Chapter 60: Trust

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Chapter Sixty

Trust

She was running towards him covered in a long gown of pearls, her hair flying like wisps of smoke in the wind. Her tawny skin was glowing underneath the setting –or was it rising?– sun, her face bright and full of life. 

Within seconds –or hours, for time held no meaning as he stood– her frame crashed into his, her tender eyes alluring, her glossy lips inviting. Without a warning, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, snaking her arms around his neck, gentle, docile, and teasing.

He had none of it. 

With a hand on her waist and another in her silky locks, he pulled her close, deepening the kiss. She responded with fervor, clutching him more tightly, her fingers running through his hair. 

It felt so good, too good in fact… he never wanted it to end. 

And just like that, her hands suddenly slipped underneath his shirt with an urgency he knew quite well, tugging it, lifting it over his head. He mirrored her, sliding off her dress–

Arnav woke up with a start. 

The clock on the bedside table chimed 2 o’clock in the morning, and the girl whose lips he could still feel against his, was sleeping blissfully beside him, unaware of the desire raking him apart. 

Arnav took a long, deep breath. 

It was just a dream, he told himself with utter disappointment. One of those rare ones which left you longing and restless… only, could something that real, something that right, only be a figment of his imagination? 

A solid week had passed since he had taken Khushi to see the newly renovated restaurant and lost all sense of control watching her drenched in the rain, her saree hiding nothing, her smile infectious and naïve. Although she had gently brushed away his reckless advances that night, the urge to claim her lips hadn’t subsided in the least, haunting him now even in his sleep. 

In retrospect, Arnav’s lapse of judgement wasn’t all too surprising. Ever since his conversation with Lavanya on the eve of Vihaan’s departure to London, he had religiously been watching every minute emotion that overcame him at the mere thought of Khushi, practically holding a magnifying glass to it, imagining himself as a dressed down version of Sherlock Holmes trying to find the missing clue of an enigmatic puzzle. 

It turned out the missing clue wasn’t missing at all… it had been there since the very beginning, sitting in front of him, waiting for his acknowledgment. And hung up as he was on his failures, he had been totally oblivious. Oblivious of the admiration taking root in his heart for Khushi; oblivious of the respect she earned by giving him space, compromise and understanding in return for his silence, brooding and sometimes, plain rude behavior. Her maturity in handling his immaturity should have been the first sign that she was different from all the girls he had met, that it was all destined to begin with. 

Perhaps that was too early to realize. 

But what excuse did he have for not understanding when he figured out how much she sacrificed for their marriage –courtesy of her father, of course– and didn’t complain even once? From where did she draw such strength, such resilience? It was one thing to be mature, but to handle such a cruel life with a smile? Hadn’t he been floored then itself? 

And what about that time during Holi when his heart took off upon seeing her, upon feeling her cheek against his? Or that time he was admitted in the hospital, and she took care of him more than his own mother? And what about all those times she made it clear how much she respected him, his integrity and his caring? She had believed in him when even he couldn’t himself. She was patient when he was broken, reproaching when obstinate, kind when lost… she had literally pulled him up from the ashes. 

Weren’t those all signs?! 

Didn’t he learn that love was being selfless, love was acceptance, love was trust? All things Khushi couldn’t have said more plainly when she sold her wedding jewelry to buy him another chance and all things Myra felt weren’t good enough for a life with him. What more did he possibly need to understand and accept why destiny chose Khushi as his wife? 

It was all so stupid. He had been looking all over the world for a sense of belonging and all along, it had been sitting next to him in his very own apartment!

Because that was what Khushi was… she was his home. She accepted him without any expectations or complaints, embraced his flaws and strengths with equal delight and now, stood tall beside him like an unwavering pillar. 

That was love. Plain and simple. 

And he had been denying it until now, convinced and adamant that going back down the road of love was futile, when in fact he had been on that road since day one of meeting Khushi. Thank god that his sisters understood that, and pushed him to think deeper about the platonic friendzone he had forced his relationship into… otherwise, he might never have realized how unfair he had been treating Khushi by dumping his own baggage on her and might never have given himself the chance to see her as a true partner. 

