INDEX
Part1- below
Part 2
Dedicated to all those who are undergoing, about to undergo, or have undergone exams :) ALL THE BEST!! :)
Story behind this story: got stuck in traffic for almost two hours, and since I didn't have any of my revision material with me I thought I might as well kill some time.
This is an alternative take on what could have happened on the night of the weddings instead :)
SS: A Series of Most Fortunate Events
*Part One*
Shyam stood back and examined his handiwork with a smug smile on his face. Etched on the surface of the mirror he stood in front of, sprawling across his own reflection, were the words 'Chad pe aake milo'. He surveyed the damaged, blunted lipstick he had used to scrawl his message and smirked. Rani Sahiba's favourite lipstick...or it used to be at least. Rani Sahiba would very soon be in a place where what shade of lipstick she wore would hardly make a difference.
Shyam chucked the worthless tube into the nearest dustbin he found as he sauntered out of the guestroom that had been acquisitioned for Khushiji and her sister's use. He felt uplifted. It took all his self-control to keep his face impassive, to prevent anyone in this house, teeming with people, to look through the facade of the perfect damaad that he wore with such ease. No one could see the relief he felt at having finally removed the biggest thorn in his way to his Khushiji- Rani Sahiba. He allowed himself a small smile. After all the frustration, all those failed attempts, after being nearly stung by a scorpion himself, he could finally see his efforts glimpse the face of success. It was all he could do not to gloat.
Quivering with anticipation, Shyam casually headed away from the crime scene, in the confident expectation that he would be able to pull off the guise of the bereaved widower, despondent in his loneliness, with perfect sangfroid.
***
Arnav strode out of Di's room, relief surging through his veins at breakneck speed. He felt very lightheaded. The horrific fear had twisted within him like a cold dagger ripping through his flesh when he had seen his sister stumble through the front doors, bruised. Cold fear had seized every particle of his existence, his warm blood merely icicles rendering his entire being numb as he heard of the accident, his mind taking horrifying turns towards dark possibilities that threatened to obliterate the wall of control and composure he prided himself for.
But having spoken to Di, after having laid his head on her lap, after feeling her soft fingers running through his hair, her soft voice soothing him, Arnav felt his nerves, feeling almost frayed from the crackling tension that had sent them haywire, smooth out. His frozen heart thawed and pumped warm blood around his body, restoring his breath. Di was alright, a little hurt, but alright. She was still here, with him. And he would make sure he took every possible step to make sure that what happened today never happened ever again.
His hand was just reaching into his pocket for his Blackberry when he heard the frantic tinkling of anklets somewhere behind him. Wheeling around, he failed to catch a glimpse of the figure that had just dashed past, lost somewhere in the crowd swarming about in the hall. Not that he really needed to see her- the sudden tranquillity that descended on him, the sudden lull that followed, the chorus of voices fading somewhere into the background, his sudden quickened breathing, his suddenly thundering heart...it could be only one person.
Unconsciously, Arnav smiled. Gazing into space as he twirled the Blackberry in his hand, the advice that Di had sent him out with echoing in his head.
Jab dil mein koyi baat aaye, toh usse keh deni chahiye...
***
Payal prayed to Devi Maiyya fervently, chanting every incantation she knew with feverish speed. She had never felt this nervous in her entire life. The rate at which her heart had hammered away, a deafening uproar that she was certain anyone who passed her could hear, had nearly tossed her over into unconsciousness. But she had snuck out nevertheless, cloaked by the pallu of her saree, moving as fast as she could, her edginess making it difficult for her to coordinate her own limbs to keep from tripping over each other or the hem of her saree.
Her prayers seemed to have paid off; either that, or she had been able to move unnervingly fast, because no one had halted her on her way to the terrace. Now, as she risked lifting the pallu slightly off her head, wiping the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, Payal willed the cool breeze making the strings of fairy lights streaming down the walls sway to ease some of her tension. After all, Khushi was usually the one that lived on her instinct, the one who would spontaneously follow any of her heart's commands. This was the first time Payal had taken the initiative, listening to the tentative opinion of her heart and taking the enormous, nerve-wracking risk of obeying the message she had found scrawled across the message on the mirror when she had stepped in there to start getting changed.
