Arhi SS|New Year's Resolutions|LastPart- B&C p130 *complete!* - Page 14

😊 Waiting for ur update... I really wanna know his reaction...

I love, I repeat, LOVE the depth you gave to Khushi's character. I'm awed at how well you wrote that part - pouring out herself effortlessly to the diary, the feeling of numbness and then thinking of distributing sweets to the neighbours with that big, contagious smile on her face; she has resolved to make give everyone khushi this year.

Excellent, excellent update.

I wonder how Arnav is going to react. Will he give her a job at AR? Or does he have other plans. Waiting for The ASR to act.

Great going. Keep it up! :-)

Awww absolutely loved Khushi's lil written monologue !! so endearing and sensible and so so much btr den the show !!

I love you once again !

I seriously dont wanna comment ! I thought maybe once, just once let me not do the commenting, but the thought made me so guilty, I read this from the beginning once again ! And I cant help but fall in love with Arnav and Khushi all over again !

So I leave Arnav alone for sometime, cause I really want to read how you write his expressions ! The twitch of his eye muscles when he reads her resolutions ! He must just be going through so much of anguish ! And who is he kidding, does he really not want to see her, ? Boy grow up and jhut bulna bura hota hai !

^Ya I said Id leave him. but I cant help writing about him !

And Khushi ! Dont worry ! I agree with every word that you said about Khushi ! I love her, even her OTT antics for that matter, cause I simpy believe that is what makes her Khushi ! If she was made to behave like a normal rational person, I dont think I could have ever loved her so much as I do now !

And her writing in the diary ! They were good in the beginning ! But the moment she starts talking about doing this and that for her family, I just wanted to hug her ! So young, and she's had to face so much in life ! And the way she faces everything, with a brave facade, that cheery smile that is so Khushi , you really made me cry there ! And then the whole complex relation she has with Arnav ! My heart just swelled up for her ! Taking in a person's hatred without even knowing the reason can really get very irritating ! Cause she really doesnt know what is it exactly that irritated him ! And on top of that, he too keeps changing his moods , one sec he's her Knight in Shining Armor, the other second he gashes her with the same sword he protected her with, that she really fails to understand him !

And then the ending.. well finally I just found one tiny ffault, which I rarely do with your writing ! I felt it was left a bit unpolished at the end, probably a little abruptly ended ? Was it cause you forgot to save your work, and you really got tired re doing it again, I dont know, but I felt so ! But I wont complain, cause I know your works are always to perfection according to me !

I loved the update Nafi🤗
Waiting for more eagerly !!

Love you always !
PS: I wont take any guess at Arnav's reaction, I have something running on my mind, but I want to read your work before I give my opinion !

brilliant update

Nafisa, please gimme an update ? Pretty please !

Originally posted by: vgedin

Nafisa, please gimme an update ? Pretty please !

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAAAPPY NEW YEAR!!! :P I know I'm late in one case and early in the other, but I hope you guys didn't mind too much :)

A/n- *Deep breath* I am ter-ri-fied about this chapter. Seriously scared that its rushed and substandard :S

Already losing it the first time I became kind of disheartened about rewriting it again. Then, when I actually started rewriting, it kept going off in a different direction than originally intended. And I've been on two out-of-town trips since the last update, soon to go on another one on the 30th, so time is giving me issues to. But enough of my excuses.

Please note, again, the times and dates mentioned at the chapter partitions- the story skips back and forth through time. This chapter, for instance, takes place MORE THAN ONE HOUR after Khushi has finished her diary entry.

Please read and let me know what you think. *fingers crossed*

Part 3

New Year's Eve, 2011, 11.55 p.m.

The prickly unease glutted her gut, a heavy unsettling putty-like mass, uncomfortably warm, weighing down behind her navel. Currently a massive bundle of hyperactive nerves, tangled and sparking, Khushi, like a guilty trespasser encroaching on another's property, crossed the living room to the bedroom door with some trepidation.

It had been only minutes ago that she had returned from her neighbourhood expedition, bearing two large (and empty) silver platters (still smeared with residual syrup), her face flushed and a wide, face-splitting grin straining the muscles of her jaw. After being offered (and accepting, of course) samples of a wide variety of sweets, and then easily being wooed into a round of strenuous double-Dutch with the younger girls, Khushi had returned, revived, with a jauntier spring to her step, the adrenaline high evoked by (more-than-healthy amounts of) sugar combining with the celebratory thrill running like a fever outside- morbid thoughts had taken a backseat, if only for tonight.