And from the minute he tucked away those inhibitions, his fears and scars, and let loose the feelings lying dormant, it became clear just how deeply he had fallen for Khushi. Almost everything about her was tantalizing, whether it was her clever words or twinkling laugh or innocent face… it was like she had been handpicked just for him.

Everything came easy from that point onwards, of course. Arnav had, in fact, felt a deep sense of relief the week after Vihaan’s departure to London when he stopped questioning the currents in between them and simply let himself be. Every time he needed her, he summoned her unashamed. Every time he found her beautiful, he told her unabashed. Every time he was frustrated, he vented out unapologetic. In short, he had owned up to his rights as her husband without fear. 

And she reciprocated beautifully. She welcomed his surprise visits to the hospital, his impromptu midnight walks… she blushed every time he complimented her, laughed every time he cracked a joke. She didn’t even shy away when he would wander to her side of the bed at night and nestle in her embrace. The only exception, however, had been their just-miss kiss in the rain last week. 

Arnav gritted his teeth at the memory. Kicking back the covers, he got out of bed, sleep driven far from his mind. 

He wished he had resisted the impulse to kiss her that night, although at that moment, watching her soaked, her wet saree putting her perfect curves on display, the option to resist didn’t exist. While she may be playing along with his harmless flirting, there was no way she was ready to move forward without having the ‘talk’… the talk he had been dreading and avoiding since last week when she told him she didn’t feel insecure about Myra. 

No matter how open-minded and practical she was, Arnav was sure Khushi wouldn’t be so welcoming of the fact that he and Myra had lived together at one point and might have even had a child. No one in all honesty would be. 

And perhaps, even more worrisome than that was how he was supposed to even break the news to her. He had kept Myra’s abortion so tightly closed –hiding it even from Lavanya– that he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to confess it now, so many months later. Yes, it was the right thing to do, but was the right thing always the best thing?

Myra had vanished from his life without a trace, and it was clear that she was never going to come back. So was there anypoint to revisiting her chapter? Rationality said no, but the guilt cutting into his stomach said otherwise.

No matter which way Arnav looked it, it was evident that Khushi deserved to know. She had been nothing but honest with him since the beginning, so at the very least, he too should return the courtesy. It was another thing, however, that her past contained nothing that could jeopardize their relationship. She was lucky in that sense: no murky secrets or painful heartbreaks to hide or escape from. 

It was a tricky dilemma, and Arnav didn’t see how he was ever going to solve it without risking dire consequences. What if after hearing the full truth Khushi decided to leave? True, she had been patient and understanding of his situation until now, but what was the guarantee that she had enough patience to digest the news of his –now gone– child? 

Arnav sighed, feeling as though he was banging his head against a wall. He aimlessly crept through the darkened penthouse, his feet carrying him all the way to the kitchen which to date had never failed in giving him solace. 

Shuffling through the drawers, he began to pull out baking ingredients, making a spur-of-the-moment decision to whip up brownies. Just as he reached for the flour in the upper cabinets, however, the container slipped from his grip and went tumbling down to the floor with a dull thud, spraying its contents everywhere.

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath, looking down to see white flour coating his entire body. 

Feeling too lazy to go inside and change –and also risk waking Khushi up– he simply shrugged off his t-shirt and attempted washing off the flour at the kitchen sink. He had just begun sweeping the floor when a groggy voice echoed through the air:

“Arnav?”

He turned on his heels to see Khushi squinting underneath the fluorescent kitchen lights, looking quite adorable in pink satin pajamas, her hair in disarray and her expression confused. 

“Why are you covered in…” her eyes trailed from his forehead all the way down to his bare chest, where she froze, all of a sudden nervous. 

He couldn’t help but smirk. All the Myra complications aside, there was one thing he couldn’t absolutely deny: Khushi was worse than a teenager with intimacy and that innocence brought him immense joy (and countless occasions to tease her). 

“What’s wrong?” he asked with pretend politeness. 

She awkwardly met his eyes. “Erm… why are you up so late? And… what’s with all the flour?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep… so thought I should make some brownies.”

