Chapter 9

Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm

--*--

It was the last day of the fashion show, the most important one. Today, every designer would present their finest creation to the world, and one among them would be honored with a trophy by none other than the textile ministry of India. So, it was not just recognition, but also a gateway to national prominence.

Especially for a young brand like “Kahani”.

So that morning, when Khushi bent down to take her amma and babuji’s blessings, she had only one wish in her heart. That today, at least today, her work would speak louder than her past.

And her babuji did bless her that, saying she would get what she wished for. But her amma did not miss the chance to add her own expectations, saying she hoped for an addition to the family, this time in the form of a baby.

Khushi swallowed the sharp irritation rising in her throat and forced a tight smile, the kind that did not reach her eyes.

While Dhruv who was standing beside her, kept his expression neutral, even though he too felt slightly annoyed hearing Garima’s words.

They took their leave soon after that.

.

The moment the door shut behind them, Shashi turned to Garima, unable to hold back any longer. “Why are you doing this, Garima ji? Why do you keep pushing her when she is clearly not comfortable with this topic?”

Garima scoffed. “Then who's going to show her right path? And not comfortable? What is there to be uncomfortable about? She is married to Dhruv bitwa for 5 years now.” Her voice hardened. “And unlike that previous pregnancy, this time she would be carrying a legitimate child.”

“Garima ji!” Shashi snapped, shocked. “You are talking about our own daughter.”

“I know exactly what I am talking about.” Garima shot back. “You are the one too blinded by your love to see right from wrong.” Her voice raised, years of resentment spilling out. She had been born and raised in a small town, with orthodox thinking and often found it very difficult to adjust to Shashi's modern thoughts. But not today. So, she vented, “This is the result of your so-called free thinking. ‘Garima ji, one child is enough, boy or girl does not matter.’ ‘Garima ji, let Khushi learn singing, dancing, whatever she likes.’ ‘Garima ji, let her go to Delhi alone, what if it is a big city?’” She took a brief pause before continuing to recount his past statements, bitterly. “And then, ‘Garima ji, don’t say anything even if she chooses her own life partner.’ Dekh liya natija (saw what happened)? She came back unwed and pregnant. And who saved her then? My timely interference and Dhruv bitwa's big heart. So, forgive me if I am finally trying to fix your daughter's past mistakes. If I want her to understand what is expected of an ideal wife.”

Shashi opened his mouth, then closed it again. The fight drained out of him and was replaced by helplessness.

So, he just sighed and said nothing.

--*--

It was mid-afternoon. The stage was buzzing with flickering lights, cables and last-minute preparations. The finale walk was about to begin, and basically every model was a “showstopper” for their brand. Today, the world was going to see those designs that no one had ever seen before.

In front of the stage, tables were set up with their own little assigned crowd, and the chairs wrapped in soft, red-white covers like some fancy award show.

Khushi was sitting with Dhruv, and the small team from her company at one of the tables, going over last-minute notes while just across them was the table assigned to AR Designs where Shyam, Anjali, and Lavanya sat, along with AR’s CEO, Arnav Singh Raizada.

Khushi tried not to look at him, but her eyes betrayed her.

She couldn’t help but notice how he sat with both his hands loosely clasped together, resting on his knees. It was a posture she remembered well. He did that whenever he was lost in his thoughts, distant even from himself. And then, through the slight gap between his sleeves and his watch, she saw them.

The scars.

Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

She had noticed them the very first day they met, when he had handed her a file without so much as looking at her. Her eyes had dropped to his hands then, instinctively, and the faint white lines around his wrists had caught her attention. At the time, she had assumed they were old injuries, something accidental, something unimportant.

She had not known what they meant.

As days turned into weeks and work turned into familiarity, her eyes had always gone back to his wrists whenever he stood close. Whenever he leaned over her desk. Whenever his hands brushed past hers. Whenever she caught him unaware. There was something about those marks that unsettled her, that made her heart tighten in a way she could not explain.