The memory of the message, which had caused her hand to quiver as she wiped it away, erasing the evidence, caused her heart to flutter. It was a strange tussle that raged within her. There was an eager anticipation, a thrill almost of waiting for what her Akashji might want to say to her, a thrill of defying the instructions of all the elders that the bride and groom must not meet before the wedding. She immediately sent a stream of apologies to Devi Maiyya, praying that nothing would go wrong. And then there was that little bit of fear, of anxiety, of what he might have to say to her. But whatever it was, this strange amalgamation of emotions, it swamped her in a cosy, comforting warmth, which even lessened some of the grief of parting with her family, some of the dread of becoming part of a new family who resided in a world thoroughly different from the one she was used to. Dreamily, she remembered Akashji's incessant, persistent attempts to meet her, talk to her, woo her, despite all those times that she had tried to dissuade him, turn him down. And then, he had managed to sneak into their house on New Year's Eve too, just for her sake, to see her face at midnight, despite the stern disapproval of Dadiji and Buaji...if he could hazard so much for her, the least she could do was heed his wishes and meet him on the terrace...after all, today was Valentine's day...and then, Khushi was there...if anything went wrong, she could count on Khushi's aid...
Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching fast behind her, Payal stiffened.
She had been on the verge of turning around, her head bent, grateful that her pallu would perhaps shield part of her face and its furious red, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The moment she felt that touch the sirens in her head went off, sounding a strident red alert, an unbelievable ruckus making coherent thought difficult.
That wasn't Akashji.
But before she could pull together her composure and pivot about to face whoever it was, before she could begin to steel herself to answer a multitude of embarrassing, awkward questions, she heard voice that she was only too familiar with.
A voice she had grown to detest.
'Khushiji? Hum jaante the aap zaroor ayengi...'
All signs of uneasiness, all semblance of hesitance evaporated in an instant as an electrocuting streak of shocked realisation annihilated her confusion. Payal felt a fury surge through her as she wheeled around and slapped away the hand of the man behind her as though his touch had scalded her. She watched, her own features contorting to reflect the disgust she felt, as the sugary smile slipped off the face of Shyam Manohar Jha, to be replaced by a look of pure shock.
He recovered himself quickly, schooling his features back into his signature smile, a smile that Payal had learnt to read as having insincerity written all over it.
'Arre, Payalji? What are you doing up here? You should be getting ready, everyone must be looking-'
'Stop', Payal retorted, her outstretched hand, palm facing outwards, cutting him short. Her eyes narrowed at him. 'So you wrote that message on the mirror?'
***
Shyam's mind sprouted a litany of curses while he fought to keep his expression impassive. Stupid fool! You forgot to write Khushiji's name in the message!
But now it was too late and he had to handle the situation as best as he could. Mind racing as he struggled to reorganise his scattered composure, he smiled good-naturedly, answering in a voice dripping with politeness, 'What message, Payalji? What mirror?...oh, wait...are you saying you are here because someone sent you a message? Then it must be Saale Sahab! A meeting on the terrace...Well, that is romantic, isn't it...can't even stay away from you for a minute, can-'
'One minute,' Payal interjected again. Her pretty little face, usually so calm and serene, looked outraged. Shyam held his breath. Payal was the shy type...if he teased her some more about coming up here to meet Akash, what with the fact that it would cause a whole lot of commotion if any of the elders, especially Mamiji, found out...he could perhaps distract her and send her scarpering, and devise some other way of meeting Khushiji alone. But he could barely congratulate himself for his presence of mind when Payal drily continued, 'I didn't say that the message had anything to do about meeting anyone anywhere.'
Shyam felt his eyelids fluttering involuntarily as he broke out into a cold sweat. Dammit! This girl was sharper than he had given her credit for. And not only that but...he cursed his own overconfidence. The momentary conviction that his plan had been finally carried through to fruition had resulted in him recklessly abandoning his guard, his careful presence of mind. But all was not lost yet.
'Yes Payalji, but why else would you be up here at this time, when you ought to be in your room getting ready? All alone and-'
'So why did you think I was Khushi? Why were you so convinced that she would be here?'
Shyam bit down hard on his lip, almost drawing blood, as he began to perspire freely. He had gotten himself entangled in his own web...now how was he going to get out?
