepped around her, leading her to the booths connected to the wall covered in greenery. 

“Was this Maa’s idea?” Khushi asked, running her hands through the numerous vines crisscrossing across the wall. If she recalled correctly, a similar setup was also present in Shantivaan, owing to her mother-in-law’s passion for gardening.  

“Not really,” Arnav replied. “Greenery always attracts more customers, so it was strictly a business decision… But I guess, my mother deserves credit for making me like plants in the first place.”

“Did she get a chance to see this yet?” 

“Of course not. You are the first person to see it… everyone else will see it on opening night.”

Khushi was startled. “Even Anjali and Lavanya?”

“Yes.” Upon catching her incredulous look, he added: “Trust me, I’ve learned the hard way that the less opinions you have in a business, the more peace of mind there will be.”

“Are you telling me then,” Khushi asked, realizing what he meant. “That I have the only and final say in all of this?”

“You have the only and final say in everything… Don’t ever forget that.”

She couldn’t even if she tried to.

The rest of Arnav’s ‘tour’ encompassed a full breakdown of the bar, which apparently, he had personally stocked with some rare and ancient bottles of wine, the waiting area where guests could sit while their table was being arranged and the kitchen, Khushi’s personal favorite. 

Having never seen the interiors of a restaurant before, Khushi was quite fascinated with the numerous, heavy duty, gas stoves lined up at one end of the room. Vast counters equipped neatly with knives of all shapes and sizes covered most the space in between, while a freezer, as big as their bedroom, stood on the other end. She could tell that Arnav had gone all out in arranging the kitchen, in fact, every single item was screaming his name.  And with the way he proudly showed off each spatula, she knew he had prized this room more than all of the others combined. 

“You’re in love,” Khushi said when he had finally finished talking. 

Arnav stiffened. “Hmm?”

“You’re in love with your own kitchen,” she commented with a laugh. “What else did you think I was talking about?”

He gave her a long, hard look. “The list is quite endless… so overall, you liked the place then?”

“I loved it,” she assured him. “Where can I get a copy of this list?” 

Arnav shrugged. “That, unfortunately, is a secret.”

“You don’t have to tell me all of it, I will be happy with the top five.”

“Nice try, but I think it’s getting late and we should get going.”

Flashing her a wide smile, he pushed through the double doors of the kitchen, walking coolly back to the main sitting area. Khushi trailed after him. 

“I’m serious Arnav,” she called, sprinting to catch up to him. “Do you not trust me with your secrets?”

He stopped at the main entrance, keys ready in his hand. “Someday, yes… but for now, let’s go.”

Khushi stomped across the granite floor, sulking. She stepped out of the main door to see that the thunderous clouds had given away to a heavy downpour of rain. It was so weird that neither of them had noticed while inside. 

“What are we going to do?” Khushi asked, taking cover under a small canopy over the restaurant’s entryway. 

He briefly glanced at the raindrops splattering around them. “What do you mean?” he asked, stepping out and locking the door. 

“It’s raining… and the car is a block away. How are we going to get home?”

Arnav gave her an incredulous look. “I didn’t know your legs aren’t functional in the rain. Has it been like this since childhood?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Hilarious… but we can’t walk in the rain.”

“Why not?”

“Because my mom says we’ll get sick.” 

It wasn’t until the words had left her mouth that Khushi realized how stupid she must have sounded. She was a grown woman for crying out loud!

Arnav pursued his lips, trying very hard not to laugh. He dramatically looked to his left and then to his right, before saying: “Well… your mom isn’t here right now. So, I think we’ll be okay.”

Khushi looked at her feet, embarrassed. “Right… so we run for it?”

“Or,” he replied, casually taking a step forward out of the shade of the canopy and into the rain. “We can also walk.”

It didn’t even take a minute for him to be soaked, so heavy was the rain. His fitted black tee hugged every contour of his upper body, while his usually perfectly gelled hair slumped down, dripping on to his forehead. Even the slight stubble on his jaw looked enticing underneath the downpour. 

Khushi shook her head, scolding herself for getting distracted. Taking a deep breath, she followed his lead. 

The rain was colder than she had imagined, the thick water droplets reverberating off her flushed skin with added force. She shivered at the onslaught of the drops, feeling them trail down her back, drenching her hair, her blouse and even her saree. But amidst the iciness, there was one thing she absolutely could not deny: getting wet in the rain was liberating. 

Sure her lightweight cotton saree was beginning to feel like a boulder, sure tendrils of her hair were stuck annoyingly to her face, sure goosebumps ran wild along her entire body… but as the water dripped from the tip of forehead to the ends of her toes, she felt every last inch of fatigue being washed away, every small wound closing shut, every bead of stress melting away. The rain, somehow, was rejuvenating her. 

Closing her eyes, Khushi turned her chin upwards, spreading out her arms, overcome with a desire to embrace the storm itself.  

“This is the first time you’re getting wet in the rain, isn’t it?” Arnav murmured next to her. 

She nodded, a giggle escaping her. “How did you know?”

“Just a feeling.”

She snuck a glance at him. His hands tucked neatly into his front pockets, he appeared quite amused. 

“My mom was pretty strict with the rain,” Khushi explained, letting her arms drop. “She was paranoid we would get sick.” 

“Every mother says that… but every kid ignores it and sneaks out anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I was a nerd for a reason.”

Arnav titled his head to the side, as though looking at her with a new lens. 