“Right,” she muttered. “Because sugar is exactly what will help you sleep.”

Arnav chuckled. “Why are you awake?”

Khushi looked at her feet. “Erm… just like that.”

“Bad dreams?”

“No, no… I just…”

“I hope you realize that fumbling with an excuse like this makes me hella curious… and you know what happens when I’m curious.”

She sighed, relenting. “I can tell when you aren’t there… you know, beside me… so I woke up.”

Arnav felt his heart soar. “Me too,” he admitted quietly, brushing aside the spilt flour and bending down to collect it.

She was surprised. “Really?”

“You really underestimate me,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not completely heartless.”

“When did I ever say you’re heartless? If anything, you are too much heart.”

“Are you complaining about that?”

Khushi grinned and took a seat at the kitchen island. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good,” he replied standing up, satisfied with the now spotless floor. “Because frankly, the whole angry young man thing is overrated… I don’t really understand why girls are obsessed with it.”

“And you know what girls want because…?”

He flashed her an impish smile. “I’m not a novice Dr. Gupta. I did my fair share of research back in the day.”

“And may I ask what your findings were?” 

“Girls like cheerful guys,” he answered nonchalantly, retrieving a large glass bowl to mix the batter. “Guys who crack a joke or two, guys who throw in some compliments here and there.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Flexing his left arm, he added cheekily: “And it doesn’t hurt to be fit either.”

Khushi didn’t react. Instead, she calmly leaned forward, resting her arms on the granite slab in front of her and said, “I see… and what about women? What do they want?”

He didn’t miss the added emphasis. “Err– did you hear anything I just said?” 

“I did.”

Arnav frowned, absentmindedly transferring all the ingredients into the bowl. “So you don’t buy any of it? You think the flowers and compliments are all useless?”

“Not at all. If Lavanya’s stories are true, I’m sure they were very useful to you in college.”

“I should seriously put an end to these solo trips you’re taking with Lavu– she is blabbing way too much.”

“At least she is giving me information! All you give me is silence.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” he fired, cracking two eggs into the batter. “What have you asked me that I didn’t answer?”

“As of this second, you didn’t answer what you think women want?”

“That,” he told her pointedly, whisking the batter now. “Is unfortunately a philosophical debate that even scholars have not reached a consensus to.”

Khushi was unimpressed with his sarcasm. “I thought the answer would be easy for you... seeing as you’re already following it.”

“I am?”

She nodded. 

Arnav racked his brains. Sure, he had charm when it came to girls, but other than that there was nothing special he was doing to earn their favor. Wasn’t that one of the many reasons Myra had chosen to leave him? That he wasn’t doing anything real for their relationship and all his promises were just plain words?

“You really underestimate yourself Mr. Chef,” Khushi said after a few moments. “All women want is men letting them be who they are… the jokes and the compliments and the biceps are all what you guys think we need.” 

Huh. 

Arnav had never thought about it like that. For as long as he could remember, he always felt that the extraordinary things were what kept a romance alive even after age had come to pass. But to hear that it was the utterly ordinary things that mattered… he had no idea how to feel about that. 

“That’s it?” he clarified. “So are you telling me that the tulips I gave you two days ago meant nothing?”

“You are not getting me–”

“No, I do… I’m just saying that all the understanding aside, girls do enjoy being pampered.”

“Who doesn’t enjoy being pampered?” she asked rhetorically. “But that’s not what women seek out in a relationship, trust me. For example, over the years, my father has gifted my mother priceless jewelry, but if you asked her what she loved the most about my father, she would probably say the respect he gave her as a wife, which given my father’s notions doesn’t seem like much, but for my mother, it was everything… do you get what I’m saying?”

“With astounding clarity. In fact, you just saved me from a lifetime’s expense of tulips.”

Khushi sighed in exasperation, but her eyes twinkled in humor just the same. “You say that now, but I don’t think you can resist the urge to bring me flowers next time you come to pick me up at the hospital.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re obsessed with the idea of pampering me.”

“No,” he objected. “I’m trying to impress you.”

“Then you may as well stop, I’m quite impressed as it is.”

