A Series of Most Fortunate EventsPt11 p115,Note121 - Page 12

I loved it. That was an amazing update. Arnav is on a mission, he won't get distractedd. I can't wait for the next part.

Loved it! Hoping you will continue even more :D

Lovely - I am in love with the premise of this story - I hope you write more!

Oh my I do wanted this too happen but then all well that ends well
Great update
Lolzz when he said main tumhe kha thodi jaoonga
I was like yeah u won't eat her but u will devour her
The way u described Khushi heart palpations
And then Arnav's POV amazing the trasition btw scenes were so smooth as if we are watching on TV
Great work

Looking forward to the next update

Beautifully written, loved how u have described ASRs voice and her panic and dhak dhak, aw the phone call reminded her of diwali and bought back some unpleasant memories, but by the look of it this time it shud turn out better.

Four more exams left!!! Sigh, with freedom just around the corner, I promise my next update will be for Mohabat Door Jaane Na De, a long juicy extensive chapter in gratitude to everyone who has wished me luck for my exams, supported my work so far,kept with the FF, and everyone who's going through or went through exams themselves. All the best! :)

*Part 3*

*A tale of when the right things happen at the right time*

NK slammed his palm onto his forehead so abruptly that Payal jumped slightly, wheeling around to face him, unease written clearly across her face.

'Bhabi, you need to get downstairs! Khushiji is going crazy looking for you...and if your Buaji and Amma figure out your not in the room, it'll cause a lot of unnecessary problems...you go downstairs and start getting ready-'

'No,' Payal whispered hoarsely, her big black eyes looking oddly lightless, oddly lifeless, as they focused unblinkingly on NK. Her hands were twitching as her fingers looped themselves agitatedly about the ends of her pallu, their erratic tugging threatening to fray the fabric. The air suddenly seethed with tension, the stifling sultry breeze replaced by an almost charged awareness, as NK's expression moulded from one of urgency to one of troubled confusion. He did not get a chance to probe Payal further though, for she continued quietly, 'I can't- I can't go through with this- knowing that I've kept something so huge from Akashji and his family. I have to tell him...tell Dadiji, someone...anyone.'

The initial shock NK must have felt at her words flashed across his face for half second before relaxing into something resembling a grim comprehension. Payal was no longer looking at him. Her eyes had turned away, away from the entrance to the terrace, staring blankly, unseeing, out at the open spaces beyond the low boundary walls they were enclosed in. She was quivering.

'Khushi tried to tell Anjaliji...she was very adamant that she wouldn't let Shyamji get away with cheating on her like this...but the day she came to tell her...she- I- Anjaliji...her mangalsutra tore. And she broke down completely. And Khushi couldn't tell her- breaking the basis on which Anjaliji lives...' she drew a great shuddering breath, before pushing herself to continue, 'And that was our mistake. That- disgusting- leech- no, NK bhai...I have to tell them; I can't keep back something so serious to save my marriage...it wouldn't be fair-'

NK sighed heavily, slipping his camcorder back into his pocket.

'I understand Bhabi...but now is not the time to talk about these things. Di just got out of an accident, she's horribly shaken up- she'll break down further if she finds out about all this. Everyone is waiting for a wedding to take place downstairs...and we're not letting that bloody scumbag win by letting him ruin your life, or the lives of your families.'

'But NK bhai-'

'I understand where you're coming from Bhabi, I do,' NK interjected, his urgency evident, 'But- well, I don't think you did anything wrong. I mean, I'm thinking about telling Di...and well- I can't. He's her everything. I don't have the guts to break the faith she has in him. But right now, you need to stop feeling guilty Payalji. Akash is waiting for you. You need to get ready for the wedding. And as for telling someone- you've told me. It's my responsibility now.'

***

Khushi's fingers were rigid under his, frozen the minute his had wound themselves securely about her hand. Standing with his back to her, he felt her fist clench abruptly as she made to yank herself free of his hold.

But he was too fast for her.