***
Khushi was highly flustered. She had dashed what seemed to have been a marathon from one end of this unnecessarily large house to the other, before closeting herself into the guestroom, with brightly coloured, sequined, glittering clothes sprawled all over the bed, half the contents of the trunk they had brought with them spilling out on to the floor. Catching her breath, she allowed herself to heave a sigh of relief. She had spent the past quarter of an hour trying to convince Amma and Buaji that Jiji was in her room getting ready, resulting in a loud and ear-splitting sermon from Buaji about the sanak of Sanka Devi, leaving her sister alone at a time like this when she would be consumed with pre-marital jitters. This had been followed promptly by Khushi taking to her heels and bolting as fast her legs could carry her to the guestroom when Amma had suggested they should all go down and help soothe Payaliya's nerves, shouting over her shoulder that she could manage. Now, as she crossed over to the bed to find her own clothes, she prayed devoutly that Amma or Buaji did not march up to the room and demand entry. Or at least that Jiji would return soon from her rendezvous on the roof.
And then, as her fingers caught hold of the heap of fabric she had been looking for, something else eclipsed every other high-strung thought her mind was swimming in.
Mujhe tumse baat karni hai...
Immediately her hand flew up to her chest, tightly rolled into a fist, under which her heart seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size and thudded mercilessly against her ribcage. A cavalcade of butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach, swarming in every plausible direction, her whole body enveloped in jitters as her mind churned out vague, half-baked theories, as her heart pummelled all her breath out of her body. Her head was swimming, every nerve in her body alive and dancing to a strange, exhilarating beat that had never before been so potent.
What...did he want to say?
***
'Well? What is your answer to that? Why did you take Khushi's name? Why did you think I was Khushi?' Payal's voice was gaining volume by the second.
'Hush now, Payalji, do you want to have the whole house up here?' Shyam's simpering voice was now laced with menace. He had realised that pretence was futile, and although he was almost certain that Rani Sahiba's car and everything else in it must have gone up in flames by now, he did need the sympathy of this family if his act of an inconsolable widower in desperate need of companionship was to make any headway. And besides: they were his goldmine, and only a fool would voluntarily gamble them away. Faced with a furious Payal, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, Shyam decided to use what ammunition he could to silence her.
'Already, your mother-in-law isn't too pleased with you,' he continued in honeyed tones, banking on Payal's usual diffidence, 'if she comes and sees you here of all places, and that too with another man, she would jump at the excuse to break this marriage off once and for all. Do you think you can stand the humiliation again Payaliji? Do you think you can ever hold your head up high in society again?'
He raised an eyebrow at Payal. She was seething with anger.
'How dare you- you- threaten me?' Payal whispered, in barely controlled tones, 'How dare you try to blame me for being here with another man when you, a married man, came up here after leaving a message telling my sister to meet you? What do you want anyway? Isn't the fact that you robbed us all of our happiness enough, that you are still continuing with your games after everything has been discovered?'
'How are you going to prove that, Payalji?' Shyam cooed, his over-sugared poison oozing out of his voice, slipping back easily into the surety that he could entangle Payal in his web of words as he did with everyone else, 'How are you going to prove that that message was written by me to Khushiji, and not for you by...someone else?' He trailed off, his sneer vindictively suggestive.
Payal felt her fists clench themselves, her fingernails digging into her flesh as she gritted her teeth. This much anger...such fury...she had only ever experienced anything as close to this only on one other occasion. Only felt spite rear itself in her in such dangerous ways only once before. When Arnav Singh Raizada had borne her unconscious sister into their house after she had been missing for an entire day. Her sister who was working to support the family despite being its youngest member, Khushi who blamed herself, and continued to blame herself, for her broken wedding, her Khushi, who would do anything, go through anything, be they accusations or insults or humiliation or torture, to put a smile on her face. Her Khushi, who had rushed in five minutes before midnight on her birthday to make it memorable. The girl who had swallowed her pride and made a truce with the one man who had sworn to make her life hell since the day she met him, just because her sister had fallen in love with that man's brother.
Payal took in a deep shuddering breath. If she had been saved from a horrific marriage, which if it had gone through would have throttled her spirit of life and plunged her into the pits of misery, it was because of Khushi. If today, despite the stains to her dignity that broken wedding had scarred her with, she was on the brink of embarking on a new journey with the man she loved, it was because of Khushi. A fierce rush of protectiveness engulfed her, the fierceness of a possessive mother bird that had caused her to scream and shout at Arnav the day her cold, worn, weak, unconscious sister was brought back home after one of the most traumatic experiences of her life.