And then, once they started dating, she had stopped looking at them from a distance. She had touched them.

She remembered how he had stiffened the first time her fingers traced those scars, how his jaw had clenched as if bracing himself.

And that night when he finally told her about the dark secret behind those scars.

It was their first night in a 'real sense', together, on a work trip to Nainital. They had already crossed a few boundaries. He had always found ways to corner her, to kiss her, and she had not been blameless either, quite enjoying her awakening to this new physical world. However, crossing that final line was something she had never imagined before marriage. But that night, wrapped in unfamiliar sheets and each other’s restless need, the line had blurred.

He had been careful with her, almost reverent. As if afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast.

And then, as she ran a soft caress along his scars, along with his clothes, he had stripped away his deepest secret.

He told her how those scars were not accidents.

They were survival marks. Survival from his own self!

It had happened when he had been just a teenager. 14-years-old and tired of hearing whispers about his family. Tired of being reminded, openly and cruelly, that his father had another son, one the family had chosen to accept despite society’s judgment. Tired of taunts that came with knowing Dhruv was an illegitimate child and somehow, that stain had splashed onto him too.

He had never understood how his nani and di could insist on keeping Dhruv in their lives when the world kept throwing that truth in their faces. He had grown up watching his family defend Dhruv again and again, while he absorbed the anger, the resentment, and the questions he could never voice.

And somewhere along the way, the anger had turned inwards.

That night, he had told her in a flat, distant voice how a 14-year-old boy had decided the noise in his head needed to stop. How he had picked a knife, locked his room and tried to end his life, not because he wanted to die, but because he did not know how to live with the weight of it anymore.

Of course, he had survived. Because Anjali had found him, because his nani had refused to let go, luckily sensing something was wrong and having had a spare key of his room.

Khushi had felt her eyes well-up, and she had kissed his wrists, his scars then… promising him she will always shield him.

And she had kept that promise a few months later...on the night of their engagement. She had not let him know the darkest secret of his life, even if it meant sacrificing her own love, her own life over it!

.

Now, years later, Khushi watched him sit there, surrounded by the chaos they were in, his hands still clasped the same way, the scars still faintly visible.

And she wondered, not for the first time, how a boy who had been broken so young had learned to carry his pain without ever letting it show.

And how she had once believed she understood him.

But she had not.

.

.

Arnav felt her eyes on him, and a quick stolen glance told him she was looking at his hands… his scars.

He breathed in sharply. The scars, reminders of his weakness, the past self he wasn’t proud of. But how else could he react when, all through his childhood, he had barely seen his parents sleep without fighting? When at 9 years of age, a boy around his age was suddenly brought home as his brother? And it didn’t end there. His parents’ accidental death and his mother’s dying promise to accept Dhruv had been too much for him to bear.

And thus, he had reacted the way he did. After years of suppressed trauma and emotions. Of struggling to have the same big heart his mother, grandmother and sister had.

If only he had known that his mother, his nani, his di were not accepting Dhruv out of kindness, but out of shame and guilt. Guilt for how Ratna’s obsession had kept Arvind in dark about his first wife, Saloni’s whereabouts for years…only for her to meet him during her final days. And thus, they had accepted Dhruv.

Of course, he didn’t know that. But the shame and taunts were enough to make him feel weak, and he had acted on that weakness.

By slitting his wrists...

But that was more than 15 years ago. He wasn’t that weak boy anymore. He had come a long way.

Especially after Khushi’s betrayal.

That incident had been perhaps an even harder blow than his father’s infidelity, a wound that could have destroyed him completely.

Which was why he had disappeared into oblivion after that.

But what no one knew was that he had come back stronger after that 1 year.

The first month or so was spent zoned out, living on alcohol, sleeping off the nights he couldn’t face. Not knowing what he was doing, where he was and so on.