But would she still be after he came clean to her about his past? 

Not wanting to think about it, Arnav changed the topic: “How is your mother by the way? You went down to see her today, right?” 

“She’s okay… her vitals are slowing down, but not as fast as Dr. Madan –her doctor– had made it seem.”

He nodded grimly. “And your father…?”

“Fine I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound good.”

She crossed her arms. “No, I’m not saying it in a bad way… I really do think he’s fine.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he was sitting in the lawn having his evening tea, reading his favorite book… and when he saw me leaving, he actually called me over instead of sending Ramesh to talk to me.”

“Should I be impressed that your father asked you to stay for tea?”

“Well, given our history, yes.”

“And let me guess, you said no?”

She gave him a shrewd look. “You have no faith in me, do you?”

Arnav glanced at her, a little anxious. “Of course I have faith in you Khushi.”

“But?”

 “It’s… it’s just that when it comes to your father, you become… emotional.”

“I see,” she said, taking a dramatic pause. “Well in that case, you should be very proud that I didn’t become emotional and stayed for tea.”

The whisk slipped from his hands with a clink. 

Khushi smirked at the bewilderment on his face. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Arnav asked, outraged that he was hearing this so late. 

She shrugged. “What’s there to tell? It was all small talk… ‘how is Arnav doing, did you talk to Vihaan’ blah bla–”

Khushi broke off midsentence, her eyes widening in recollection. “Oh, that reminds me! Wait a sec.”

Jumping off the stool, she disappeared into the living room, returning only seconds later with the day’s newspaper. She quickly flipped through the pages and folded down on the advertisement she was looking for. 

“Look at this,” she said proudly, setting it on the island. 

It was an advertisement for his own restaurant, printed boldly with the date of opening along with an invite to attend. Arnav had given his newly hired manager, Saket, the task of publicizing the restaurant many weeks ago now. Caught up with other arrangements, however, he never ended up following up on it. Not that he needed to, of course. Saket was well-versed with managing a restaurant, bringing with him almost a decade of experience. And seeing the striking announcement staring back at him, Arnav could not be happier with the decision to appoint him. 

“Looks quite official, doesn’t it?” he murmured, re-reading the date stamped across the paper. 

“Very,” Khushi answered. “You know, I’m honestly very proud at how calm you’re keeping. The restaurant opens tomorrow night, and you aren’t anywhere close to a panic attack.” 

Arnav held up the bowl of brownie batter in answer. “I’m coping.”

She chuckled. “You have nothing to be nervous about Arnav… You did everything right. The place is looking gorgeous, the chefs are beyond perfection at this point. Even my father couldn’t resist giving you a compliment.”

“Your father knows?” he asked blankly being too slow to connect the dots. 

“Yeah… he’s the one who showed me the newspaper ad actually.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Arnav groaned. “What did he say? Was he surprised? Angry?”

“Not in the slightest… if anything he kind of seemed relieved that you weren’t giving up your inheritance for this.”

That was news. Arnav wasn’t expecting any understanding or acceptance of his restaurant from the senior Gupta. 

“Does he know that you sold your jewelry for this?”

“I doubt it. He is too preoccupied with the company now that Vihaan’s gone… I think he is finally seeing what Vihaan is worth.”

“Of course he is… people that obstinate learn things the hard way. Have you talked to Vihaan recently?”

“He is living the dream,” Khushi said with a flicker of annoyance. “My Whatsapp is flooded with pictures of him and Ahana being perfect tourists.”

Arnav laughed. “That sounds like jealousy.”

“I am jealous! I mean I didn’t know London could be that much fun, if I did–”

“You would have gone with him?”

Khushi stopped short, alarmed. “H-how… how do you know about that?”

He put down the whisk and looked seriously at her. “Does it matter? You were never going to tell me, were you?”

“It’s not important–”

“You had a chance to walk out of this and you chose to stay? How is that not important Khushi?”

She gazed at him, her expression thoughtful and uncertain at the same time. Choosing her words with great care, she said: “I have a chance to walk out every single minute of every single day Arnav… We both can agree that our circumstances now are not the same as they were six months ago.”

