Arhi SS|New Year's Resolutions|LastPart- B&C p130 *complete!* - Page 21

when is the next update? 😳 please cont soon😉

*sigh* Nafi, I simply can't get over how beautifully you write. The similies you use are simple mind blowing. The moment where you miss a step, the war cry of soldiers are the few that registered while reading this piece.

And I must tell you I was as lost as Khushi reading about her losing control of her senses even before you described Arnav's eyes! Must be the anticipation! ;)

Poor K. Wanting to remain firm in her resolution unable to bear the assault of his eyes. The myriad emotions, and their verbal dual compelling her to reveal more than necessary. My heart broke when she was preparing herself for his backlash.

And now when I think back, even I can't remember how Khushi found out about plants being his stress buster! You are amazing for noticing all these minutest details and unravelling them in such a poignant manner! I loved this chapter Nafi. Can't wait for the next one.. :) The spoilers are promising indeed! :D

I have read this to many times till you update. can't wait to read arnav's point of view.

Sooo, tey'v seen each other's faces at stroke of midnite...arnav forced her to look at his face..heheee...
Reading her resolutions, cant help but felt tat she shouldered many responsibilities...poor gal...i wish she will get all her dreams fulfilled...
N arnav???...lets hope he will trest kushi nicely after reading what she wrote...

Waiting for an update to this one!

Still waiting impatiently for ur update..😛

THANK YOU to all the awesome people who've read and reviewed so far! You people are my heroes, literally- I might have gone insane were it not for your amazing comments and likes!

...Sorry :( Late again, aren't I? There's just not enough hours in one day. *sigh*

A/n: Umm...I haven't really read this over. I kind of commute between towns on uni-related business and then there's my part-time teaching job, so this piece has been written in snippets. If you find any spelling or grammar errors, please let me know. And if you think that the chapter could do with some editing, I'd be happy to oblige!

Again, please take note of the dates and times mentioned at the top of the subsections. The story moves back and forth through time, and it may get confusing otherwise. In chronological order, this is what has happened so far:

1) Khushi writes her resolutions in her diary, then leaves to distribute sweets to the neighbours.

2) Some time after that, Arnav finds himself stuck in Khushi's room and winds up reading her diary

3) Khushi returns home, finds and helps Akash escape (it's implied that he tells her where Arnav is)

4) Khushi tries to get Arnav out, unaware that he's read her diary.

I'm sorry if the time-switching was confusing :s

Also, as I'd said earlier, I'm fleshing out other supporting characters. The one I've tried to develop here will play a crucial role in Arnav's eventual redemption. Plus there's a bit of foregrounding to. Abh aage :p

Part 4

1st January, 2012, 12.03 a.m. (three minutes after midnight)

Akash struggled hard against the urge to scuff his heel into the loose tarmac at his feet. Not knowing what to do with his hands, hanging uselessly and a little awkwardly on both sides, he first stuffed them into his pockets, then, on considering that this made him look like an obstinate little boy after he's been told off, settled on crossing them tightly instead.

Inwardly, he was appealing to any and all deities within hearing distance to give him the strength to stand his ground and speak his piece.

While simultaneously and very exhaustively questioning his sanity in choosing to stay here over the other extremely tempting alternative, of taking to his heels and making a clean getaway from here, if only to stall the inevitable.

But Akash's pesky conscience had decided to get in the way, needling in the back of his mind and poking away at the sporadic outbursts of cowardice and selfishness directing his feet to his car and escape, reminding him in disapproving, stentorian tones that vaguely reminded him of his grandmother that if Bhai had gotten himself stuck in the Gupta residence after making his (extremely vociferous and condescending) opinion of the whole midnight tradition clear, it was because of him.

Consequently, it stood to reason that the least he could do would be to wait for Bhai to foray out of enemy territory and reach his pearl-white four-wheeler, where Akash had planted himself, and thank him.

