Chapter 39

"Why did you insist we return home this quick?" she asked lightly as they walked back inside.

He switched the lights on before turning to shoot a killer smirk at her. "Because I have to cook dinner?"

Khushi gawked at him as he strode to the kitchen.

***

"I told you to leave this, didn't I?"

"Just let me-"

"Khushi, get out!" She started to protest only to have his finger pressed onto her lips. "I'm handling thing well enough, go!"

She frowned at him with an adorable pout, causing him to chuckle and hurriedly peck her forehead. "Please?" he whispered.

With a sigh, she backed to the door, her reluctance prominent. "Tell me if you need help."

***

"There you go! Creamy pesto pasta salad, lasagne and chocolate mousse," Arnav announced as her led her to the dining table by the shoulders.

She stared in awe before turning her wide eyes onto him. "You made all this?"

"Ahh... not the mousse. That's from from the supermarket."

Her gazed glazed over and she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Stumped, he felt his own heart dip as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Khushi," he whispered, sighing heavily. "I didn't do this to make you cry, you know? Just... just trying to make up to you..."

Sniffling, she pulled out of the embrace. He smirked and brushed her damp cheeks with his knuckles.

"You know how wonderful a person you are?" he went on. "I feel like I'm not worth you."

That earned him a little push from her. "You don't! Of course, you don't!" she wiped her face. "But I'm doing a favour on you."

He tried to glare at her with mock anger, only to end up sniggering. "Really?" His hands went up to her hips to pull her against him again.

Khushi shot a cute smile at him. Then, she lifted herself on her toes and before he had the time to blink, she was pressing the longest kiss in their chaste history into his cheek.

"Woah! What was that for?" Arnav gasped when she finally released him.

She chuckled, pulling his cheek. "For being so sweet, Mr Raizada!"

***

Sunlight hit her suddenly like a slap in the face. She frowned as her hands came up to rub her eyes groggily before she could open them. She saw him as soon as she opened them and sat up in bed. He was standing by the window, fixing her with his dark eyes, the enigmatic ghost of a smile on his lips. The collar of his tea green shirt was turned up while he tied his black tie.

"I have to go to work," he told her regretfully.

Khushi smiled and got up to take over the work from his hands and he took the opportunity to link his hands on the small of her back.

"So the routine is back on?" she pouted when he gave her a nod. "I hate it."

Arnav's lips curved into a heart-stopping lop-sided grin. "So do I."

She silently righted his collar. "Thank for yesterday," she breathed once she was done.

Impulsively, he caught her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist. "And I'm sorry for every other day."

He left with a quick hug and peck on the forehead, and she watched him go, feeling an unfamiliar ache writhe inside her.

***

She stood petrified as she stared at the most unexpected person at their door. Her mouth opened, then closed itself soundlessly.

"May I come in?"

Khushi gulped and nodded stiffly as she stepped aside to let the woman in. Varsha walked in, her hips swaying with a little exaggeration, her eyes surveying the interior of the apartment sceptically.

"This is not bad," she drawled.

"Arnav is not home," Khushi told her uneasily. It had been a long time since she had seen his mother. It felt like she had even forgotten her. But here stood the woman, dressed in a short, tight white dress, her ivory-rimmed Raybans perched on her crown.

She turned to Khushi icily. "I know. It's you I want to speak to."

The girl's eyes widened quizzically.

"Since when do you know my son, again?"

Khushi held her gaze defiantly, unwilling to give her the upper-hand. "Some six months or so."

"And you are from a middle class family?"

At once, she felt herself reddening. Not with shame, but with rising anger as she slowly got an idea of the direction this conversation was taking. "What do mean?" Khushi gritted out.

Varsha shrugged. "I think you know that."

She took all of her willpower and exhaled deeply to relieve her temper. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"Do not change the topic, Miss Gupta!" the woman snarled, crossing her arms over her chest as her grey-green eyes sparkled with malice.

"I love Arnav for his money. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Khushi lashed out, suddenly losing grip over her patience. "Well, I'm sorry, because that is not the case and Arnav knows it. And what you think is of no importance. But, should I say, I feel this is more your case?"

Her last sentence wiped the victorious cold smile that Varsha had been wearing. "How dare you?"

Khushi raised her chin higher, encouraged by the flicker of guilt she had perceived in the older woman's eyes. "Is it not true? You use him for your selfish purposes, right? For the funds that you don't invest in charity work but in your plastic surgeries, Botox injections, clothes and all? Is there anything else you want from him? No."

Varsha paled considerably. The tables had turned on her, contrary to what she had wanted. She made a move to leave but Khushi barred her way, her eyes full of unshed tears. At that moment, she could only think of that abandoned boy who was now killing himself with work to please his estranged mother, to make her proud, too blind to see that she didn't really care about him.

"Do you even know what he does for you to at least see him?" Khushi ploughed on, her heart breaking with each thought to Arnav who was currently tiring himself yet again. "He works like a labourer would! He is putting at risk his health! Why don't you see anything? He won so many awards for someone his age. Did you ever call him to congratulate him? He just hooked a big deal the other day. Did you acknowledge it? I'm sure you didn't even bother to think about it. Why are you like this? Sometimes, it feels like you don't want to see him happy. Why? What had he done to you? My Amma says that however a woman is, she always loves her child to bits. But you seem to contradict that completely! What stops you from loving him like he deserves?"

Varsha threw a silent dark look at Khushi and brushed past her, towards the door. She heard the door slam behind the woman, the ice queen of a mother. Her knees were suddenly too weak to hold her. Khushi slid to the floor, the tears flowing freely. This mother did not care and her son did not see. Or rather, it was clear in front of him, but he refused to see it?

***

He found her huddled in the sofa, when he got back home just before midnight, her fist holding her chin up as she stared at the television screen without really seeing what was being broadcast. He knew it because Doctor Who was being aired, and she hated the serial. Carefully, he dropped his briefcase by the door and edged towards her. It seemed she hadn't even noticed his presence.

The closer Arnav got, he realised her eyes her damp and slightly red. He froze instantly, feeling his heart clench painfully. What could have given her so much hurt?

"Khushi?" he whispered hoarsely. Her tired eyes went to him and she smiled, slowly, sadly. In three strides, he was by her side, pulling her on his lap and hugging her fiercely to his chest. "What happened?"

She snuggled her face in the crook of his neck and he felt the wet warmth of her tears on his skin but she kept her silence, tormenting him beyond sanity...