Chapter 63: Rebound

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Chapter Sixty-Three

Rebound

Khushi awoke to the sound of laughter echoing through the penthouse.

She squinted through heavy, closed eyes, trying to gauge what time it was. Her head was throbbing, a strange ache was gripping her body, and her feet were beyond repair, so big were the blisters forming on her heels.

But none of those things mattered.

No, what mattered were the soft slips that caressed her all night, the musical voice that called out her name over and over again, the strong arms that held her together as she had come undone.

Even asleep, Khushi knew she was blushing.

How could she not?

Arnav kissed her. Everywhere.

Arnav loved her. And it wasn't as a friend.

And the most important of it all, Arnav made love to her.

It felt strange even thinking those words, forget saying them out loud. Would anything ever be the same?

No, her mind answered content, for more reasons than one.

Khushi didn't think so either. And frankly, she was glad for it. Whoever said flirting was fun, had no freaking clue what they were talking about. Because clearly, it was what came after flirting that was a hundred, no, a thousand times more fun.

Khushi snuggled deeper into her pillows. Despite Dev and Bhagi's valorous attempt to intoxicate her –which she saw coming miles away in retrospect– she remembered everything. She remembered Arnav’s fiery kisses on her lips, on her waist, on her breasts... She felt him in between her legs, pushing her closer and closer to the edge... God.

He was good.

And with the way he had teased her, she knew he knew he was good.

Another blush worked its way through her.

Outside the bedroom, she could vaguely make out Arnav's voice. He seemed to be on the phone, laughing about something.

She could listen to his laugh for eons without getting bored.

But somewhere, her rational side was beginning to rise. The one that prided herself on being Dr. Gupta, the same one she had vehemently shoved aside while Arnav worked his magic last night.

Judging by the bright lights filtering in through the open windows, it seemed to be late morning.

It was so unlike her to sleep in. She had tuned her body to wake up at sunrise, no matter how late she stayed up the night before. It was just good etiquette for the hospital, which sometimes gave her less than an hour's heads up to come in for an emergency shift.

But perhaps it was for the better. It was time she stopped escaping to the hospital. After twenty-six long years, Khushi finally belonged somewhere.

Sighing in content, Khushi gingerly opened her eyes, flinching at the sunlight. Her –no, their– bedroom was the same as it was yesterday. Rose petals, now starting to wither, strewn everywhere, candles almost burnt to crisp in every corner, their discarded clothes flung on the armchair.

Khushi herself was covered in fuzzy blankets, no doubt meant to be a replacement for the arms she had slept in blissfully. It was so like him to make sure she was comfortable even in his absence.

That was perhaps the most beautiful thing about him.

Even though desire had been ripping him apart last night, Arnav not once lost his control last night. He was sure to be gentle with her, to care more about her pleasure than his own... he never, not even for a minute, compromised her comfort for his needs.

Even with her limited experience, Khushi knew that was rare.

Arnav was special. And now, she could finally say, this special being belonged to her.

Khushi eventually trod her way to the shower several minutes later, reluctantly letting the hot water soothe her sore muscles. Despite the splitting headache, she felt oddly at peace. She stared at her closet longer than usual that morning, somehow finding nothing worthwhile to wear before settling on a baby blue chikankari kurta with matching ankle pants.

Khushi knew she was being silly. Did it really matter how she looked? Arnav would like her either way.

She couldn't help but recall the way he watched her yesterday evening when she had finally stepped out of the room, dressed in the saree he had gifted her. It was a miracle he even waited that long for that matter.

Khushi had used the whole day yesterday to decorate their bedroom on the pretext of getting ready. There were many a times when she heard Arnav’s footsteps approaching the door and feared for the worst. Luckily the gods were with her, and the surprise turned out even better than she had anticipated.

She would never, not even in a million lifetimes, forget the smoldering look he had given her when he saw the room all decked up.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, Khushi gingerly stepped out of their room, butterflies in her stomach.