Only to find a panicking older sister on the brink of acute hysteria, a sheepish brother-in-law glued to a chair, a prowling Nanheji brandishing a large (and hopelessly conspicuous) bouquet of red roses, (indiscreetly) circuiting the parameter of their house, and a rather stubborn Buaji intent on regaling her parents with the romantic escapades of her deceased husband.

And they call ME Sanka Devi, Khushi thought, automatically holding her breath as a spurt of ill-timed and wholly-inappropriate laughter tickled her ribs.

Nervous, hysterical laughter.

Oh, the comical flavour of the madhouse her home had turned into was not lost on her. Every single situation was fraught with something so breathlessly ridiculous and improbable that it would be hard not to find something amusing. And Khushi had always been a mild thrill-seeker, a harmless mischief-maker, whether it involved filching jalebis from her father's shop, hiding Buaji's reading glasses or sneaking into Amma's room when it was empty and trying on her jewellery and clothes while parading before the mirror.

It stood to reason thus that despite the high degree of risk involved, this whole adventure- including infiltrating her parents' bedroom and ransacking their wardrobe in search of suitable apparel to replace Jeeju's (glue-forsaken) trousers, using her (overripe) imagination to improvise a convincing enough story to shepherd the elders into their bedrooms until the fateful hour of midnight (she'd fibbed that she had a surprise for them, and they could only come out when she said so), and (best of all) escorting out a highly chagrined and visibly mortified brother-in-law, looking like he'd been dressing in the dark- ought to have amused her immensely.

If nothing else, the image of Jeeju clad in a crisp, pressed shirt and rumpled off-white pajamas ought to have evoked some justified giggles and one or two cheeky wisecracks, or at least a pleased smile and sigh at the romantic thought of her brother-in-law hazarding the displeasure of his own family and his in-laws for a midnight rendezvous with his beloved.

And they most certainly would have, were it not for that glaringly disturbing glitch- a Laad Governor in her room.

Now directly before her door, her front teeth digging further indents into her bottom lip as she bounced edgily on the spot in an uncanny resemblance to a grasshopper, Khushi was unable to keep back the spine-chilling dread that crawled down her vertebrae- this was much too much like an omen, a bad sign. No longer than an hour after she had cemented her resolution to steer clear of the bane of her existence...and lo and behold, with a strange and nigh on improbable twist of events, the very same person had turned up on her doorstep.

Or rather, in her bedroom.

Suppressing all her misgivings with difficulty, Khushi rallied her courage for this last time- this last encounter with him before she turned over a new leaf with the commencement of 2012. After tonight, she would avoid him like she would avoid speeding motorbikes and darkness. And with that thought in mind, Khushi sharply rapped thrice on the door, willing herself to get it over with, cajoling herself to lean closer to the woodwork in as loud a whisper she could manage 'Arnavji? The coast is clear!'

But that transpired to be an ill-advised move, as within just a few microseconds she was aware of tramping feet nearing the door, and before she could so much as arm herself, quickly slipping on her garb of grave indifference, the door was more or less ripped off its hinges and she found herself directly in his line of fire.

And instantaneously, Khushi forgot everything.

Everything.

Even how to speak.

And she more or less gaped, startled eyes rounded, with every appearance of a deer caught off guard by a very proficient predator.

And that, an unimpressed, tart little voice, resembling Buaji on her more cynical days, observed, is exactly why you should learn to stay away from this man.

Another little voice in her head hummed in agreement, noting rather dazedly, and with an almost frightening lack of concern, that her throat failed to comply with her half-hearted attempts at speech, that she at the moment she did not even know what to say, and that although she was aware that time was scant and there was an awfully pressing and urgent undertaking at hand, she could not for the life of her remember what it was.

And that, as the unhappy little voice in her head so rightly pointed out, was all his fault.

The fault of his accursed eyes.

Silent, eddying pools of tempting honeyed-cider, enticing her with their mysteries to abandon all her defences and search deeper in their soulful depths...It might have been music that was playing just then, faint strains of restful piano and violin, or it may simply have been the mellow contented beat of her heart, but once more, Khushi was the unwitting victim of the spell that only this enigma of a man was capable of casting on her.

