Arhi FF |Mohabat Door Jaane Na De| *Complete!* #1 - Page 76

loved it...

n what an explaination of the rain scene...lovely

update soon

oh god read the whole ff in one go please pretty please update soon

Chapter Twenty Four

The four-wheeler eased its way out of the hospital's parking lot.

The silence between them was punctuated by the rain as it tapped away on the roof, the windows, and the steady click of the windshield wipers as they steadily cleared semicircles in the glass which took seconds to blur again, coated with mist and spray. Raindrops raced each other, winding this way and that, twining with each other, as the wind pushed them off of their tracks as they trailed their way down the glass.

As the wipers continued to oscillate at regular intervals, Khushi heard her heartbeat fall into tune with them.

Dhak dhak. Dhak dhak. Dhak dhak.

Delhi rain suddenly held a whole new meaning for Khushi.

***

Arnav gulped. Despite the fact that he was actually drenched to an extent, despite the fact that an inevitable chill had pervaded everything around them, he could not ignore the sweltering heat that eddied about inside the car. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the outside world seemed to have been blocked off completely, cocooned as they were by the walls and walls of shimmering rainfall which smeared the sights of the streets they zoomed down, appearing no more than smudged greens and greys and browns. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the heat emanating from her skin was even more heady than usual because of the surrounding cold. Whatever it was, the inexplicable force which hauled him towards her was ten times stronger than usual, all his senses tuned into her presence so sharply that he could feel every breath she took, could almost hear her pulse.

He needed to dispel some this tension immediately; or else, he figured dryly, he would soon not be a safe person to rely on behind the wheel.

He cleared his throat, almost imperceptibly awkwardly. Keeping his eyes on the road, or what he could see of it through the downpour, he asked softly, 'What did you want to tell me about, Khushi?'

***

It was now or never. Khushi had been steeling herself for this moment, suppressing the little flurries of miscellaneous feeling exuded by her heart in tiny little bubbles,that threatened to blear her intent. Taking in a long, calming breath, she started.

Slowly, she narrated, first, the conversation she had had with Anjaliji the previous night. Her bafflement at the fact that Shyam had not bothered to call his wife after being away from home for not one but two nights in a row, about the fact that she had no idea about exactly where he was, except that he was out-of-town, which could be practically anywhere. About the fact that she did not know why he was gone, or how long he would be away.

'But that wasn't what...struck me...as strange, I suppose,' she whispered, her eyes fixed on her lap as she fidgeted edgily with her pallu. This was more difficult than she had gambled for. A nagging doubt prodded away at her heart, maliciously hinting, with an unhappy lack of subtlety, the possibility that he may not believe her. That he may think she was showing so much interest in Shyam's absence because she herself was concerned. Dread, weighing down like a millstone to the ocean-floor in her abdomen, made it difficult for her to breathe, to keep the direction of her thoughts straight, not deviating. A horribly cold shaft of blunt metal plunged without warning into her heart, freezing her very blood- what if he saw this confirming his doubts, his belief rather, that she was in love with that deceiving, lying, scumbag, that she had been egging him on to break off his relationship with Anjaliji? The knife twisted deeper in her heart as it occurred to her, causing the butterflies in her stomach to freeze and flop down into biting cold icicles scuffing her from inside- what if, she thought, possessed by freakish terror, what if everything he had been doing, everything he had been saying, had been a ploy to get her to admit to something he thought she was responsible for? What if he would stop the car right now, and throw her straight out, into the pouring rain, alone and rejected and with nowhere to go?

She bit down a whimper of mingling pain and fear. It took everything she had, every last fragment of self-control that she had had to train herself in since she became a married woman, to keep going. Her voice was hoarser now, in a low, flat undertone.

'What struck me...as strange...was that Anjaliji did not seem worried. I mean...she hadn't tried to call him, and didn't seem worried that he hadn't called her. And she didn't know...where he was, when he would come back, or even how long he'd be gone. And that's...that's...that's just weird. I mean, before...like on Teej...or whenever he was not at home...she would always call him even if he was gone a half hour. I remember when he got that allergic reaction to something...what was it again...on...was it Diwali?...she freaked out completely. But this time- I mean she was so nonchalant, it did not make sense.

'And then today, when we went to see the gynaecologist- the lady was asking about her husband, and Anjaliji sort of-' Khushi made few vague, indefinite motions with her hands, eyes on the dashboard this time as she struggled to describe what she had witnessed, 'sort of- brushed over it. I mean- it was like- like she was not- interested- in talking about him. Honestly, it was almost like he didn't really matter to her then...'