True. But that wasn’t his point. 

“You could have been free of your father,” he replied. “Why wouldn’t you choose that?”

“Yes, free of my father…. But at the cost of you, no?”

He didn’t answer. It was obvious that she had stayed for him, but he couldn’t believe that she was actually admitting to it, and that too, to him. Frozen, he waited for her continue. 

“The way I see it,” she continued coolly. “I couldn’t live with the thought of spoiling Vihaan’s life before and now, I can’t live with the thought of leaving you behind… This marriage was my choice, still is and will always be.”

Arnav let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. How simply she explained her stance, how eloquently she accepted that life without him was unforgiveable for her. Did he need anything more to embrace his future with her?

Walking around the counter, he came to a stop beside her. “It’s my choice too,” he told her in earnest.

She smiled, her eyes glowing.  

“And since we are being honest with each other,” he continued with an inaudible sigh. “There’s something we need to… discuss.”

“Oh?”

This was it. It didn’t matter if telling her about Myra was the right thing or best thing to do, because what she needed in return for her resolute trust was the truth. His conscience wouldn’t let him be otherwise.

“It’s about Myra,” he began gravely. “And what you said the other night about being okay…”

Khushi looked down at her hands, suddenly fiddling with her fingers. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked without missing a beat. He could read her reactions better than probably she herself. 

“Nothing… it’s just…”

“Just what?”

She took a deep breath. “Is it bad if I say I don’t want to know?”

Huh. That was unexpected. 

“You… you don’t want to know?” he repeated, surprised. 

“No,” she said, frankly. 

“Why not?”

“Because I like knowing that Myra is a closed chapter in your life. Reliving it will make her a present one… and I don’t want that.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” she repeated confidently. “I mean, come on Arnav, your restaurant is opening in less than two days… Isn’t that exciting? Why aren’t we talking about that? Why are you insisting on brooding over the past?”

She had a point, of course, but Arnav didn’t know if he agreed wholeheartedly. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, a feeling he couldn’t name or ignore for that matter. 

“But Khushi,” he interjected, making one last ditch effort. “One day we’ll have to talk about it… it was such a big part of my life, you deserve to know–”

“Fine,” she said, sitting up higher in her chair. “We will. When your restaurant gets stellar reviews and your handsome face is on the front page of Chef Weekly, we will talk about it, okay?”

She was offering him a compromise. 

And he took it without complaint, being much too comforted with Khushi’s warm presence beside him and the thought of his dream coming true tomorrow night to care about much else. Yes, one day they would talk about it, his ex-girlfriend and his unborn child, but that day needn’t have to be today. 

So, all he said as he strode back to finish up his brownie batter was: “There is no magazine called Chef Weekly.” 

“Then we’ll make one,” she answered promptly. “The entire Raizada family will subscribe to it without question.”

“The sad thing is,” Arnav muttered, pulling out a baking tray from the cupboard. “They actually will.”

She grinned, curiously observing him even out the chocolatey batter onto the baking sheet. Somehow, even after all these weeks, she never got bored of watching him cook. 

“By the way,” she said when he tucked away the brownies into the oven to bake. “You’ll have to get an extra thank-you gift for tomorrow night.”

“For Ved? I already got him one.”

She looked slightly guilty, mumbling: “No, it’s for my father… I invited him to come to the opening.”

Arnav’s mouth fell open, utterly baffled. 

“Don’t look at me like that… it’s just an invitation.”

“I’m sorry,” he said shaking his head. “But did I hear it right? You –Dr. Khushi Kumari Gupta– invited your father to the restaurant?!”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic… It just seemed weird not inviting him after he showed me that ad in the newspaper. So I did.”  

“I’m not mad you invited him Khushi, I’m just shocked that you and your father had a conversation without bringing down the house.”

Khushi grinned, sheepish. “My mother would’ve said the same… actually, why don’t you just give him the extra gift?”

“What extra gift?”

“The one you left on my nightstand… I think you forgot it while wrapping the gifts yesterday.”

If Arnav’s hands weren’t covered in brownie batter, he would have definitely slapped his forehead in exasperation. 

