...Definitely Costs You

“Haan, of cour- what??” The color drained out his face, “Kartik ki kab-- I mean kaise-- I mean who--?” What was the appropriate first response here? Kartik was getting married? Kartik had a girlfriend? How hadn’t he known? Did Sonu know? Why was Ishqi laughing? Wait. Laughing? He growled slightly, feeling duped. 

“I’m sorry AVM, par aapka face dekhne laayak tha. Meri hassi ruk hi nahi rahi, sorry.” He allowed her a few moments to collect herself before he prompted her for the question. He could never stay mad at her for long anyway. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurry his torture along and get it over with.

“Ishqi…” his low growl stopped her laughter. She slowly composed herself and prepared to ask the question again. 

“Theek hai, theek hai. Mujhe bas itna bata dijiye ke ye jo aapne naya rivaaz shuru kara hai, mujhe apni god mein uthakar room mein aane ka, iske peeche reason kya hai? Bas, itni si baat hai.” 

Ahaan breathed out a sigh of relief. Okay. So this was going to be one of their more serious chats. He still wasn’t sure of his emotions, even after all of Ishqi’s reassurances that he was allowed to show emotions, especially inside their house. Not to mention that until he met Ishqi, anything even remotely romantic repelled him. And this involved emotions, with a major focus on romance and sappiness. He took a deep breath in.

Okay. 

He could do this. 

He could do this. He lowered his head to focus on the small buttons sewn into the cushion. The only way he would get through this without breaking down would be not looking her in the face. 

“Ishqi...there will come a time when neither you nor I will be the same people we are now. You probably won’t be able to walk and I won’t be able to carry you in my arms anymore. When I think of that distant future...I don’t think of physical pain, but the pain of forgetting each other. Of not grinning and laughing like we do now. I know sabne kaha tha ki humne jaldi kar di. Lekin pyaar ka koi reason nahin hota, aur naahi definition hota hai. Wo bas ho jaata hai. Saalon pehle humne pyaar kiya tha, lekin I fall in love with you every single day even more than the last. I love how you place your head over my heart at night when we go to sleep. I love how your hair is the first thing I smell in the morning because that’s how I want to wake up for the rest of my life. I carry you through the door each day because one day, I won’t be able to and I want the giant surprised grin that you get when I do it to remain in my memory for as long as possible.” Ahaan chanced a look at her, but before his eyes could meet hers, he found himself tackled and lying prone on his back with a sobbing wife clutching at his chest. 

“Ishqi,” he shook her gently. “Main kuch zyaada bol gaya kya? Ishqi kuch to bolo. Talk to me” Her continuously shaking body was starting to worry him. Gently patting her back, he attempted to pull her face from his shirt so he could gauge her mood. “Ishqi, meri taraf dekho, please.”

“Aur aap kehte ho ki aap romantic nahin ho.” Her hand came to swipe at his chest, completely lacking any of her usual conviction. “Aaj ke baad toh bolna bhi mat ki aapko romance nahin aata. Yeh jo poore 4 panno ki linein maari hain na, unse saaf saaf pata chalta hai ki aap kitne romantic hain, Mr Ahaan Romantic Malhotra. Ab dekh kya rahe hain. Hug kariye mujhe!” 

He exhaled shakily and closed his arms around her, breathed her in and willed himself to relax. “Ab toh kuch nahin kahogi na tum?” 

Her muffled, shaky laugh vibrated through his chest and he felt her head shake from where it was buried in his arms. Well, that took care of that language...faux-pas. He’d be more careful in the future. Maybe consider a vow of silence.