Chapter 23

-Archi-

@-Archi-

Hey everyone,

Apologies for the late update! Hopefully, this chapter makes up for the wait

HUGE THANK YOU for all the wonderful comments and WELCOME to all the new readers

Silent Whispers

-CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE-

Bared, and on Display

"Thank you so much Dr. Awasti! I can't tell you how happy we are that the surgery was successful."

It was mid-afternoon in the Gupta Lawfirm, where Shyam was found following up on his mother's surgery, having no time to personally meet Dr. Awasti. While he was both elated and relieved to hear of the surgery's success, he was far from enjoying it. With court hearings almost every day, he was having a tough time trying to balance both his work and family.

"Yes, for sure," he said. "I will definitely get all the medicines before I leave for Mumbai. In case there is an emergency while I'm away, you can contact my sister. Thank you again, Dr. Awasti. Take care!"

He had barely ended his call, when a worried voice echoed through the room:

"Who is Dr. Awasti?"

Shyam looked up to see Anjali standing at the door, her eyes apprehensive. She was dressed in loose jeans and a plain black t-shirt, both stained heavily with different acrylic colors; She was in the middle of a paint job.

"When did you come?" he asked, not able to believe her timing. He had thought of only her the whole day.

"Just now," she answered, walking inside. "Is everything okay? Who had a surgery?"

"It's nothing... tell me, how are the renovations going?"

"I'm serious! Are you okay?" Her eyes raked his torso, looking for signs of an injury.

Shyam was touched. Even if he wasn't a top-notch lawyer, he would still have, just as easily, realized that her anxiety was for him. It was incredible.

"Why are you quiet?" she pressed, glaring at him. "Did you have the surgery?!"

"No, I didn't. It's someone else."

She looked skeptical. "But you sounded so serious... Does this have to do with Khushi or something?"

He wasn't surprised to hear her make the connection. Even a blind man wouldn't miss the affection he had for his sister; and this was Anjali, who at times understood him better than he, himself.

So, deciding that it wasn't fair to keep her in the dark, and also doubting if she would believe his lies even if he tried, he confessed: "No, it's not Khushi... it's my mother."

Anjali stared at him, stunned to hear the news. "Y-your mother?"

Shyam stood up from his chair, expecting her surprise. After all, he had refrained from talking about Garima in her company for so long. It was only natural for her to be caught off guard.

"Don't panic, it's fine," he said while walking around to her side.

It was then that she noticed what was in his hands. "You bought flowers?"

Sure enough, Shyam was holding a very large bouquet of bright yellow flowers, which looked nothing less than the shining sun outside.

"Not just flowers," he corrected. "They are dandelions."

She gaped at him. "You do know that dandelions are a symbol of-"

"-happiness? Yeah, I do."

Anjali now appeared to be completely puzzled. "Okay, what is going on?! Your mother had a surgery and you are buying flowers of happiness?!"

Even though there was nothing funny in the situation, Shyam couldn't help but grin. There was something in the way she was looking at him, the way her eyebrows were pulling in, lining her soft forehead... It made him want to just pull her into a tight hug.

Or maybe you just want to, whispered a small voice at back to his head.

Shyam blinked, trying not to be carried away with his imagination. It was bad enough already that he could lose his train of thought if he stared a second too long into her muddy brown eyes; he didn't want to add more to his list of troubles.

"I told you not to panic," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

"This is not funny, okay? You-"

Shyam silenced her with a finger on her lips. "Sit," he ordered, leading her to an old, ash-colored sofa in the corner in his office.

Anjali obliged, though she continued to look at him with countless inaudible questions.

"A year ago," he said, taking a seat beside her. "My mother was diagnosed with cancer. Long story short, the chemotherapy didn't work, at least as well as it should have. So, we had no other option but to go for surgery."

He paused, knowing that it was a lot of take in; however, there was no change in Anjali's expression. She was completely blank. So, he plunged on:

"The good news is that the surgery worked. The person you heard on the phone was my mother's oncologist. It seems that after the surgery, there are good chances of full recovery. That's why I'm happy."