But after that first month, something had finally clicked. A memory of Khushi’s love for him, and then a call from an old professor he had admired at Harvard urging him not to let life slip by, pushed him to take a hard step. He admitted himself into a rehab center in the US and spent the following months working on his emotional instability, confronting the pain he had been running from, slowly learning to rebuild himself from the inside out.

And then he had returned after that 1 year, with renewed vigor to live his life positively. He had decided to talk to Khushi and try to solve their differences calmly. He was sure she loved him and what happened on that night of their engagement was all a big mistake.

But little did he know, when he returned, she was already married to Dhruv.

Nevertheless, it was thanks to those months in rehab that he never lapsed back into that dark place. And he would never let himself go there again.

No matter what happened.

--*--

Soon, the lights in the hall dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the crowd, indicating it was time. The finale walk was about to begin, and that moment every designer, every person in the hall had been waiting for, was approaching.

The hosts of the night, a well-known celebrity couple, took the podium on the side of the stage, as one by one each designer’s signature style was shown.

Every design, every attire was a masterpiece in itself. And everyone almost felt sorry for the judging panel, consisting of three renowned fashion designers from across the globe, as their job was tougher than expected.

So far, 8 designers had showcased their work, and the 9th number was Dhruv and Khushi’s fashion house, “Kahani”. Khushi was nervously fidgeting when she felt Dhruv hold her hand below the table. And she found herself taking some strength from that. No matter what, he had always been a pillar of strength for her, whether as a friend, a husband, or a colleague.

When she turned her head, he smiled at her, encouraging her to relax.

And then they heard the host say,

“And now, presenting the showstopper creation of Kahani, designed by the exceptionally talented Khushi Malik. This piece tells the story of a young woman’s journey towards marriage, from the innocence of her childhood to the threshold of adulthood.”

And as everyone’s curiosity had been piqued, a soft rosemary shade shimmered under the lights as the model stepped onto the runway. The three-piece ensemble of lehenga, choli, and dupatta caught every eye. The exquisite chikankari embroidery along with those delicate threads tracing the journey of a woman running behind butterflies as a child, the grace of adulthood, a bride stepping out of a doli, and a prince waiting by a palace certainly captivated people.

Arnav’s eyes narrowed as he watched. His jaw clenched, as he knew the story it told. Story of her and the man she abandoned...

Meanwhile, Anjali, who was seated beside him, closed her eyes for a moment. She could feel the weight of regret, as she had been part of the chain of events that left so many dreams incomplete.

.

It was a couple of hours later, as all designers’ work had been presented amidst loud applause and impressed murmurs from everyone. And although every piece had been stunning, but no one had managed to captivate the audience quite like Khushi’s creation.

Soon, it was time for the results. The hosts returned to the stage, their smiles bright under the spotlights.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what an event this has been! Spectacular is the only word we can use.”

The co-host added, “Absolutely. It was nothing short of magic! And we want to start by congratulating every single designer and their teams. The judges told us it was an incredibly tough decision.”

“Exactly.” the first host continued, “but they also said there was one design that stood out from the rest, not just because of the fabric or craftsmanship, but because of the creativity, and the unique story behind it. Any guesses who I’m talking about?”

A lot of voices came from the crowd, but the loudest cheer came for Kahani.

The co-host grinned. “You all are right! The award for the most outstanding design goes to Mrs. Khushi Dhruv Malik, for her brand Kahani!”

Khushi’s heart leapt. She stood up in daze while Dhruv’s hand was still holding her firmly, protectively. He too was smiling ear to ear. The joy was almost surreal, a validation not just of her skill, but of everything she had endured.

They both had endured… And now, it was time for celebration!

They accepted the trophy amidst thunderous applause and cheers. Dhruv pulled her into a hug right there, by her side, in front of everyone, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but them.

--*--

Apologies for delay and some in advance for delay in next one too. Will be away for next few weeks.