What was he going to do with this woman?!

He had indeed left a gift on her nightstand, but it wasn’t a remnant of the thank-you gifts he had spent all evening packing yesterday to distribute on opening night. It was a gift he got specifically for her. 

“What?” she asked, when he continued to stare at her bemused. 

“Did you even open the package?”

“No, why would I? It was so beautifully wrap–”

“Khushi,” he stressed, exhaling. “That gift was for you… if you read the note on top, you would have known.”

She appeared perplexed, as if what he said were some nonsensical words in a foreign language. “A gift…?”

“For you, yes. Why else would I leave it on your nightstand?”

Khushi instantly slid off her stool and went running out of the kitchen, emerging a minute later with the gift in question: a thin rectangular box wrapped in champagne colored foil, topped with a white satin ribbon. 

“This one?” she asked, holding it up for inspection. 

“Yeah, and if you noticed,” he added sourly for he had put quite some time and thought into it. “It looks nothing like the thank-you gifts for the guests.”

“That’s not fair!” she snapped. “You used the same wrapping paper as those, how was I supposed to know?”

“Oh, my apologies Princess Gupta… next time I will make sure the wrapping paper is encrusted with solitaire diamonds, so you won’t have any chance of missing it.”

She sulked. “Hilarious… and by the way, there is no note on it.”

Having finished cleaning the dirty dishes, Arnav quickly wiped his hands dry before reaching forward to flip the box in her hands and point to his scrawny writing in black ink on the upper right corner. 

She bit her lip. “Oh…”

Shaking his head, he stepped around her to check on the brownies, rising steadily in the oven, filling with kitchen with a mouthwatering chocolatey aroma. 

Behind him Khushi read the note out loud: “To my favorite human, roses are red, violets are blue… Please accept this present, I got it especially for you.”

She giggled, her voice sounding like a perfect trill of bells. He could listen to it all day. 

“There is a P.S.,” he told her over his shoulder. 

She glanced back down at the package and read on: “P.S. – My hearty apologies for the lackluster poem, I promise the present inside isn’t.”

“Setting the expectations a bit high, aren’t we?” she joked, proceeding to rip open the giftwrap. 

Arnav simply smiled and let her unwrap the box in silence. 

Nestled inside was a sparkling, cherry-red saree in airy chiffon. Khushi couldn’t help but gasp upon seeing it, her eyes widening in awe as her fingers brushed over the delicate fabric, feeling the intricate beadwork –all in hues of rouge– on the borders. 

“Like it?” he asked, watching her in fascination. 

“It’s beautiful,” she answered softly, too amazed to speak coherently. “Where… when… how did you get…?”

“That, unfortunately, is a secret… The plan was to give it to you on opening night, but as Lavu kindly pointed out, there is the small issue of blouse.”  

“You even got the blouse stitched?” Khushi exclaimed. 

“It’s underneath the saree.”

She dived through the box, pulling out the blouse in question, stitched perfectly to her size with heavy beadwork covering the short sleeves and back. 

“Judging by the look on your face,” Arnav said smugly. “I got brownie points for getting the blouse done, isn’t it?”

“You get all the points for getting the blouse done,” she muttered, unable to take her eyes off the embroidery. “Do you have any idea how insanely busy tailors in Delhi are?”

“Of course. I grew up with three women in the house, remember? If the tailor isn’t busy, then the tailor isn’t good enough.”

Khushi chuckled. “But how did you know my size?”

“Oh Dr. Gupta, you’re too naive for your own good.”

She pouted in answer and tucked the saree neatly back into the box. 

“Wait– aren’t you going to try it on?” 

“I thought this was for opening night?”

Arnav scratched his head. “It is... but you can try it on and see if the size is correct?”

It was a lame excuse and the knowing look in her eyes told him that she felt the same. 

“We’ll find out the authenticity of your blouse measuring skills tomorrow night,” she piped. “When my hair –hopefully– won’t look like a chicken’s nest.” 

He sighed, deciding to let it go. He waited this long, what was one more night? 

Out loud, however, he said: “Chicken? I was thinking it was more of a duck’s nest.”