Khushi was quick to jump into the mire whenever it was a question of her family's happiness. And Payal would jump into the mire whenever it a question of Khushi's happiness. Whatever the consequences.
'Why don't you leave her alone?' she ground out, her voice deadly low. She was quivering with pent up anger, 'What has she done to you that you can't leave her alone?' Her voice climbed a few decibels. 'Isn't it enough that you tricked us all into believing you were single, and Bauji wanted you to get married with her, that you tricked her into getting engaged to you despite knowing she didn't want to? Isn't it enough that you, a married man, had pushed my sister to the brink of a lifetime of disgrace? My family to a lifetime of humiliation? What kind of devil are you that even after we know everything about you...you still won't leave Khushi alone?'
She was panting now, panting with the effort of keeping her anger, her fierce readiness to protect Khushi from whatever intentions this monster standing before her could possibly have, driving out completely any memory of her impending wedding.
Shyam stood before her, unruffled. He simply stared at her clinically for a few seconds, before finally inquiring, his tone unreadable.
'As I have already pointed out to you Payalji...you can't prove it. You see...I have this family wrapped around my finger. They will blindly believe anything I tell them. And they will especially believe me over anything you might have to say. Already Khushiji has been humiliated quite a number of times in this house...and now everyone knows about your first rishta being broken off too. Mamiji would jump at the chance to break off this one as well...especially since she is quite convinced that the only reason you ensnared her son was for the money. How will you prove to anyone that I ever got engaged to Khushiji? And even if you can prove...how can you stop me from getting her? I will simply blame her of seducing me, tricking me into marriage so she could help herself to the wealth of this family...and you know that they would believe me. When you know that one mistake of yours and I can bring this little wedding to an end, as well as any dignity that Khushiji has- I will be her only choice-'
'Harjayejiii...oh, no wait, I mean...Parjayijiii? Where are you?' another voice, a new voice, called out somewhere close by. Both Payal and Shyam started, their heads snapping towards the entrance of the terrace.
NK.
Shyam quickly looked back at Payal. 'Remember what I told you,' he whispered. His voice was bitingly cold, the threat barely concealed.
It belied, however, the tension that slowly gnawed away at him at how unconvincing, bordering on pathetic, his own threats were.
***
Khushi, biting her lip, pushed the door an inch wider and peeped outside. No sign of Nanheji. She had sent him to look for Jiji five minutes ago, after he informed her that he had spent the past half hour with Jeeju in his room.
Where could she be? Khushi, perplexed, twirled one of her bangles round and round about her finger. She had already changed, decked from head to toe in the way she had fantasized she would be on her sister's wedding. But now that that wedding was finally taking place, the bride herself had disappeared. Khushi tried to fight off the anxiety gripping her- maybe she was lost. This house was so huge no one could really blame her if she was...maybe she had gone to the kitchen for some water...or maybe one of those fussy, loud aunts downstairs had caught hold of her and were too busy inspecting her...
Khushi resolved she could not wait any longer. Slipping out through the door, she pulled it to, all the while hoping against hope that she could find Jiji before Buaji and Amma decided to drop by. Carefully tiptoeing around the corner, she peeked about to see if she could see either of them before rounding it herself.
***
'Arre Jeeju, aap bhi yahaa? Were you looking for my hone-wali Bhabi too?' NK grinned brightly as he stepped into the terrace.
He appeared not to notice that Payal stood frozen halfway away from the terrace entrance, her skin dead white, her pupils dilated, her breathing almost audible. As though she had been thrust into the heart of a nightmare she could not wake from.
Shyam was quick to seize the opportunity luck presented him. 'Y-yes, exactly. I was just telling Payalji that everyone was looking for her downstairs and she had better go and get dressed soon...she shouldn't keep our Saale Sahab waiting!'
'And you shouldn't keep your Rani Sahiba waiting either, eh, Jeeju?' NK winked exaggeratedly at him, 'Besides,' he began more seriously, 'After the accident, she needs you...'
'Accident?' Payal repeated, sounding rather dazed, the blind look glazing over her eyes receding as she blinked several times at NK, 'Anjaliji had an accident? When? How? Is she OK? I-'
'Calm down, calm down!' NK held up both his hands to stem the stream of questions the suddenly anxious Payal was sending cascading against him, 'She's fine. Just a couple of scratches...she's totally alright.'