She proceeded to relate, as closely as she could the exchanges that had taken place between Anjaliji and the doctor, the rather bewildering turn of events that had prompted Khushi to make this move in the first place. She tried, as coherently as possible, to explain how her words had struck her as odd, their incongruity disturbing her peace of mind.

As her story rambled to a close, Khushi realised that she was out of breath. She sucked in air in shuddering gasps, dread sinking into the slush of sand and water within her. She whispered, softly, quietly, 'I've seen Anjaliji speak about her husband before. She was- besotted with him. He was everything to her. I mean...the only reason I couldn't tell her that he was the man who had been living in our house as a tenant, he was the one who had tricked me and my family, he was the one I had gotten engaged to...was because when I actually came and saw her...I got scared. It was so, so scary to think that...if she found out that the man she couldn't find enough good things to say about... was playing with her life, deceiving her in the worst possible way. I was scared she would not...could not...take it.

'And now...this same woman...she tried calling him only because she thought he would mind if she didn't, not because she wanted to know where he was...I've been thinking and remembering everything she's said to me and to everyone else over these past two days, and she barely mentioned him...it makes me wonder if...well if she...if she knows.'

Solitude descended upon them. Except for the windshield wipers clicking and clacking away.

Any minute now, he was going to tell her, in that deadly cold voice, shaking with manic, beastly rage, to get out.

Consequently, when she heard his breath fall heavily beside her, it barely registered. Which was probably why, when he spoke, it took a few milliseconds of scrambling about for her mind to grasp what she was hearing, and a few more to comprehend it.

'If she knows...that wouldn't be a bad thing...would it?'

The tone of his voice implied heavily that an answer was expected. Khushi felt herself teeter somewhat; that was not what she had expected.

But then again...this man never ceased to surprise her.

Rallying as much courage as she could, she raised herself to look at him.

He was facing her.

And if she had been expecting cold fury, bitter resentment, acerbic vindictiveness- she was disappointed.

Because what she saw in his eyes made her stumble backwards mentally, made her blink several times to convince herself that she was not hallucinating.

Those eyes, which used to be mere dark stones days before but had melted to liquid gold, which said nothing before and now spoke volumes...looked so heartrending Khushi felt her dhak dhak pick up dangerous speeds. There were so many emotions in those deep pools of liquid fire, fusing together: there was sorrow, there was regret, there was sympathy, there was need of it...and there were the tiniest specks of hope.

It took Khushi a few seconds to realise that his question warranted an answer.

'Um', she began, her voice cracking, 'I don't- I mean if she knew-' she trailed off uncertainly.

Arnav sighed again, turning around in his seat to face the road again. Khushi did not realise that the car had come to a stop. Outside her home. The Raizada house. All she could see, all she could think of, was Arnav and his rigid posture as he flung his head back against the seat, eyes shut, expression pained. Something twisted painfully inside her. But before she could begin to rummage around for something to say, he murmured, quietly, 'If she knows, and she's not upset...then that would be a good thing. Because the only reason we didn't tell her- couldn't tell her- the truth was because we were afraid of how she would take it. And if she knew- then it would make a whole lot of things a whole lot simpler.'

Khushi let those words settle, like passengers in a train, side by side. Grasping their tickets, seated in order. She felt a weak, low current seep out from her mind, shooting down until it reached her heart. This time, heart managed to catch on to it, and hold it clumsily. It could slip out of reach any minute.

We. He said if we told her the truth. Meaning that they had the same truth to tell. Meaning he thought both of them, he and she, were on the same side. Not on opposite ends of the battlefield. But huddled behind the same trenches at the front.

And then doubt in another shape, fear in another form, affronted her.

'But-' she sounded raspy to her own ears.

Arnav turned around to look back at her. His eyes were questioning. 'But?' he probed, softly.

Khushi felt her windpipe constrict uncomfortably. 'Maybe- maybe- I'm just imagining things. Because- because if she- if she knew- she wouldn't love me so much. She would hate me.'

Her tone was laced with only a shade of the panic she felt at the thought. If Anjaliji hated her, blamed her-

'She won't hate you Khushi'.

The assertion is his voice, its rock hard firmness, the unyielding deliberation, made her eyes snap back up to him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were blazing.