With one clean pull, his arm tugged Khushi backwards, forcing her to retreat via the same route she had singled for escape. A rhapsody of chiming tinkled as her bangles and anklets rang out in protest at the sudden jerk as their owner stumbled back into his view. His other hand shot out of its own accord to wrap itself snugly about her creamy elbow, latching itself at the joint to steady her, just a breath of a distance away from him.

Enveloped suddenly in that flowery fragrance that seemed to exude from her porcelain skin, Arnav was compelled, suddenly, to battle for breath.

***

Khushi's mind went curiously numb as she felt herself get reeled back into the spotlight, under the merciless, penetrating scrutiny of that laad governor's eyes.

This is it, she told herself, half-heartedly attempting to brace herself for a torrent of poison tipped darts, his venomous, resentful words, a repeat performance of that fateful Diwali night when she had made the mistake of letting her dreams stray to worlds they had no business being in. Her mind refused to contradict her.

So they- she and her mind- were considerably surprised when they heard the soft velvet murmur his lips uttered next.

'Tum humesha mujhse door kyu bhaagti ho, Khushi?'

Khushi blinked several times, one part of her convinced that she had imagined it. But the other half argued back in stentorian tones- how could a murmur such as that, that made a chill run down her spine, that made gooseflesh erupt up her skin, that made the sugar-syrupy, bubbling liquid that had replaced her blood begin to drench her in a familiarly unfamiliar warmth from within, be imagination? Doubtfully, she tentatively raised her eyes to glance at him.

'J-ji?' For some reason, she was whispering too.

'Maine poocha...' there it was again. That same silk-soft whisper, that light drawl that made ripples of some unknown emotion wash through her in waves, '...ke tum humesha mujhse door kyu bhagti rehti ho?'

Khushi felt her eyelids flutter controllably as she attempted to come to grips with that question, her bafflement all the more pronounced having what she had very nearly classified a hallucination repeated to her in no uncertain terms. Her throat, suddenly, was uncomfortably dry.

'Woh-' she croaked with difficulty, an incomprehensible buzzing starting to gain volume in the back of her mind. What should I say? What's he asking? What's that supposed to mean? Why- why- 'Er- woh hum bhaag nahi rahe the...woh Jiji-'

She wondered vaguely for a few seconds exactly what it was to do with Jiji that had landed her in that situation. And how it was supposed to get her out.

'Khushi,' he interrupted her softly. Khushi gulped. His voice, warm as melting butter, was barely audible over her errant dhak dhak. Rendered speechless by some alien lump that had grown painfully in her windpipe, Khushi bit into her lower lip, her eyes finding solace in the collar of his midnight black shirt, sternly ignoring the fact that her skin was being scorched to within an inch of existence, ablaze where his unrelenting hands grasped her unreservedly. Unabashedly.

'Maine kaha tha na tumse, ke mujhe tumse baat karni hai?'

That was it. Khushi's survival instincts kicked into motion. Whatever it was that he wanted to say, whatever it was that required him to have her cornered like this, alone and without a hope of flight, she did not know. All she did know was that something deep within her heart, concealed beneath the layers and layers of weathered steel she had salvaged for her defence, was clamouring loud and high, shouting out jumbled possibilities, painting pictures of dreams she had only glimpsed once, before the canvass had caught fire and crumbled to ash before her eyes. She did not have the courage to watch those pretty colours, the vibrant, sparkling colours that existed in her fantasies, darken into sombre grey and black once more.

She pulled at her hands with all her might, straining to break loose of his grip. He did not release his hold on her. Irritation reared once more within her, laced with the fear-spiked adrenaline.

'Arnavji, hume jaana hai, hume Jiji ke paas honi chahiye-' Suddenly firm, suddenly stiff, her words formed themselves together purposefully.

***

He knew she was right. He knew that they were in an improbable corner in a house full to bursting with people. He knew someone was liable to stray their way any minute. He knew that his entire family, not to mention hers, would be on Khushi's trail soon enough, besotted as they were with her.