***
Rani Sahiba...alive? Rani Sahiba is still alive?! How is that possible?! How could that be?
Shyam's thoughts went into overdrive, as he, drenched in cold sweat, experienced an uncomfortable lurching sensation heaving about within him, queasily nauseous. Suddenly the temperature on the terrace had become swelteringly hot, so humid that his lungs appeared to constrict, shrivelling and unsuccessfully trying to draw in air. He swallowed with difficulty. Dammit it all- despite all my efforts, Rani Sahiba is still alive! I can't do anything about Khushiji if she's still in my way...but how did she survive? How did it go wrong? My foolproof plan-
From a great distance away, he heard NK's accented voice assuring Payal that Anjali was fine, she was in bed resting, and she was all pumped up and ready to be a part of the wedding. They ought to be thankful to Devi Maiyya that nothing serious had happened to her. With great difficulty, Shyam managed to grab the runaway strings of control as they slithered beyond his clutches. He had prided himself on being able to slip insidiously, seamlessly, into the role demanded of him in any situation, and right now, the situation demanded the ever-doting, hopeless romantic of a husband to go into a paroxysm of panic at the mere thought of his hurt wife. But his nerves were jangled, his composure tipped over precariously, at having the satisfying consolation of success in his tireless scheming shattered to a million tiny particles.
Back to the drawing board.
***
Khushi was genuinely worried now. She racked her brains for an explanation of where and how her Jiji could simply have disappeared to. Wild hypotheses and half-frenzied thoughts assaulted her as Khushi darted about the house, sneaking glances around corners, trying her best to avoid her mother and her aunt, trying to evade the countless relatives and guests gathered and being drawn in into their mundane conversations.
Khushi's steps slowed down as she stopped before the one place she had so far not checked. Or rather, two places. The poolside...and his room. Even the mere thought of venturing in there, where she had no doubt he would be alone (after all, not that many people had the temerity of walking straight into the lion's den), caused her over-speeding heart to accelerate to even more unhealthy heights. Suddenly parched, Khushi wondered for a split second whether Mamiji might have had Payal abducted. Or whether Payal had simply run away, unable to bear the thought of the never-ending 'Hello, Hi, Bye-Bye' grinding against her eardrums like a broken record player for the rest of her life.
Shaking her head to get rid of those solutions, which were far too crazy even by her standards, Khushi willed herself to be rational. There was no reason on earth why Jiji would wind up in that Laad Governor's room...so the only other place left was the poolside. And there were other ways of getting there than through his bedroom.
***
'And make sure that-' Arnav's words dried up on his lips, withering away as he watched what could only be a hallucination, a figment of his imagination, a dream, descending from the stairs by the poolside as he stood within his room, in front of the glass door overlooking the pool.
Khushi...
His hand, still holding the phone he had been dictating instructions to, fell limp to his side as he watched the slender figure of the same girl that had rushed past him earlier that day, and had for good measure, disappeared afterwards, reach the bottom step of the staircase, looking about uncertainly. Clearly, whatever, or whoever, she was looking for was not there, and Arnav nearly walked into solid glass in protest when she turned to retrace her steps back up the steps... when chance played into his hands.
A loud bleating sound made them both jump. Arnav watched, securely shielded in the relative darkness of his room, where he had, thankfully, not bothered to turn any of the lights on, as Khushi swivelled around to find the source of the sound.
Laxmi. Busily devouring the strings of flowers heaped in a straw basket near the glass doors.
***
'Laxmi, what are you doing?' Khushi had rounded the pool within seconds, grabbing hold of the basket and yanking it out of Laxmi's reach. She bleated loudly in protest at being deprived of her evening snack, and Khushi nearly clamped a hand over her mouth. It was bad enough that she had to be out here, right outside his room and possibly in plain view- she didn't need Laxmi giving away her presence too.
Not that Khushi had any real idea about exactly why the idea of facing...him...was giving her enough palpitations to land her in hospital.
But just as Khushi straightened up again, consoling herself with the knowledge that since the lights in his room were evidently not switched on, meaning he was probably somewhere else in the house and she had managed to miss him during her excursions, the glass door slid noiselessly open.