'There is no reason why she would hate you, Khushi, when you are not wrong. When you never were. If there is anyone she should hate, it would Shyam Manohar Jha. He nearly ruined us- all of us. It wasn't your fault.'

The words bounced off of her eardrums. As though they were made of impenetrable mettle. Or were in a foreign language which she could understand the gist off, but the intrinsic meaning got lost in the translation.

Before she could find some semblance of reason in her muddled thoughts, Arnav continued, quietly.

'And because she doesn't seem to be hating him right now,' he muttered heavily, 'I don't think she does know.'

Khushi's eyes followed a drop of water as it meandered its way down the side of her window.

'So that means,' she murmured slowly, 'that nothing has changed. It means that- we still can't afford to let her find out.'

'Maybe.' Khushi's head jerked back to him. What was he saying?

'Maybe not.' His eyes were unreadable. Khushi waited.

'Maybe she might still be as devoted to that swine as she was before...but maybe...I mean- it's not only unusual the way she's behaving, it's downright strange. On any normal day, if he had gone missing and she didn't know where he was, couldn't speak to him...she'd have brought the house down by now, everyone would be up in arms trying to find him, she'd have been crying day and night- she might even have gone to the police. And yet...none of that has happened. Which makes me feel that- maybe she's not as devoted to him as we thought she was. Which might mean that if she did find out- she might be hurt, yes, angry, yes- but not break down the way we feared she would.'

Thunder rolled in the distance, as though in agreement.

'So...' Khushi mumbled a little timidly, breaking into the silence threatening to break loose upon them again, 'what do we do now?'

Arnav's forefinger tapped away on the steering wheel. An agitated beat.

'I think...we should wait. And watch her...talk to her...try to understand what really has changed. Maybe she's just being temperamental because of her pregnancy. But if it turns out to be something else...in any case, we can't do anything until we know for certain.'

Khushi, chewing on her lower lip, nodded once. Terse.

'And Khushi?'

'Mm?'

'Thank you.'

'What?'

'For looking out for my sister. For caring for her. Even after everything that I've done to you to save her that I'm so, so sorry for. Even though I can't take away all the hurt I've given you. Thank you so much.'

He had turned away. His voice sounded gruff. It was shaking. Khushi felt a sob rise up her throat.

'No. It wasn't her fault.'

'No,' he mumbled, turning back slowly to face her. She sucked in a sharp breath. Remorse was flooding forth from his eyes like tidal waves, crashing upon her as though crashing against the shore. 'But it wasn't your fault either.'

***

The rain pattering away against the car gradually regained volume. The mood inside was more passive though. It felt rather- spent. As though two souls had poured their hearts out in a moment of unfathomable candour, and were exhausted by the process. And neatly bordering that was a slight air of unease. The silence was not pressing, nor comfortable- it was, in fact, quite awkward. As though those two souls had, without planning to, abandoned their armours and exposed themselves in their true colours to each other, and now, faced with people they thought they knew but now saw in brighter light, did not know how to proceed with their relationship. Were they to go on like they hadn't just had the most normal conversation of their lives? Or were they to give tacit acknowledgement to the newfound frankness?

Thankfully, they were saved from having to think too deeply into that predicament. Owing to the fact that, at that precise moment, he sneezed.

Khushi jumped at the sound and twirled around in her seat, alarmed.

Arnav was resting his head on the steering wheel, his expression scrunched up, as though he was in pain. Khushi felt something, that felt oddly like pain too, flicker through her. It seared her from inside.

'What happened?' she asked urgently, leaning forward instinctively only to be pulled back by her seatbelt. For the first time, her vision adjusted itself to the situation, looking outward towards him rather than inward towards the tussle that continued perpetually within her. His hair was damp, his clothes stained darker from rainwater. Dread was abruptly replaced by guilt, and then by concern.

'Oh, why weren't you standing under the umbrella yourself?' she scolded him, feeling exasperation seep through her. The umbrella had been big enough! 'And why didn't you bother drying yourself up? Do you have a temperature or something?'

And surprising herself, her hand shot out, as she gently touched the back of it to the side of his neck, still speckled with a few remnants of the rain he had striven to keep away from her. Guilt gave her another merciless flogging.

***

Arnav sat bolt upright at her touch. It sent white-hot fire blazing through his being, dispelling all the cold, all the damp, that had plagued him moments before. One touch from that tender hand, and he was on fire.