Feeling shy underneath his piercing gaze, Khushi looked at her feet. Her saree had now turned translucent, sticking to her frame like second skin. If she had been with anyone other than him, she probably would have felt very conscious of the amount of skin peeking through. 

As if reading her thoughts, Arnav laced his fingers with hers, pulling her protectively to his side and setting off down the street, the warmth of his body keeping the chill of the winds at bay. 

They had almost made it to the car, when Arnav unexpectedly asked:

“Have you kissed anyone?”

Khushi stumbled in her steps. He caught her waist like a reflex, steadying her.

“W-what?” she croaked.

“Did you kiss anyone?” he repeated, unabashed. 

From the corner of her eyes, Khushi could make out the shining headlights of his white BMW. He must have used the remote starter. 

 Clearing her throat, she said, “I told you already… I never had a boyfriend.”

Arnav turned the full force of his eyes on her. “You don’t have to be in a relationship to kiss someone Khushi.”

She gingerly met his gaze, glowing with urgency and passion. “Do… do you think I walk around the streets kissing strangers?” 

“No, I don’t think that at all,” he answered. Did his voice always sound so husky? “But surely… you have been on a date in college and in the heat of the moment, you…”

His eyes flickered to her lips suggestively. Khushi felt as if something hot slipped down her throat, igniting her very core. 

“I-I don’t want a kiss like that,” she stammered. 

He leaned in –how was there still space in between them?!– and whispered, “Then, what kind of a kiss do you want?”

“Umm…” –she hesitantly took a step back– “I… I never had time to think about that… b-but… why are you asking me all this?”

He was clearly enjoying himself. “Why are you getting so flustered? I’m just curious.”

Khushi tried to take a calming breath. “C-curious of what? I’m an open book to you…”

He took a bold step forward, covering the little distance she put in between them. “I’m curious Dr. Gupta… to know if the nerd you flaunt around is actually a nerd.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Arnav stretched out his right hand and ran it along her face, smoothening out her tangled wet hair, tucking it securely behind her ear. But he didn’t stop there… his fingers delicately trailed down to her neck, skipping delicately across to her uncovered back –courtesy of the almost backless blouse she chose to wear– before finally reaching the small of her back. Tightening his hold, he encircled her entire frame with his left arm, bringing her quivering form against his strong chest. 

Like a moth to a flame, Khushi stood transfixed. All she saw, heard and felt was… him.  

“When I do this,” he purred, his voice barely audible over the rain. “Do you feel nothing?”

She couldn’t find her voice, let alone words to explain the longing burning through her. 

He seized her free right hand and brought it to rest on the center of his chest, where his heart was supposed to be. 

“When we are this close, does your heart not race?”

Khushi tried to swallow, but her throat insisted on being parched. 

Still holding her right hand, he directed her delicate fingers across his jaw, letting his stubble lightly graze the inside of her palm. 

“Did you never want to do this,” he continued. “To feel me… to know me… to own me?”

Yes… yes, she did. 

He let her arm fall back to her side. “I guess,” he finished. “What I really want to know is what the woman behind this confident, tough and resilient nerd feels when I do this…”

Arnav leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her quivering lips, his intentions inexplicably clear. Khushi was sure her heart had stopped, why else couldn’t she will her lungs to expand? And more importantly, how strange was it that just this morning she had been fantasizing about feeling his lips on hers and here they stood, drenched to the core, rain blurring everything out of sight, about to share their first kiss? 

Except… was she ready? 

For the first time in her whole life, Khushi wished she had indeed gone on some date in college and kissed someone. Even if it was meaningless, at least, she wouldn’t be so clueless now. What did kissing even entail? Was she supposed to just stand there and let him do the work? What if she wasn’t good? What if she didn’t meet his expectations? What if she kissed so badly that he dropped all intentions of pursuing a relationship with her? 

As these sudden questions burst through her mind, Khushi realized with a jolt that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kiss him like this. Call it fear, anxiety or plain insecurity… whatever it was, all she knew (and cared) was that their first time had to be better than an impromptu decision in the middle of nowhere. And before that, she needed to figure out how to give a French kiss, properly that is. 

Just as Arnav tilted his head to claim her lips, Khushi –reluctantly– turned away, her nose briefly brushing against his. He did a double take, leaning back to stare at her, totally perplexed. 

“It’s… um… it’s getting late,” she whispered, unable to face him. 

He stretched out his index finger to nudge her chin back to his unflinching stare. “You’re blushing.”

Of course she was blushing! 

It was a miracle that she hadn’t yet burst into flames. Not finding a fitting reply, Khushi placed her palms against his toned abdomen and gently pushed him back, hurrying out of his embrace back to the sanctuary of the car. Just before opening the door to the passenger seat, she coyly glanced over her shoulder to see Arnav running his hands through his hair… laughing.  

And that’s when Khushi finally understood. Everything he was doing –the flirting and the late nights and the kisses– they were all one hundred percent intentional.  

Arnav Singh Raizada liked her. 

He most definitely wanted her. 

And there was very little doubt left that he loved her too.

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A/N: Aaannddd I'm back 

Thank you for being such amazing readers and waiting patiently... I'm feeling much better. How did you like this chapter? It (unexpectedly) ended up being 21 pages on word... somehow, ArShi always end up writing themselves 😉

Please like & comment... as always, your thoughts are what keeps me going ❤️❤️❤️ Next chapter will be up next Thursday (late evening as usual, Eastern time zone). 

P.S. - Khushi chickening out of the kiss at the last moment is a true story 😂🙈 Did it happen to anyone else?

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