But even in her overwrought state, Khushi could not overlook the niggling conviction that there was something wrong about this encounter. True (and she was not pleased to admit it), she had been held captive by his voluble eyes before, which said so many things that she could not understand, but which touched her heart and left it singing nevertheless (although she would not acknowledge that)- this time was...different.

There was an undercurrent of almost desperate emotion that rippled through to her soul, an unnameable brand of distress and need that was alien to Khushi.

Like a silent plea of help.

And yet it was so powerful she could feel it singeing its way into her marrow, her troubled gaze hazily registering the haggard- almost lost, almost morose and...hopeless- look that had replaced his usual iron-stern visor.

It was Arnavji who finally broke the impasse.

'You have something...there,' he murmured, his husky baritone rumbling low like quaking earth, as he slowly indicated with his forefinger a spot above his upper lip. As though hypnotised by this smooth movement, Khushi's hand thoughtlessly followed suit, mirroring him, her fingers grazing over her skin until it encountered something sticky.

Blinking back some of the haze beclouding her sensory nerves, Khushi managed to compose the word 'Jalebis', proffering it by way of an explanation.

He stared at her for a long moment then, and Khushi felt uncomfortably like a queasy patient under the clinically analytic scrutiny of an impersonal, intimidating doctor. There was something searching about his always-penetrating stare, as though he was looking- no, almost hunting- for something.

And then, nonplussing her already nonplussed self further, he emitted a short, humourless bark of laughter.

'Had to get rid of the surplus from your jalebi-mountain, I assume?' he inquired, a smirk- a fatigued, strained, shadow-version of his usual haughty, arrogant one- curling a corner of his lip.

He's looking for a fight, the remaining sane part of her informed her crisply. Khushi gladly seized up that fact, clinging to it like a lifeline. He was teasing her on purpose. He was provoking her. He was trying to rile her up.

And that was exactly what she would allow him to do.

She would retaliate, she would argue back, she would use every whimsical weapon in her arsenal in this last fight, would deliberately stand straight in the middle of his path, welcoming his embittered taunts, embracing the hurt he was sure to fling as a lasting reminder of her most crucial new year resolution- enabling her to finally say goodbye without any remorse or regret or dismay.

'And so?' she quipped back in as ferocious a murmur as she could manage, the daunting recollection of the time and the place and exactly why both were incredibly compromising ruffling her feathers, 'I like making jalebis, and the neighbours like my jalebis, so there is no reason for me not to make extras! Besides, making sweets is my stress-reliever, just like watering plants is yours. And I never said anything about you and your precious plants, so I don't expect you to say anything about me and my jalebis either!'

It did not help her quickly (and thankfully) rising temper that the subject of her tirade was presently arching an eyebrow at her, a hint of amusement curving the stern line of his mouth.

It helped her ignore his intent, almost scorching gaze currently charring her from within, something close to wistful yearning sizzling in those amber-in-the-light eyes.

Instead, Khushi chose the lesser life-threatening option and continued her rant, heated and at times irrelevant arguments shooting off like a hail of bullets from her (previously paralysed) mouth.

'And anyway, jalebis are not the issue here, the issue is, you need to leave, and now! Jeeju is already waiting outside and he has point-blank refused to leave before midnight...and Buaji might come out any second now and if she sees the two of you here, she'll go ballistic...already she was not too pleased when Nanheji appeared with all those roses and I-'

A sharp, too-loud-for-comfort bark apprehended her velocity-defying diatribe (which, paradoxically enough, was doing more to keep him where he was as she lectured on instead of chasing him away).

'NK? NK was here?'

Lashes fluttering in disconcertment at this abrupt switch in the line of (mainly one-sided) conversation (for lack of a better word), Khushi blurted out truthfully, 'Yes, I found him outside just as I came back home and-'

'And he brought roses?'

'Yes,' Khushi affirmed, frowning now as she struggled to make sense of this deviation, of his sudden distemper (as was only too obvious from the furrowed brow, the distending nostrils and lips frozen in a half-growl), irked that he was overlooking the issue at hand, 'As I was saying, you need to-'

'For you?'

'I don't know!' Khushi squeaked in defeat, exasperatedly throwing both hands in the air and fighting the urge to grab him by the elbow and forcibly yank him to the front door (something told her he would not be entirely pleased if she did that). 'He didn't stay long and we only spoke a little! I suppose he just wanted to wish us 'Happy New Year' and brought the flowers as a gift or something- I guess this kind of thing is normal where he comes from, even though Buaji shooed him away because it's considered improper here. And speaking of improper, you need to go to Jeeju now! Neither Naniji nor Buaji will be pleased to find out that any one of you came here despite their forbidding us, and its only a few minutes till midnight, so you can- OH!'