But the uncomfortable, inconvenient (and plain annoying) conviction to do the right thing did not make the prospect any the less terrifying. It had taken several highly panicked minutes of mortification at finding himself stuck to a chair with simply a plank of wood separating him from imminent discovery by his future in-laws, several more minutes of Payalji's whispered but urgent cajoling, and a precious few seconds to bury his battered pride six feet under before he had dared to make the phone-call pleading for help.

Desperate situations, after all, call for desperate measures.

Akash visibly gulped down another vicious spurt of acute dread bursting up his system, jolting up from where he had been leaning against the cool metallic surface of the car door, his hands automatically clenching and unclenching themselves as though to temper down the panic clattering in his gut. Could anyone blame him? In the few moments of incredulous silence that had met the overview of his predicament and his entreaty for help, Akash had literally felt Bhai's rage-inflamed impatience at his stupidity radiating out of the phone.

And now he had to meet the man face to face.

It was not an attractive prospect at all.

And as much as the terror clawed at his insides, shredding his nerves mercilessly apart as he willed away the slow-dragging, tormenting seconds, Akash was adamant that he owed his brother this much. It was the least he could do to make up for inadvertently entangling him into this mess. He knew he could not stretch the boundaries of his imagination enough to picture how gruelling it must have been for someone as uncompromising and aloof as Bhai to swallow down enough of his dignity (he must have choked on it too), sneaking into someone else's house at this ungodly time of night to compensate for his own carelessness.

And it was this sobering thought which quenched part of the prickling, irritating desire to flee while he still could. In its place, a tingling, bubbling warmth flushed into his stomach, swirling and melting there and warming his insides with slowly spreading, pleasant heat, flooding into his chest until it almost swelled to contain it all.

Gratitude.

For all his timidity and soft-spoken nature, Akash was a shrewd judge of character. He was the type that observed from the sidelines, making mental notes and assiduously filing them away within his memory bank, more for the sake of knowing than with the intentions of using them in future. And in the many years he had spent in close quarters with his older brother, he had become intimately acquainted with the man existing beneath the armour of stoic indifference Bhai preferred to don.

True, there was no mistaking his natural repulsion to open displays of affection or emotion, or his uneasy aversion to shows of familiarity or camaraderie.

But Arnav Singh Raizada was not as unfeeling as he wanted to appear.

After all, look at the lengths he was prepared to go to for the sake of his family. Were it not for Bhai's concerted involvement, a woe-begotten Akash might still be lamenting his sorry technique at wooing Payalji, or cursing his cowardice for not being able to fight for the woman he loved against whatever prejudices harboured by his mother. And why did Bhai do it? Because Akash had been able to admit candidly to him- only to him- that he wanted desperately to marry Payalji.

And that was all it had taken to prod Bhai to bury the extremely corrosive, volatile (and downright destructive) hostility threatening to go off between himself and Khushiji, so much so that the two had actually called a ceasefire and become unlikely allies to bring their siblings together.

And had not stopped until they had achieved their ends.

These thought-consuming considerations had soaked into every inch of Akash's mind, effacing momentarily his dread, his exhausted and tense muscles relaxing enough to let him smooth his spine against the metal-work of Bhai's four-wheeler, leaning his head back and allowing the gravity of tiredness to pull his eyelids down.

None of this contentment, none of the delirious joy Akash had been carrying around inside him like a jar full of excitable fireflies flicking against the glass, could have been possible without Bhai. There was no denying that he had always respected the man, awed by how he had fashioned himself to become invincible instead of capitulating to defeat and self-pity like an ordinary person would had they suffered even a modicum of what Bhai had. That he trusted him above anyone else was implicit in the fact that it had been Bhai he had gone to plead his case for marrying Payal, and Bhai he had called upon finding himself in dire straits.

There was also no doubt that Akash was stringently loyal to him. If Arnav had told him, point-blank, that he could not marry Payal, Akash would have begrudgingly accepted, no matter how completely it shattered him and his heart.