Arnav was pacing the living room, looking fresh in jeans and a royal blue button up shirt, seemingly very happy as he chatted away. The room was full of newspapers, strewn across the coffee table and sofa, all open to very specific articles. Khushi quietly crept forward, careful not to disturb him, and skimmed over one of the entries:

[…] owner and Chef, Arnav Singh Raizada pulls together a wonderful ensemble of flavors in his newly launched restaurant, Keyes, showing not only how well versed he is with cuisines across the world, but more importantly, how deeply he understands food itself. Whether it be his special kale pita served with beetroot hummus, or his simple, to-the-point Singapore fried rice, he doesn’t fail to impress.

Khushi couldn’t help the wide smile spreading up her face. Of course, he doesn’t fail to impress, she thought to herself. Of course, Keyes was a success. This was Arnav Singh Raizada they were talking about, the man who had managed to take all her heart without raising a finger and left her with nothing but untainted joy.

Grinning like a fool, Khushi crept towards the kitchen, realizing that Arnav was probably on the phone with a reporter or a well-wisher. She was just about to grab a tablet from the medicine cabinet for her unyielding headache when she felt his hand close around her shoulder.

She jumped in surprise and turned around. Arnav was still on the phone, but there was a big frown on his handsome face.

He grabbed the tablets from her hand and instead pointed to the coffee machine, followed by a nod to kitchen island, where a fully laden breakfast tray was waiting, his instructions clear.

Khushi rolled her eyes. She may be the doctor out in the world, but with him, she would always be the patient.

Thank God she took the day off from the hospital.

Smiling to herself, Khushi settled down on the dining table with her breakfast, having managed to locate her phone halfway buried between the cushions on the living room sofa. She had no clue how it landed there.

There were almost a hundred messages waiting for her.

A few were from her brother, congratulating her on Arnav’s restaurant, saying that the reviews online looked very promising. She thanked him with a smile.

The next one was from Ved, thanking her for inviting him and of course, complimenting the food. He promised to bring more of his friends soon.

The rest of the messages were from the Raizada family’s group chat. Khushi absentmindedly scrolled through the messages, not really reading them, when her own name suddenly caught her attention.

It was a message from Samriddhi, apologizing to her for letting the boys mix vodka in her drink last night.

Khushi smiled, reassuring her that she was absolutely fine.

She was more than fine in all honesty.

Khushi spent much of the next hour finishing her breakfast, noticing vaguely that the clock read 2 o'clock in the afternoon. She was waiting for Arnav to finish his call, and she knew with the number of excited looks, bordering on impatience, being passed her way, that even he was dying to talk to her.

She had just finished cleaning up the dirty dishes when the shrill sound of the doorbell rang through the penthouse. Wiping her hands clean, Khushi curiously answered the door, trying to recollect if anyone was supposed to pay them a visit.

It wasn’t someone from Arnav’s family. Or from hers either, for that matter.

It was a lady, not much older than Khushi, dressed in a flowy gown skimming the floor, holding a folded newspaper. Her hair was straight, her cheekbones high and her eyes invitingly warm. She was beautiful, in fact a little too beautiful.

“Err hi,” the woman said upon seeing her. “You must be Khushi.”

Khushi was very confused. “Yes… have we met before?”

“My mistake, I should have introduced myself. My name is Myra… Can I come in?”

Khushi froze, her mind completely blank.

Although this was Myra’s first physical appearance after almost a year of their marriage, to Khushi it felt as though she was returning to the house after a very long vacation. Because even though her name was rarely ever mentioned, she always occupied an invisible space in their lives, a strong presence that even Khushi had felt and couldn’t push away.

But of all the things that stood out about her, the most striking had to be Myra’s beauty. Khushi couldn’t tell if it was the way she had done her hair, or the way her dress hugged her curves, or just good genes, there was something otherworldly about her.

And it was staring at her that Khushi couldn’t help but regret her choices. She wished she took more time to get ready and donned anything other than the plain chikankari kurta; something that screamed she was Arnav Singh Raizada’s wife.

When the silence stretched awkwardly for another minute, Myra cleared her throat. “Can I come in?” she asked again.

“Err, yes, I think so,” Khushi answered, stepping aside to let Myra enter.