“At least I don’t need to take care of white hairs like you,” she retorted without hesitation. “You seriously shouldn’t be skipping your salon appointments old man.”

Arnav pulled on oven mitts –there was just ten seconds left on the timer– saying without menace: “That’s just flour Dr. Gupta, not–”

“You sure about that?” 

The timer went off with a ring, forcing Arnav to retrieve the now fully baked brownies from the oven and set it on the kitchen counter to cool. 

“Is it… erm… safe for you to be baking without any clothes on?” came Khushi’s hesitant voice from behind him. 

Instinctively, Arnav looked down to see that his sweatpants were still very much in place. “What are you talking about?” he asked, confused. 

“Your shirt,” she answered in the same tone. “Why… why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Oh. 

Turning around, Arnav leaned on the kitchen counter, his smirk back in its place. “Why? Does seeing this old man without a shirt bother you?”

“For your kind information, I have seen many people without clothes on. I’m a doctor, reme–”

“Oh, so it’s just seeing me without clothes on that bothers you then?”

“It doesn’t bother me!” she snapped, although her eyes refusing to look anywhere but his forehead said otherwise.

“No?”

“I mean, you can get burned working in such close contact with the oven… your skin is too exposed is all I’m saying.”

Arnav straightened up and deliberately took a few steps closer to her. “You sure you’re okay?”

She looked into his eyes, attempting to be confident. “Y-yes…”

“Really?”

She inhaled deeply. 

He was standing in front of her now. “So it really doesn’t bother you if I’m this close?” 

She shook her head in negative. 

He reached forward to slip his hands around her unassuming waist. “How about now?”

She tensed instinctively. “Y-you already asked me this Arnav.” 

Her trembling lips from last week in the rain flashed before his eyes. 

“But you never gave me an answer,” he pointed out, recollecting how she shyly pushed him away and ran for cover. 

Khushi lowered her gaze, staring at his arms twisted around her frame. “Do… do you not know?” 

He most definitely did, but he wanted to hear it from her. He knew that she trusted him with her eyes closed, that she chose to stay with him, but did she want him? Was she having sleepless nights too? Was desire drumming through her veins like it was in his? Was she also losing her sanity treading in these untested waters? 

“Tell me anyway,” he insisted. 

She closed her eyes, breathing more heavily than before. 

“Khushi?” he asked, reaching up to stroke her soft cheek. 

She leaned into his touch. “You… you bother me very much.”

“In a good way?”

She nodded once, still keeping her eyes closed and her cheek in the palm of his hand. 

“And did you ever… wonder why?” he asked, savoring the feel of her skin against his.  

“I know why.”

“Tell me then.” 

Khushi took a deep breath, reopening her eyes and straightening up. “Tomorrow.”

His heart dipped, disappointed to see the moment end so quickly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she clarified. “After you have impressed all the food critics… I will tell you why exactly you bother me.”

His response was instantaneous: “Why not now?” 

“Because,” Khushi said meaningfully. “There is nothing more special than the day your dream comes true to tell you about my dream.”

By the time her words sunk in –and all Arnav could feel was thudding excitement and unbearable anticipation– Khushi was out of his arms and on the other side of the kitchen counter, excitedly taking a bite of the warm brownies. 

Could tomorrow night come any sooner?

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So after so many delays, the chapter is finally up... I cannot thank you guys enough for being so kind and patient these past few weeks. I honestly feel so lucky to have you all, especially in such trying times ❤️❤️❤️

How did you like the chapter? Excited to hear your thoughts and predictions about what will happen next... Bring on the theories! 😉😂

The next chapter will be up in 2-3 weeks. I know it's a long wait, but my classes have resumed full time, so writing will have to take a step back for now... I'm so sorry to keep you guys hanging, but life loves to put us in tight spots 😞 

I do promise, however, that you will read how this story ends. I have no plans of abandoning this FF, the updates will just be slower. Thank you again for being so understanding. 

Stay safe, healthy and happy ❤️

Archi

P.S. - A big warm welcome to all new readers  Loved reading your comments, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this story! 

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