And in perfect synchrony with a startled 'What the-', Khushi flung her dupatta straight over her head, shrouding her face completely from view.

'You can chant your 'What the-' all the way home if you want,' Khushi hissed testily, the humid warmth of her own breath bouncing back at her from her dupatta, 'But you need to leave- right now!'

But of course, owing to his penchant for giving her grief, he ignored her completely.

'What the hell do you think you are doing?'

Instincts whetted by the absence of vision, Khushi could feel instead of see the hand that reached up to tear the dupatta from her face. Nimbly, she sprang out of his reach.

And then she said it.

She wasn't sure whether it was the potential menace of the moment that he was so intent on overlooking, or whether she was simply reckless from the irritation that burned her up slowly at the gall of this man.

Or maybe it was simply the knowledge that this was the final time she would be having anything close to a proper conversation with him that goaded her to tell him the truth.

'I'm hiding my face from you,' she told him plainly, instantly grateful that he could not see her face. She was convinced it would mirror what she was experiencing right now, that unexpected, unpleasant jolt that rattles up a person from within when they miss a step going downstairs. 'I don't want you blaming me for everything that goes wrong with you next year.'

There was a pause of exactly three seconds, during which neither seemed to breathe.

And then-

Khushi only had time to emit one loud, shocked gasp before two calloused hands hooked into her elbows, reeling her forward and swivelling her about. A mere fraction of a second later, Khushi's back had bumped straight into the wall, and her mask ripped straight off.

'What-what-' she stammered, in little more than a squeak as frantic-fearful eyes shot panicked glances first at the two closed bedroom doors, and then the wall-clock.

There was one minute left to midnight.

Another gasp tore through her throat, leaving it sore and sand-paper rough, as with speed rivalling lightning the rakshas caged her once more, as he had done on so many other occasions, his fists thudding audibly against the wall as both arms shot out on both sides of her, trapping her in between.

'What are you doing?' Khushi whimpered, her tone hushed not for fear of discovery but from the terror of finding herself so unexpectedly cornered, yet again, in a way she had come to believe would never repeat itself.

Some things, apparently, never changed, no matter how much one wanted them to.

Hot, musky-spiced breath ghosted across her skin as he growled. 'Look at me, Khushi.'

It was then that Khushi realised she had tightly lidded her eyes, obeying mindlessly the reflexes of the hunted when confronted by the hunter.

'No,' she breathed, shaking her head erratically, all the while aware of the clement heat, spiked with the heady scent that defined him, like smoked honey and mint, whispering across her skin, evidence of his unhealthy propinquity, 'No.'

When she attempted to snatch her hands up, trying to shield her visage from his view, his hold about her elbows tightened perceptibly, causing her to flinch from the dull pain throbbing at the joints.

'Look at me Khushi!' he demanded yet again, and this time she knew that he was much closer, that he had his teeth gritted.

Desperate, almost feeling each chime of the clock reverberate through her frame, Khushi defiantly shook her head, trying to tilt it away from him. 'Why?' she rasped, tears springing without being summoned behind her eyelids, 'I know you don't believe in this tradition, but I do...and I know that you- would do better- without seeing me this year and I-'

She knew she was babbling but she couldn't seem to stop. Now, trapped like a rabbit petrified in place with the knowledge that it was doomed, the only thing that mattered to her, her only shot at survival, appeared to be her last, most vital resolution. And her panic-clumsy, bewildered mind could think of only one thing to ensure it- they could not look at each other right now, not at any cost.

Not if she wished to sever whatever connection it was that kept pulling them together.

But then, the sober little voice in her head, which had managed to keep its cool in spite of the pandemonium reigning elsewhere within her, if he despises the sight of you so much, why isn't he just walking away?

And as though he had heard that thought, as though he had recognised his cue, his tactics switched in a heartbeat.

'Please.'

One word. That was all he said. All that he needed to say.

Because, somehow, into that one syllable he had packed a plethora of emotion that no other word, and no other person, could have succeeded in accomplishing.

It had shredded straight through her, hooked into her heart, and plucked it clean out of its hiding place.

Against her own better judgement, Khushi's eyes flew open and met his.

She could literally feel herself become speechless, feel her vocal chords wither, words evaporate.