For the first time ever, Khushi had no idea what to do. It was obvious that Myra was here to talk to Arnav, but given how volatile their relationship had been, Khushi wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to let her be in the same room as him.

“I’m sorry I came here uninvited–” Myra began, only to be interrupted by Arnav’s drawling voice.

“Who is it, Khushi?” he called from the living room. His phone call finally seemed to have ended.

Khushi took a deep breath. “It’s Myra… she’s here to see you.”

Pin drop silence followed her announcement. While Khushi nervously waited for Arnav’s response, not putting it past him to refuse flat out to see his ex-girlfriend, Myra was quite comfortable standing in the entryway, not the least bit bothered about the possible animosity.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Khushi heard Arnav’s footsteps as he appeared in the entrance hall, his face stony and almost murderous.

“My office,” he muttered, stomping away to the den.

Myra didn’t even blink an eye at his rudeness.

Khushi, however, felt the need to justify. “He’s had a busy morning,” she said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Myra said with a formal smile. “I know how he gets… Excuse me.”

Khushi felt odd to hear that, as though she was suddenly the unwelcome, interfering guest, not Myra. Before she could retort, however, Myra disappeared into the den, having no trouble navigating her way through the penthouse.

Khushi didn’t know why she felt bad to see that, especially since Lata had let slip very early on that Myra used to live here. As the door to Arnav’s study closed shut, Khushi didn’t know what to do with herself.

Was she supposed to ignore them and go about her day? How long were they going to talk for? And about what exactly?

As the minutes ticked on painfully slow, Khushi debated on calling Lavanya. She needed some information about the situation. Why had Myra returned? To apologize for ditching Arnav? To beg for forgiveness? Or to ask for a way back into his life as his rightful wife?

And more importantly, what was Arnav going to say? True, he had moved on. He had stowed away his grief and adjusted to his new life. But now that he knew there was a chance to get the happily-ever-after he had always longed for, would he take it?

Even as these questions came, Khushi knew they were wrong. Wasn’t it just last night that Arnav was promising to spend the rest of his life with her? Didn’t he say he will always choose her over Myra?!

Unable to bear the nail-biting suspense, Khushi inched towards the den, ignoring all moral pleas of her conscience. Whatever the conversation was, it was better she heard it first-hand.

Crouching beside the den, Khushi anxiously listened for their voices.

Except there were none.

She was just beginning to wonder if Arnav had somehow soundproofed the room without her knowledge when Myra’s voice finally drawled out.

“I know you are angry.”

There was no reply.

“What I put you through… it’s unfair and cruel.”

Still no response.

“Arnav.”

Khushi felt guilt pool deep in the pit of her stomach. The way she said his name sounded so private, so intimate… it just felt so wrong to overhear their conversation, and yet, Khushi couldn’t will her legs to move.

“You must have a million questions,” Myra said, changing direction.

Arnav still didn’t answer. Khushi felt a surge of relief.

“I will start with the simplest one,” Myra continued with a sigh. She seemed determined not be disappointed with his attitude. “I was in Dubai for the past few months… after what happened between us, I just needed some time alone… some air away from the news channels blowing up your… pretense marriage.”

Arnav finally spoke. “It wasn’t a pretense.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Myra replied, calm and quite composed. “Your father’s deal with the Guptas is an open secret.”

“What deal?”

“You don’t have to defend your father just to disagree with me Arnav…. Ira told me everything.”

Khushi wondered who Ira was and more than that, what was going on in Arnav’s mind. It was clear that Myra was here with an agenda.

“I am sure your sister misunderstood,” Arnav replied. “I am not surprised, since you often make the same mistake.”

“When have I-”

“My time is precious Myra. Cut to the chase, will you?”

Myra paused, perhaps debating how best to sound polite and patient. “I just… I wanted to say sorry.”

“You wanted to say sorry?” Although Arnav’s voice was quite monotonous, Khushi was sure there was a hint of sarcasm.

“I just… I was so carried away with what I wanted that I didn’t understand where you were coming from. I’m so sorry… Sorry for not standing by you when your father was ill, for not stopping to listen when you came to my house that day… I should have known how much I meant to you when you left your wife on your wedding night and came to see me instead.”

