Chapter 4 Best Friend Turned Enemy

Chapter Four: Best Friend Turned Enemy

Khushi's eyes were fixed on Arnav, tracing every line of his face. She couldn’t understand the storm of emotions he was projecting; they flickered like dying embers. For the first time, a profound numbness settled into her bones. She longed to rush forward and embrace her childhood best friend, but the ghost of the London college hallway stood between them. She had rejected him there, unknowingly pushing away the very soul she had sought since she was six. It was no wonder she had felt that magnetic, drug-like pull toward him from the moment they met in England. No matter how much she tried to deny the attraction, it had always been him.

She took a cautious step toward him, but flinched when he retreated abruptly. The love she had glimpsed moments ago was gone, replaced by a jagged edge of anger and desperation. Why the sudden metamorphosis? His eyes, which once could never hide a single secret from her, had turned into icy shards of glass. She was desperately seeking the warmth of her "Chotey," but she was met only with the cold, retreating behavior of a stranger.

Arnav was reeling. It couldn’t be true. He had felt her presence the second he crossed the threshold, and now she was standing there, a living nightmare. He was shocked to realize that he didn't just see her as his childhood sweetheart; he saw her as Khushi, the girl from college who had gotten under his skin. "Attracted" was too weak a word for the fire she had ignited in him back then—perhaps because his heart had recognized its "Chutki" even when his mind had not. He felt a sickening mix of joy and grief. Joy, because his soul had been right about her all along; and grief, because she had chosen his brother over him.

Please talk to me, Arnav, Khushi pleaded silently, her lips trembling but failing to form the words. She was terrified of the man standing before her, his face a mask of stone. Was he becoming like his Dadi? Would he cast her as the villain in this tragedy? He had loved his brother more than anyone; surely he would choose his memory over a friendship that had ended fifteen years ago. She felt like a fleeting autumn leaf, discarded as the winter of the Raizada family took over. She had never reached out to him in all those years, so why should he listen now? And yet, his voice had been so soft when he first said her name. Did he not remember the sweetness of their past?

Khushi took another step, and again, he flinched as if her proximity was physical pain. She wondered if she had lost the right to touch him the moment she wed his elder brother.

"Say something, Arnav. Don't look at me like that. You’re scaring me," she whispered.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to erase her image, before opening them to rake his gaze over her. She was clad in a pale, widow’s saree. Her mehndi was fading, but the maang on her forehead still held a faint, mocking tint of red—the mark of her belonging to Ankush. They were trapped now in an unwanted bond: Devar and Bhabhi. The realization turned his grief into a furious, untamed fire. Out of everyone in the world, his best friend had ditched him. He fisted his hands until his knuckles turned white. He felt like a delusional fool for waiting for her. Had she ever cared? No, never.

He looked at her, teeth gritting with a terrifying friction. "Why the hell did you marry my brother?" he bellowed. "Miss Khushi Kumari Gupta!"

The use of her full name was a knife to her heart. "Chutki" was dead. She stepped back, her legs turning to water, almost tumbling against the glazed window.

"Oh, wait," he mocked, his tongue clicking against his cheek. "Or should I say... Mrs. Khushi Raizada? My bhabhi?" He hated the venom in his own voice, but he couldn't stop. He was doing exactly what Dadi did—taunting her, hating her.

"Stop... please stop," Khushi sobbed, the tears carving paths through her pale skin. "You’re suffocating me. I want to be left alone. Would you mind—"

He didn't let her finish, towering over her with intimidating force. "This is my house! You can’t dismiss me like you did in college. I make the rules here. I hate to admit it, but you were the only girl I ever loved... I thought you were my soulmate." He cut her off before she could speak. "And now you’re the only person I loathe. To hell with friendship. To hell with love. I hate you to the core!" He grabbed her shoulders and jerked her toward him.

"Tell me, was it the money? Did your father’s 'ego' finally have a price? He took you away so we wouldn't marry, yet he handed you to my brother? Why?"

"How dare you?" Khushi's grief turned to white-hot rage. She grabbed his collar, pulling him forward. "You have no right to taunt my father. You know nothing of what happened!"

He shoved her hands down. "Don't you dare touch me. Don't even say my name with that mouth."

"Get out! Just get out!" Khushi covered her face, broken.

Arnav grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at him. She cried out as his fingers dug into the bruises left by her broken bangles. He flipped her hand over, and his eyes caught the mehndi. The "A" in the center of her palm was still dark and vibrant. For a second, he wondered if it stood for Arnav, not Ankush. But he shook the thought away.

"You owe me an explanation, Khushi. Why him? Why not me?"

"I owe you nothing! You’ve become an animal, badmouthing a dead man who treated you like his own son."

He pinned her against the wall, his fingers biting into her skin. "Why did Bhai leave on his wedding day? What did you tell him that disgusted him so much he fled the house?"

Khushi gasped, her heart stopping. She couldn't tell him the truth. She was terrified. "Tell me, damn it!" Arnav screamed.

"You’re hurting me!" she winced.

"I could kill you for what you've done," he hissed. "You disgust me. You took my brother from this house. I was a fool to ever care." He pushed her away, turning his back. "You will pay for this. I will not leave you in peace. You ruined three lives, and now I am your enemy. My friend is dead. You are nothing but a betrayer."

Arnav stormed out, leaving Khushi as a "living corpse." She slid down the wall, buried her face in her hands, and let out a broken wail.

Oh Arnav, I thought you were my last resort. I thought you’d see my pain. She had never wanted to marry Ankush. When her father had called her home, saying the Raizadas wanted the alliance, she had assumed they meant Arnav. She had promised her dying father she would say yes. When she saw Ankush at the altar, her world shattered, but she was bound by a dead man's promise. She had sacrificed her soul for a vow, and now, she had lost the only person she ever truly loved.