So much pain...so much remorse...such...guilt?

'Please,' he uttered in that same broken whisper, twisting through her with the desperation, that strange longing, it was infused with, urging her, persuading her...to witness his vulnerability, to witness his rawest sentiment. And Khushi obeyed, fascinated by this blatant display of emotion upon the countenance of a man who would sooner swallow granite than admit to having something as mundane as feelings, when suddenly-

'TEN!'

She jumped violently, eyes wildly searching for the source of the disturbance. It took a moment and half for it to register.

The countdown for the new year.

The disembodied, magnified voice rang out from the streets, to the accompaniment of enthused shrieks of the children that must be teeming about the announcer, trying to get their shot at the microphone-

'NINE!'

The enchantment shattered, dread clattered down her from the roots of her hair down to her toes, as loud and unruly as scattered marbles, a discordant reminder of her purpose- she had only seconds now, to get him out, and what with the uproar outside- Buaji, Amma- anyone could come out-

'EIGHT!'

'Arnavji, you have to-'

'How did you know about the plants, Khushi?'

'SEVEN!'

'What?'

'I asked,' Arnavji murmured, and Khushi's heart suddenly took off like a rocket-ship. His nose was now one inch away from hers, his caramel-gold eyes boring into hers, brow slightly wrinkled, his entire demeanour demanding her unwavering attention, claiming it, 'How did you know about plants being a stress-reliever for me? I never told you.'

'SIX!'

She could not tell apart where her 'dhak dhak' began and where the ear-splitting commotion outside ended.

The voice in her head pondered aloud, How does he keep doing that? Making me forget everything, every single time...

'Di...' she began slowly, knowing full well that it she sounded more like she was asking a question than providing an answer.

'FIVE!'

He was shaking his head, his eyes never releasing hers, vaporising the rest of her half-formed answer. He was in full possession of her attention, and he knew it.

'I don't think Di told you, Khushi.'

'FOUR!'

Khushi racked her brains, stumbling through the smokescreen inside her head as she scavenged for an answer, an answer that was suddenly her topmost priority.

'Someone- must have mentioned it...and I...overheard?'

How can I not remember how I found out? How can I forget who told me?

'THREE!'

Arnavji's eyelids shut for a brief moment, before he released a deep, weighted sigh. When he fixed her with his stare again, Khushi felt the breath whoosh straight out of her body.

The fervour aflame there-

'TWO!'

'No one told you Khushi. You figured it out yourself.'

'I-'

'You knew me well enough to know that gardening is my way of calming myself down.'

'No, I-'

'ONE!'

Whistling, hooting, whooping, roaring, screaming, cheering burst into the room like enemy soldiers that had been lying in wait for the ambush, culminating into a war-cry. Bright flashes of light, iridescence by virtue of the fireworks that the less conscientious had thought to let off outside, bathed the room momentarily before fading out.

And Khushi could do nothing but stare as Arnav Singh Raizada drew himself to his full height, looking straight down into her eyes as he declared, not a tenor betraying what he felt, 'It's midnight, Khushi. And we've seen each other.'

Pause.

'Now what?' his whispered query raised goosebumps up every inch of bared skin.

Pause.

Neither of them spoke another word as Arnavji briskly crossed the living room, beyond the threshold of the front door.

Khushi had followed behind him, as unthinking and subservient as his shadow, stopping only when she had reached the doorframe.

At the very back of her mind, she was aware of doors creaking open, of familiar voices belonging to her aunt and her mother raised in jubilation, wishing each other, evidently too impatient to join the celebrations to remain cooped within their rooms, surprise or not.

But Khushi only had ears for one voice, wafting fleetingly up to her from the front steps, spoken with the air of one delivering a parting shot.

'Happy New Year, Khushi. Make sure you bring some of those jalebis home in the morning.'

I hope this doesn't disappoint anyone. I know it can get pretty confusing with the switching timelines and transitions in people's thoughts and feelings...I'm hoping I explained it all well enough :s

Next chapter will be from Arnav's point of view, takes place on new year's day, and entail the thoughts that went through his head reading K's diary and his decisions as a result. (yup, I'm giving spoilers :P)

Please do read and review! I'll consider it my Christmas present, and if you liked this chappie, you can consider it yours :D

I reserve all rights over this work of fiction and request readers do not reproduce/copy/modify it elsewhere and/or claim credit. Thanks :)

res