Khushi, clueless about the effect she was having on him, moved her hand from his neck to his forehead, frowning in concentration as she tried to gauge whether he was getting a fever. Her skin felt so soft, so velvety, Arnav suddenly felt giddy with the emotions she was evoking in him. Fireworks erupted without warning inside him. His eyes, burning with rapture, burning with need, took in her face. Her eyes, concerned, her lips pursed and protruding as her brow furrowed with anxiety.

It was too much. Her show of care, of concern, her familiarity, her unthinking physical nearness...it was all too much.

Arnav gulped again. 'Khushi,' he muttered heavily, trying to rein in his galloping heart, 'It was just a sneeze. There's no need to fuss.'

Khushi withdrew her hand, and Arnav felt a brief spasm of regret. Why did he have to open his mouth when she had been taking the initiative?

But glancing back at her, he realised that Khushi was not blushing, not looking embarrassed. Instead, she looked faintly contemptuous, almost annoyed.

'Oh, really? Just a sneeze?' she inquired, sarcasm underlining each syllable, 'That's why you were looking like someone had punched you in the stomach right?'

Arnav felt the shadow of a grin flit across his face. Her cute little face, her eyes flashing with anger, the pink splotches of colour on her face glowing with her irritation at him- it was all so endearing, he wondered for the umpteenth time since his realisation of what she meant to him whether he was dreaming. This degree of familiarity, the right over him that she seemed to be exercising so naturally- it all seemed so unreal somehow.

'It's because I haven't had any caffeine yet,' Arnav confessed, feeling somewhat sheepish. But what the heck? If they were being this honest with each other, he might as well tell her everything, 'I have a headache.'

Khushi's features transformed immediately from anger to anxiety. 'What? But Hari Prakashji took in your coffee this morning, I saw him!'

Arnav chuckled. If he was going to be an emotional fool in his attempt to woo his wife, he'd do better to make good use of it, 'He did...but I don't want coffee made by Hari Prakash. I want coffee made for me specially by my wife. Because I love how she makes it.'

He watched, amused, as what he said slowly got through to Khushi. Her expression changed seamlessly from confusion to impassivity before she suddenly blushed a furious crimson, looking so downright adorable he forgot to be amused somewhere along the line. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Closing it again, she turned back in her seat. But hearing him sniffle, he watched out of the corner of his eyes as she impulsively wheeled round again.

'You need to dry yourself,' she managed, mechanically, not looking up into his face.

But Arnav was not letting such a perfect opportunity to stamp his right on her slip out of his hands. Here, locked inside the car, away from all their family, everyone seeming hell bent on monopolising her time and whisking her away from him, Arnav finally had a chance at those few moments of privacy he so craved to share with his Khushi.

***

Khushi started when she felt his arm reach out towards her without warning. Before she could completely grip what was happening, Arnav had caught hold of her saree pallu. As her eyes widened in sheer disbelief, she watched in shock as he slowly lifted the material up to his face, all the while with his eyes on her, those eyes that were now glowing with mischief, and with something else that Khushi had begun to see there often but could not name, which promptly caused the tiny little ice sculptures of butterflies in her stomach to defrost and go spiralling through the air giddily. Her jaw dropped open as she watched him, with that playful smirk that wreaked havoc on her heart adorning his face, touch the pallu to his face, wiping away, excruciatingly slowly, the beats of water there: his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. Her breathing became ragged, heavy, difficult, as she watched him reach behind his neck with the pallu while she sat, petrified, her blood gushing through her so fast her pulse would lurch out of control if he did not stop.

Then, with the air of a man who has done nothing out of the ordinary, he sighed in contentment and returned the pallu to her lap. Glancing back at her dumbfounded, lightning-struck expression, one corner of his mouth tilted up into a lopsided grin.

Dhakdhak. Dhakdhakdhak. Dhak. Dhakdhakdhak.

'What?' he inquired, looking pointedly at Khushi's open mouth, 'You were the one that said I need to dry myself.'

Comments please!! Deliberately made this a long update to make up for the fact that I can't update any time soon- got to start revising, with A levels round the corner and 3 huge history textbooks staring me in the face :s Not to mention Hamlet for literature, with whom I can never get along *smh* anyway, enough of me being morbid, I hope you like this and don't find it too rushed:)

Hint alert :p The rain isn't done yet- it's going to bring about a lot more- lets call it conversation- between Arhi...which will help cross important roadblocks in their relationship. Only- watch out for Shyamu, coz of course he won't be hiding in Lucknow for too long