It was a few minutes of pin-drop silence before Anjali spoke, her voice indignant. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

A line appeared on his forehead. "Before? All of this happened in the last few-"

"It's been a year since you mother has been diagnosed and you are saying it's been just a few days?!"

Shyam gazed at Anjali, utterly confused. Sure, he expected worry, shock and even a little bit of terror; but the expression on her face was neither of them. Instead, it was accusation.

"I... I didn't betray you," he said slowly, trying to pinpoint her outrage. "I just... never got the chance to tell you."

"Didn't you tell me once that we make chances, not look for them? So what happened now? Did you not feel this was important for me to know? Even after all those chats over coffee and god knows how many late nights we spent here, I'm just a business associate?!"

"Surely you know this not something I want to advertise. My mother has already been in the news for all the wrong reasons... one little slip here or there, and the media will back to flocking our doors!"

Anjali looked at him hard, before saying in a small voice, "So, I mean the same to you as a news reporter looking for gossip?"

Shyam was dumbstruck as he realized, too late, what he unthinkingly said. His silence only worsened the situation, however, for Anjali suddenly stood up, ready to leave.

"No, wait!" he said, jumping to his feet. "I didn't mean that!"

"Then what did you mean?" she asked, hurt. "Because I was under the impression that we have known each other for long enough to at least be honest."

Shyam felt wretched. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She didn't reply, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

"The thing is Anjali," he said, trying to explain his cluttered thoughts. "I-I didn't have a very good childhood. Growing up, it was almost a law that I had to keep my life a secret... because if anyone found out who I was related to, then my whole family would have to pay the consequences for it."

He paused. "Of course, things are different now... I don't have to keep everyone away, I don't need to keep what happens at home a secret... but I have grown used to it. I don't mind dealing with things alone."

Anjali looked up at that, her eyes full of concern.

"It's true that I could've told you about my mother a long time ago... I didn't because you don't deserve to be burdened with my problems ... you come here to work, to have a good time doing the thing you love. I didn't want to take that away from you."

She shook her head. "I-"

"No," he interrupted. "Hear me out first, okay? Yes, I didn't think the fact that my mother has cancer was important enough to tell you. But believe me when I say this... I did think of you, in fact you were the first person I thought of when I heard my mother was recovering... because the only things in my life that I find are worth sharing with you are the ones that make me happy. Everything else is just noise in the background."

Anjali stared at him, a strange expression crossing her face. Then, to his utter surprise, she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Shyam didn't even comprehend what had happened, when she murmured:

"Two things - First, you can never burden me. I have a good time here not only because I do the thing I love, but also because I get a chance to see you."

He listened, trying very hard to keep his heartbeat from taking off.

"Second," she continued, oblivious to his state. "If you ever do mind dealing with things alone, then I'm always here to listen because in my opinion, if I can't share the bad things in your life, then there is no way I deserve to know the good."

"Anjali," he mumbled, almost speechless.

But it was too late - she had already let go of him and took a step back with a bright smile on her face, as if nothing had happened.

Shyam cleared his throat, feeling his blood still race. Hoping she didn't see his condition, he awkwardly made his way back to his desk.

"So," she said, picking up the bouquet he had dropped on the sofa. "How did you know dandelions meant happiness?"

"Umm... I took your advice and googled it."

Anjali grinned, no doubt remembering their conversation the very first time she came to the firm.

"So is this all I have to make do with while you are gone?" she asked, pointing to the flowers.

Shyam was caught off guard with her question. "M-make do?"

She laughed. "Relax! I only meant- actually, never mind! Have a safe trip. You are going for that divorce case right? Good luck!"

He thanked her with a smile and bid her goodbye, all the while wondering if she really was joking about missing him; her expression definitely said otherwise.

* * *

"I sent the final contract to Mr. Verma and cc'ed you on the email. If all goes well, which I think it will, we will be meeting him next week to sign it. I also looked into the factory site we visited in Agra and I don't think we should go ahead with it. I know it's Jai's decision to make in the end, but the owner doesn't look too reliable. I think-"

Arnav stared at the girl in front of him, wondering if she was the same one who had once accused him of kissing her. It seemed eons had passed since that night, for the girl who stood before him now was nowhere close to the stubborn, ambitious Khushi Kumari Gupta he once knew.