Khushi closed her eyes, trying to remind herself of the circumstances she and Arnav had gotten married in. She already knew why he had bailed on their wedding night, so did it matter if he had gone to see his ex that night?

It shouldn’t… but somehow, it did.

“But I was stupid,” Myra continued solemnly. “I was so convinced that you were taking advantage of me, I so badly wanted to make you realize my importance… but in all that rage, all I ended up with was losing you. I realize now what a big mistake I made.”

“I see.”

Myra seemed to be waiting for him to say something more.

“Is there anything else?” Arnav asked, unmoved, and rather indifferent.

Myra seemed confused. “Do you have to go somewhere? I… I can come back later if you would like.”

“Since when did you start caring about what I would like Myra?”

“That’s not true. Trust me, I was just–”

“Trust you?” Arnav repeated, unable to maintain a blank voice anymore. “Trust you on what basis? What have you ever done except humiliate me and take me for granted?”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“Sure, just like how you didn’t mean all those words you threw at me that day I came to your house, isn’t it? You didn’t mean to call me immature, directionless and selfish, right?”

“Arnav, please, I’m trying here–”

“Oh yes, Myra, we both are trying here. I’m trying very hard not to kick you out of my house, while you are trying very hard to sell this façade of apologizing.”

“You think this is a façade?”

Arnav snorted. “Oh, come on now, don’t insult my intelligence. What are you really here for? Isn’t life rosy enough for you back in Dubai?”

Myra didn’t reply.

“Fine, suit yourself,” Arnav muttered. “I couldn’t care less. If you are done with the drama of apologizing, you may leave.”

Myra, however, made no effort to move.

Khushi held her breath, waiting for the argument that was about to explode between them. While she didn’t know what Myra was like, or how she handled conflict, she knew Arnav very well. Keeping patience during a disagreement was not his forte.

“You were immature and directionless,” Myra finally admitted in a quiet voice. “But you were never selfish…. no, if anyone was selfish, it was me. I ran at the first sign of trouble. And I have always done that… I see that now. But you… you always stand by the ones you love Arnav. You fought with your family for me, and when your dad was sick, you fought for his company, so much so that you even married without love–”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know Myra,” Arnav snapped.

“I’m not trying to rub salt in your wounds Arnav,” she answered, her voice reeking with sympathy. “I’m not your enemy here… I’m just trying to tell you that I understand. I know under what circumstances you had to marry… Khushi knows nothing about your company, about your friends, or your life. She was the rebound you needed, and no one knows better than me that you can’t spend your forever with rebounds.”

Khushi felt ice slip down to her stomach. She and Arnav had come very far in the last year for her to be reduced into a rebound. Wasn’t it just a few hours ago that Arnav was telling her how much he loved her?

But did he really though?

The doubt she had been struggling with for so many months now, broke free of the cage she had put it in. If things had not gone bad with Myra, if things with his company had not taken such a horrific turn, would Arnav still have chosen her? He told her, very plainly last night, that she was immeasurable, that she was much more than what Myra was to him, but did that even matter? Hadn’t his heart already made the choice when he chose to spend months pining for a woman who left him, rather than the woman who had vowed to stay with him?

What did it matter if she was better than Myra, when his heart had only wanted the latter?

“Khushi is not a rebound Myra,” Arnav said at last, his voice in icy flames. “And if you want this conversation to be civil, then leave her out of it.”

“See what I mean,” Myra replied, unperturbed. “You’ve always thought about others, and I can’t believe it took me so long to understand that… It's been, what, a year since you married Khushi? Only a year, and you care so much about her… and here I am, wondering how stupid I was to choose stability and security over you.”

Arnav sighed. “If you need someone to listen to your epiphanies and realizations, then get a diary. I don’t have time for this.”

Myra took a deep breath. “So that’s it? This is how we end?”

“We ended a long time ago.”

“No,” Myra interjected. “I mean… can’t we be friends? We’ve both said things we are not proud of, but that doesn’t mean we just ignore the past seven years… I can’t… I can’t go on pretending that you don’t exist, Arnav, it’s exhausting… Those years we were together were some of the happiest years of my life.”