But he had parted ways with logic some time ago, and though amicable their mutual farewell had been, Arnav was not keen to see the face of reason any time soon. Because reason had been that little speck of dust in his eye that had kept him from seeing what he should have seen a long time ago, what he ought to have seen on another night when this same vision, a burst of colour in his monochromatic, black and white world, a tumult of song in the choking silence that resided around him, had stood before him. Promising to ward away all the demons of his past, light an undying flame in the heart of the dark he had learnt to draw comfort from. And that speck of dust, coated in prejudice, coated in pride, in the throttling knowledge that someone whose beliefs in life opposed everything he stood for, lived by, was slowly carving a little chamber in his long dormant heart for herself, had fouled his perspective, and he had ripped that picture to shreds for fear of losing himself in it, and in the process, crippled himself.

Tonight, reason was an unwelcome party at their tete-a-tete. Tonight, he would not allow himself to relive that nightmare.

'Arnavji,' she insisted, sounding almost petulant know. He smiled inwardly. She was possibly the only person on the planet whose anger he found endearing.

Endearing? He found it endearing? An inner voice, disbelieving and aloof, piped up. His heart answered by thudding extra hard as he watched her lower lip jut out cutely, her eyes narrowed at him in frustration.

He leaned an inch closer to her, without warning. And something almost savage, delirious with joy, roared within him as he watched her still, her beautiful eyes widening, inviting him to lose himself in their turbulent depths, mirrors to her every emotion. She caught her breath at his sudden closeness, her startled gaze rising to meet his.

'Tum kabh mujhse door bhagna bandh karogi, Khushi?' his tone sounded hoarse, each tremor reverberating with the electricity that he could feel crackling in the minute space between them. His nerves were aflame, his blood pounding loudly against his ears.

'H-hum...' An exhilaration that he had started to identify with those stolen moments he coveted with Khushi alone throbbed insistently as he watched her voice falter just as his. She was not unaffected by him. Just as he could no longer deny how much he was affected by her. 'H-hum aapse door nahi bhaag rahe hai...'

'No?' he queried gently, 'So why don't you want to stay and talk to me?'

He watched Khushi's eyes squeeze shut, as though she could not bear the directness of his question, could not bear the fact that he was not bothering to veil anything, not bothering to keep himself sheathed behind his shroud of indifference.

Or- the thought caught him unawares, jabbing what seemed to be a white hot iron rod into his unsuspecting heart, the pain taking his breath away- or, as though... having whatever guard she had had ripped asunder by his own inability to control, to comprehend, to accept what his heart, muffled beneath the mechanical workings of his mind, had hurled repeatedly at him...she was frightened of letting her guard down before him once more. Frightened that he would tear her apart just as he had torn her, and himself, to pieces on the night of Diwali.

***

Payal breathed a sigh of relief only after she managed to barricade herself into the guestroom, bolting the doors shut as soon as they clicked to. Breathing in quick, short spurts, trembling from the strain her mind, body, soul had just wrestled with, she turned blindly to the shaadi ka jora Khushi must have laid out for her on the bed, taking a few staggering steps towards it.

She needed to get ready before anyone discovered that unexpected twist of events that had occurred that evening. It was a miraculous stroke of luck that she hadn't come across anyone else on her way back, or that no one had come to summon her for the wedding ceremonies. She was certain the agitation would be evident in the atmosphere if anyone had noticed anything out of place. As she lifted the heavy garment into her hands though, Payal suddenly felt a renewed spasm of gratitude for NK, for the reassurance that he had lent her that she had so desperately needed at that point, poised as she was on the verge of breaking apart the tender relations the two families had begun to sew together.

Khushi's phone had been left on the dressing table, and Payal did not know where she could be. But as she began to sort through the complicated design of her wedding attire, she felt a soothing sense of relief ease her nerves. It was better Khushi was not here. She would immediately know something was wrong, and she would be unable to keep back all that had just occurred on the terrace. Khushi had more than enough on her plate already- Payal did not want to add her own troubles to her little sister's difficulties.