Khushi felt herself go numb as the very person she had been trying so hard not to think about stepped out in front of her.
***
She was wearing red.
Time and space ceased their existence, leaving in their place a familiar melody. A melody that had never been penned down, had never been played by the fingers of man, but a melody that every fibre of his being knew by heart. A melody that thrummed along with his heartbeats, that fell into harmony with his erratic pulse, punctuated by his shallow breathing. A melody that enclosed them, him and her, into a world of their own, securing them in their own domain away from the rest of the world.
She looked breathtaking. Her red lehenga, the enticing crimson only serving to add more fuel to the already roaring fire within him, the ruffled hem of the skirt tastefully embroidered in gold and emerald. Sparkling little stones glimmered and winked at him, scattered about the length of the skirt. His eyes, unblinking, mesmerised, rose higher. The skirt hung low at her slim waist, accentuating only so slightly her lovely curves, leaving him painfully yearning for more...his eyes scorched upwards still, to where he could barely glimpse a narrow stretch of creamy white flesh by virtue of her blouse, her perfectly, mouth-wateringly tailored blouse that clung to her like second skin, not quite meeting the waistband of the skirt. Arnav frowned in frustration. The dupatta was ruining his view. A translucent long dupatta, embedded with tiny little stars and bordered with the same intricate gold-green embroidery, granted him only a glimpse of the mystical beauty before him, tantalisingly keeping the rest hidden.
Breathing had become difficult. It seemed that his heart, in its enthusiasm to accompany that melody that had grown ten times louder, had managed to crowd out his lungs. The lack of oxygen made him feel lightheaded, coherent thought a long past memory. But still his eyes rose higher, the anticipation nearly rupturing his nerves, to what he had been dying to see for so very long...
Her face.
Arnav did not realise that he had actually stopped breathing until he exhaled loudly, air gushing out of his mouth in a whoosh. Was it possible, he asked himself, was it humanly possible for anyone to look so...divine? So unbelievably, implausibly beautiful?
She had left her hair down, the long black tresses caressing the milky white satin of her skin that a part of him subconsciously craved to emulate. The curtain of hair glistened under the gleam of the fairy lights crisscrossing the poolside walls, framing that angelic face that left him speechless, breathless, the ivory standing out against the ebony. A rose-pink flush had infused the milk of her skin, so alluringly that Arnav felt a painful pang of longing as the fire within him blazed even higher, consuming him completely. Her lovely eyes, those beautiful coffee eyes that he had so frequently drowned in, were veiled beneath her entrancingly long eyelashes. Her lips quivered.
The melody serenaded him now to the accompaniment of words he had heard that same day...'Jab dill mein koyi baat aaye, usse keh deni chahiye...'...Never wait for tomorrow, for tomorrow never comes...
The last cords of control snapped, and Arnav had no intention of mending them.
***
Payal stared unseeingly as Shyam hurried off towards his wife, with every appearance of being a distraught husband devastated by the news of his wife's plight. Her throat was uncomfortably dry. She could not swallow. Something painful, something sharp, had settled in her heart, and every beat seemed to shred her bit by bit.
Plain fear, unsullied terror, rendered her incapable of thought.
'Bhabi,' NK's voice broke into her mesh of thoughts, jumbled together in an inseparable mess. Payal turned blindly to face Akashji's good-natured, sweet cousin, the furious pace of her thoughts robbing her of the faculty of sight. Who should she tell? If she told Amma or Buaji...Amma, she had a feeling, would never allow her to expose Shyam's truth in front of the Raizadas, for fear that her daughter's second, and perhaps last shot at happiness be exterminated...Buaji...Buaji would not stand for that devious little devil trying to re-enter Khushi's life, especially if he had to ruin her in the process.
She stopped cold. Yes, that was the problem. She would have run off to find the nearest Raizada and poured forth every fact she knew about the deadly duplicity of Shyam Manohar Jha; she was sure she could prove it- the whole of Laxmi Nagar knew Shyam as the man who had lived as a tenant at Buaji's. She had no shortage of witnesses...she was sure that once the Raizadas took it upon themselves to delve into the past of their beloved damaadji, they would discover the same unpleasant realities as she and her family had. But that was not the problem...the problem was...if he decided to do something to Khushi...Khushi, who had withstood everything the world had to throw at her for things she never deserved...even if they could perhaps prove him wrong in the end, Khushi would be hurt, badly hurt, in the process. And perhaps it would take eons to mend the broken ends, to lace life back together again. Maybe it would even be impossible.