“So?”

“So, let’s call it a truce. Let’s end this stupid pact of not speaking to each other… let’s try to be friends.”

Khushi couldn’t believe her ears. Friendship?!

Arnav, however, let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, so now you remember we are friends?! I gotta say, I admire your guts Myra… after all the crap you’ve pulled, it’s honestly impressive to see you walk in here as if nothing happened and ask to be friends again.”

Myra was quiet.

“What you probably don’t know, however, is that I no longer have the interest or time to care about what you think or want. So, do yourself a favor and leave with whatever little respect you have left.”

“Fine,” Myra said, her voice twinging on sadness now. “But before I go, will you tell me something?”

Arnav didn’t reply.

“Was there ever an instance in the past year when you felt that something was missing in your life? Just a second, when your heart felt a little empty, a little incomplete?”

Silence.

Khushi felt the oxygen in the room dwindling. Arnav’s silence, which so far felt like a mark of his anger, suddenly seemed like something else together.

“That’s what I thought,” Myra murmured. “I know you have moved on Arnav, and I agree that it’s too late for us, but I can’t just cut you out of my life anymore… I have tried, and I’ve failed miserably. Ira warned me that it was a bad idea coming here today to meet you, but I just couldn’t go back to Dubai without at least trying to make amends.”

“Amends?” Arnav repeated furiously. “Oh sure, do tell me what amends you plan to make Myra… wasn’t having an abortion without even telling me enough for you?”

Khushi, who was expecting every retort but that, froze. Did… did she hear right?

“And the only reason I even know that, was because I was looking for you like a crazy man, calling every goddamn person related to you… tell me, how do you plan to fix that? How do you plan to change the months of time I wasted looking for you, for trying to understand your choices! Do you even realize what all of this has cost me?!”

Khushi felt her legs turning into stone, all sense of the warmth she had remembering their night together, sucked out of her.

“Oh,” Myra croaked. “So, you’re punishing me then… you’re punishing me for not telling you about the pregnancy.”

“Who am I to punish you, Myra? You made it very clear where I stand in your life when you ignored, without an ounce of guilt, the million missed calls I’ve left you.”

“I was done Arnav… I was hurt too, what you said to me was not pretty either. I acted out of impulse, can’t you understand that much about me?”

“No, I can’t, and I don’t want to either. I don’t want to understand anything about you. It took too many months to be where I am today, and I’m not stupid enough to risk all that for a trip down memory lane with you.”

Myra seemed to be taken back to hear that. Outside, Khushi was barely listening to their disjointed conversation. The only thing flickering in front of her eyes was Arnav playing with a baby who looked a lot like him, while Myra watched on in the background. Even in her head, the picture looked perfect.

“It was my child too Arnav,” Myra said after a few minutes. “I was in a hundred times more pain than you to make that decision… and believe it or not, it was not a decision I would wish on anyone.”

“Let me get this straight,” he replied incredulously. “You don’t regret keeping the truth from me even now?”

“What I regret,” she replied. “Is leaving you. What I regret is letting my ambition get the better of me.”

Myra paused dramatically, giving Khushi a much-needed moment to collect herself. Although it was completely unnecessary.

She didn’t know what was hurting her more – the fact that Arnav wanted to have a child with this woman, or the fact that he spoke to great lengths about trust and never told her even once that Myra had an abortion. Did Khushi really mean so little for him? Was she really nothing but a rebound, meant to be a distraction, but never a companion?

“Just like how you probably regret marrying for the sake of your company,” Myra continued. “But if everything worked out the way we wanted it to, it wouldn’t be called life, would it?

Khushi couldn’t listen anymore. She had enough.

It was one thing knowing that Arnav loved someone else before her, but it was a whole other, knowing that he loved Khushi only because he had no other choice.

So, turning away, she walked out of the apartment, not looking back, not registering the painful gasps of her heart, not even paying heed to the thought of leaving a note in case someone wanted to look for her.

Khushi walked away knowing she would never come back.

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