She just prayed that NK was right. Prayed that the decisions they had taken before parting ways at the terrace had been right.

***

Naniji fingered the cordless telephone, her expression troubled. Madhumati, who had been hanging onto the upholstered arm of the loveseat she was sitting in, leaned even further towards the former.

'What happened?' she inquired urgently.

Naniji sighed heavily. 'What else?' she replied grimly, 'The Panditji is stuck in traffic!'

Madhumati pressed her knuckles to her temples, 'Hai re Nandkishore! Kya zamaana aagaya hai...Delhi traffic managed to slow even Devi Maiyya's emissaries down!'

Garima, so far sitting tersely beside Buaji as the three women strove to locate the whereabouts of the Pandit, felt a nagging thought needling away at the back of her mind. She had spent long enough down here, cloaked in the tension of missing the muhurat of the wedding.

'Jiji,' she softly interposed, 'I think I will go up to Payalia now...'

'Yes, yes,' Nani agreed promptly, then added reassuringly. 'Don't worry- we won't miss the muhurat...there is still plenty of time for Panditji to get here...and besides everything else is ready. At least we know he is on his way now. You go up to Payal bitiya. She needs you right now.'

***

'Are you- scared of me Khushi?' he asked quietly.

Khushi's eyes flew open immediately.

That note, that unmistakeable tremor, the hurt that it tried to hide and failed, struck her like lightning.

She stared up at him, dumbfounded by how sudden the change in atmosphere had been. Whereas before the air had tingled with anticipation, thrilled with current zigzagging between them, it had suddenly grown heavier, weightier, suffocating, settling uncomfortably about them. Perplexed, her eyes sought an explanation in his face.

Before being caught and locked by his own eyes. Khushi sucked in a breath. Those orbs of molten gold no longer gleamed with mischief as they had moments before, mischief and something else that had quickened the pace of her pulse. Instead, they gazed straight back into hers, glistening with vulnerability, with...with what looked like regret...what looked like pain.

That same look...those same eyes...that had silently pleaded with her that night when he had first apologised to her, when she, unable to take it, had unravelled the painful secrets about her loneliness, the loss of her parents, which she strove so hard to keep hidden behind her sunny smile.

That same sincerity robbed her of her defences. Khushi felt her armour disappear, leaving her helplessly exposed.

'Are you?' he whispered again softly; his voice was so low, yet Khushi felt the silent plea his question screamed reaching out to her, that desperate need for reassurance.

And unconsciously, Khushi felt herself shake her head in dissent.

Arnav's right hand, so far holding onto Khushi's elbow, gently, almost diffidently, slid down the remaining length of her arm. A shiver ran up her frame at the touch, the skin burning where he touched her. But she could not look away. The pull of his eyes were relentless, as relentless as black holes in space threatening to suck her in, leaving no trace of her behind. The tips of his fingers grazed the array of glass bangles banded about her wrist. Their gentle tinkling contrasted sharply with the thunderous uproar of her heart.

Khushi continued to stare, fascinated, as Arnav's eyelids drooped shut as the music greeted them, cutting short her access to the swirling pools of caramel she had been swimming in. But her befuddled brain did not manage to cite a protest, for he let out a light chuckle before looking back down at her, and letting his glance drop down to her wrist. Curiosity tiptoed into Khushi's daze, and she followed his gaze.

To where a host of scarlet and gold glass bangles glinted cheerily back at them.

*A tale of when the right things happen at the right time*

I would really really appreciate it if you just take two minutes of your time to leave a comment about what you felt about this chapter :) It would make writing this in the middle of revision worth it...and I've started replying to comments of my works, and PAKKA PROMISE I will get back to everyone as soon as I can :) I love reading what you guys think- so please leave your feedback? But I know its exam season and most people are busy, so I won't mind if you can't :)

Link to Part 4- https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/3000604/a-series-of-most-fortunate-eventspt11-p115-note121?pn=31