The fact that they had known this reality for a while made it worse. No one could blame the Raizadas for seeing that single act as an act of selfishness, hiding one caustic truth from those who deserved to know the most. An act of selfishness, perhaps, because revealing the truth might have brought the wedding to an end. And there was no trusting Shyam. A man who did not let the fact that he was married stop him, a man who was prepared to lay at stake the faith and the happiness of two whole families, had fooled an entire neighbourhood into seeing him as a good-natured, kind-hearted lonely bachelor...was capable of anything.
And Payal was not sure she was willing to risk 'anything' when it came to Khushi.
'Bhabi!' NK's voice was more insistent now. Payal frowned. He sounded urgent. That was a very uncharacteristic sound for the usually jovial NK. His face slowly swam back into focus.
His expression was as urgent as his voice had been.
'Bhabi', he repeated for a third time in a low voice, the urgency reeling Payal out of her daze. But before Payal could come up with something reasonable, given the situation, to say, NK interrupted, 'Don't worry. He can't do anything to anyone. I heard it all.'
***
Khushi's dhak dhak echoed wildly off the walls surrounding the poolside, sounding the alarm bells in her head- she needed to flee. This situation was far too familiar- a creeping, haunting, suffocating sense of deja vu stole over her, her mind overcrowded with fragments of half-formed thought that nonplussed her further than she already was, doing nothing to soothe her nerves.
He just stood there, right before her. Watching. Or rather staring. Khushi could have sworn, as she peeked at him from behind lowered lids, that he was not even blinking. He did not even seem to notice when Laxmi, cleanly yanking the string of flowers out of her limp grasp, ambled away, brushing past his leg as she made off with her dinner.
She bit into her lip hard, fighting to clear her head of the buzzing that seemed to have taken permanent residence there. She cleared her throat nervously. It sounded hopelessly loud in her own ears and she winced slightly.
'Woh- hum- Jiji ko dhoondh rahe the...aur...' she mumbled, feeling her already heated face now exuding steam, warm blood rushing in her cheeks as she heard her feeble little voice shake, 'aur...Laxmi-'
But whatever else she was planning to say shrivelled at her lips, tossed away by the mischievous breeze that swept over her.
Because at that moment, he had started to move towards her.
Khushi panicked. Her nerve endings flailed wildly as, despite the cool breeze that was sweeping her hair off her shoulder and against her face, causing her diaphanous dupatta to billow and forcing her to cling to it for dear life, did not hinder the fact that she suddenly felt herself burn, smoulder and burn, under his scorching gaze. Without thinking, as though by clockwork, she felt her limbs start to drag her backwards. Her mind now, devoid of the buzzing, was curiously blank.
Perhaps that was why she was under the unshakeable conviction that staying here was not healthy for her. Perhaps that was why she could see this evening unfolding in exactly the same manner as another evening so many nights ago. Perhaps that was why her panic, suddenly finding herself vulnerable under the assault of his penetrating gaze, that uncomfortable feeling that his eyes where boring into her and branding her very soul, was laced with dread and with fear. Her mind, numb, did not try to contradict her unfounded belief that she needed to lock up her heart more securely than ever before tonight- if those prying eyes managed to wrench off the steel door of the vault she kept it in, her bruised, scarred heart would be trampled again, and perhaps this time not have the courage to recover.
The thought of escape, nothing but escape, possessed her entirely.
Depending on response, I'll figure out whether I wanna continue this...and to all those who read my FF...guys, I'll try to update a chapter as soon as I can. No promises on when though :s Still got a couple of important exams to go first...
Anyone wanting PMs, please buddy me :)
Link to Part 2 (page11)- https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/3000604/a-series-of-most-fortunate-eventspt11-p115-note121?pn=11
I reserve all rights to this work of fiction and request that readers do not reproduce/copy/modify it elsewhere and/or claim credit. thanks :)
Link to my other works, if anyone's interested:
OS: Cul-de-sac - https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/2994876/ff-cul-de-sac-ch-7-pg-49-28-06
FF Mohabat Door Jaane Na De https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/2787215/arhi-ff-mohabat-door-jaane-na-de-complete-1
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