"-that's just was my two cents on the issue. You don't really have to follow it or anything-"

Ever since their disastrous trip to Desai Textiles, it was as if Khushi had turned over a new leaf in her life. She no longer challenged him or charged him with faults... she was a whole other person, who he could reason with and indefinitely amuse himself with.

Of course, Arnav understood very quickly what it was; it was hard to miss given how much time they spent together.

It was respect.

She admired his work, she honored his company and most important of all, she valued him. She didn't question his decisions, nor did she counter his ideas... in fact, she didn't cross him in any way whatsoever.

Arnav didn't know if he liked all the sudden new changes. Sure, he had complained of her nature, but at the same time, her very character was what intrigued him, what made him forget his place as a boss in her presence. And perhaps that was what went wrong in the first place - he always treated her like a friend, while expecting her to behave as an intern in return.

"So yeah," she finished awkwardly.

Arnav nodded. One of the good things about the Khushi 2.0, as he humorously named her, was that she didn't find his staring or teasing irksome. She had easily accepted it as his trait or flaw - he didn't know which one it was yet - and worked around it.

"So, should I go?" she asked, uncertain at his silence. "Or is there something else you want me to do?"

"Actually, yes," he replied, digging into his drawers. "I need you to look into this file- oww!"

Arnav wrenched his hand back from the shelf to see a long gash across his arm. Instinctively, he pressed his free hand to the cut, trying to staunch the blood oozing out and said, "Get me the first aid box, will you? It should be with the receptionist downstairs."

He was beginning to feel the preliminary sting of the cut, when he noticed the blood leaking around his clamped hand. "Hurry," he muttered. "I don't want a big mess."

Only, there was no movement. Annoyed for both her lack of response and the few drops of the blood that stained the floor, he growled, "For god's sake Khushi! Get me the first aid-"

He stopped upon catching a glimpse of her. Pale and dumbfounded, Khushi appeared white as a sheet as she stared transfixed at his arm.

Worry suddenly filled him. "Khushi?"

She didn't react.

He stood up from his chair and walked to her frozen figure. "Are you okay?" he asked slowly, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Khushi flinched, shying away from his blood soaked hand.

"I'm fine," he assured her gently. "It's just a little bit of blood."

She wasn't convinced. It was then that Arnav noticed her hands rolled into fists, shaking in panic. And even though her face was devoid of any emotions, there was something about her stature that screamed at him in warning.

"Khushi?" he said, trying to distract her. Upon getting no reply, his voice grew louder with both panic and impatience. "Khushi?! Look at me dammit!"

She turned towards him with widened eyes, and that was enough for him to realize she was on the verge of a complete meltdown. Slightly relieved to see her react somewhat, Arnav gently nudged her down on a chair nearby.

He then retrieved the first aid kit from the receptionist, who thankfully didn't stare too curiously at the pale Khushi, and began to bandage his wound. He noticed her silently watching him from the corner of his eyes.

"You have to clean the cut first," he told her while gently running an antiseptic wipe on his arm. "So it doesn't get infected..."

Once the blood was cleared, Arnav began to carefully examine the gash. "It's not that deep... Should heal in a few days."

Khushi didn't answer, though he knew she was listening in rapt attention.

"And now," he continued, pulling out a white roll of gauze. "We cover it up to protect it from more harm."

He felt her eyes follow his hand wrap the bandage tightly around the wound. Once done, he brandished his arm and said, "See? All done."

Khushi was absolutely still as she curiously gazed at him. Arnav couldn't help but see a childlike innocence seeping out of her eyes as she examined his bandage, almost as if she was trying to figure out where the wound disappeared.

"T-there was s-so much blood..." she whispered suddenly.

He was bewildered. He had never seen her so vulnerable, not even the night she had drunkenly called him.

"Even t-that day," she continued, ignorant of his presence. "There was s-so much blood everywhere and I-I couldn't do anything... my mind was blank... it was like I w-was watching a movie even though I knew it was all real... the k-knife she was holding... the blood dripping from her wrist..."

Arnav listened, not being able to believe what he was hearing. He couldn't imagine the panic that must have taken over her to see someone cut themself. However, what pressed him more was why she was telling him... she hated being weak in any light. How was today any different?

"I was so scared," Khushi mumbled. "I-I thought she would die... and she would have if B-bhaiyya didn't come on time and call the ambulance..."

Something strange gripped his heart, as Arnav understood her turmoil. He wanted her to smile, to forget the nightmare she was stuck in and move on... it just didn't feel right to see the woman he had admired, the woman who he believed could make the sun rise in the west if she set her mind to it, so utterly helpless.

"I thought it was a child thing," she said, clearing her throat; her voice no longer shook. "I was so small when it happened... but it didn't go away. It still bothers me; the thought she could die bothers me... it eats me up... and all I think is, what if anything happened to her..."

Arnav gazed at her, feeling as if he was meeting Khushi for the first time. He had occasionally seen glimpses of her, namely whenever she let her guard down and said something she usually didn't, but today it was different... today, she out in the open, hiding behind nothing but thin air.

It was once he got his fill of seeing her - the real her - that he spoke, choosing his words with great care.

"You know, I used to be scared of falling when I was little... I would refuse to go up or down the stairs or the balcony or anywhere that had the slightest chance of me falling. No one understood why... not my mother, not my father, for that matter even I didn't know why until one day, when I accidently fell off a slide in the playground."

Khushi looked at him in surprise. "And then?"

"Then nothing... the worst had happened, and I was still okay. Sure I got stiches, which believe me are painful, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. So I stopped being scared."

"Just like that?"

Arnav nodded with a small smile. "Just like that... You are never going to know what it will be like until it actually happens. So why fret over it now?"

She bit her lip, undoubtedly contemplating his words. Taking that as a good sign, he pressed on:

"Most of the time, it will never be like how we expect it to be... it ends up being much, much better than what we imagined. So when people say everything will fine, they really do mean it, like how I mean it right now... you will be okay, when the worst of your fears - if ever - come true."

Khushi was touched, and that was enough for Arnav to breathe in relief. She was okay, which meant, he was too.

"Are you sure?" she asked, innocently.

He grinned. "Tried and tested birthday girl... my counsel is a hundred percent fail proof."

"Well maybe I'm supposed to be your first failure?"

Even though Arnav knew she only spoke in humor, he felt a sudden urge to correct her. He couldn't let her feel that way. So leaning forward, he said in the gentlest voice, "You can never be a failure Khushi... I can believe anything, but that."

A warm expression crossed her eyes. "You are mistaken then. I'm nearly not as perfect-"

"-I didn't say that. I said you can never fail. There is a difference."

A small line appeared on her forehead. "But-"

"I'm not saying you are flawless Khushi, I'm saying you won't stop lessening your flaws."

Arnav knew he caught her by surprise, for she fell quiet, deep in thought. He took the opportunity and carefully surveyed her almond shaped eyes, committing them to memory. And without knowing why, he stretched out his hand and stroked her soft cheek.

Khushi didn't flinch upon his touch. Instead, she poured into his eyes, searching for something. Arnav didn't know how long they stayed like that, him caressing her face and her, watching him transfixed; but when it ended, thanks to the shrill ring of her cell phone, he was sourly sad.

Withdrawing his hand, he quietly walked back to his desk, while Khushi muttered a quick excuse and fled the room to answer the call. It was once the door had firmly shut close behind her, that he heaved a sigh, exhausted.

For some odd reason, he felt as if he had invaded her personal space. In the few short minutes she had shaken off her inhibitions, he had gotten so close to her, that he wasn't quite sure he could undo it.

Not that he wanted to. No, Arnav enjoyed this strange new connection they shared. It was both absorbing and mysterious; promising and obscure.

That was perhaps the biggest, if not the only, reason he liked Khushi 2.0.

___________________________________________________________________________

Anjali's POV is coming up soon. As for Khushi, I just want to say she is overwhelmed... she didn't let herself move on from her traumatic childhood, so now, she is paying (dearly) for it.

The next chapter will be posted next Sunday (probably very late at night.)