But Arnav had not done that. He had looked out for his younger brother's happiness over whatever qualms he may have. Because simply put, he had cared enough.

And Akash would never be able to look his reflection in the eye if he did not try, in his own awkward and simplistic way, to convey to him how thankful, how indebted he was. Because he cared enough too, enough not to simply accept the extents Arnav Singh Raizada went for him, writing it off as his obligations as the head of the family.

Content with his resolve, Akash allowed his mind and body, both drained and nerveless from the near-traumatic ordeal of all the fast-following, near-cataclysmic events spanning the whole day, to rest a while, letting the heaviness of exhaustion catch up and sink into him. And comforted by the solace of his will, the lull in the controlled mayhem around the street-corner in the Guptas' neighbourhood, and the mild sultry breeze of the narrow alleyway where both Raizadas had had the foresight to hide their cars, Akash was halfway into the clutches of sleep when a sharp and unexpected noise towed him straight out of his torpor.

A clearing of throat.

His knees almost buckling from the abrupt shock of realising he had been near-asleep on his feet, it took Akash's eyesight several confused seconds of blinking before he could take in his immediate surroundings.

And instantly, all the trepidation and reluctance he had succeeded in easing away returned full force, not pausing for half a second before coiling around his lungs and crushing them into irreparability.

'B-bh- bhai,' he almost bit down on his tongue in abject embarrassment, his croaky stuttering causing his own stomach to turn. He could do no more than gawp idiotically while his brother, who to his drowsy and unwilling eyes might as well have teleported there from nowhere, stood motionless before him, deadpanned and with his typical inquiring stare trained on him.

He seemed thoroughly unruffled, as though he had not just escaped his erstwhile prison with his prestige still intact (which in itself was a miracle of epic proportions, considering that the odds had been monstrous).

After a few seconds of near-combustive silence, in the duration of which Akash groped maniacally within his head for the words he had rehearsed to recite at this moment, Arnav appeared to conclude that Akash was almost physically tongue-tied and decided to begin the conversation himself.

'Nice outfit.'

Oh, crap.

I knew I'd forgotten something.

***

As had become an automatic response bred into him from years of commandeering his demeanour, Arnav instinctually clamped down on the odd, unfamiliar sensation jetting up through him, jangling his ribs, smothering it on reflex before he could even recognise what the emotion was.

It was only as he studied the rather telling sight of Akash with his jaw snapped open, his glasses falling slightly askew in front of shock-protruding eyes and a dark maroon flush crawling up his neck, that this peculiar feeling, as though someone had hit the accelerator and the brakes at the same time, shaking him up from within as though he had been propelled forward by a sudden spurt of speed only to be jolted to an abrupt halt repeatedly, registered against his handbook of rarely felt emotions.

Hilarity.

Arnav Singh Raizada was fighting not to laugh.

No one can blame me, came the rather defensive statement, sounding rather mulish at admitting that his cynical self could be moved to such degrees of amusement.

But what else could be expected of him? How else would a normal person react when they found their younger brother half-asleep on their feet, wearing a carefully-pressed, immaculate designer shirt...coupled with a pair of badly creased, loose-fitting pajamas that were one size too big, and smelling so strongly of naphthalene his nostrils could detect the odour from two feet away?

And the fact that Akash had evidently forgotten his state of dress (the pinched look on his face, as though he had just swallowed an exceedingly sour slice of lemon, was easy to interpret) only served to fan the raging urge to give in to the relentless tickling and let free the laughter battling within his ribcage to be let out.

But Arnav was too rigidly programmed to reveal as little about what he was feeling as was feasible, to the extent that now circumstances, other people, and he himself seemed to demand it of him. It was merely this revulsion to the idea of breaking character and revealing a little too much about himself keeping his glee within bounds, nothing but the almost-there smirk on his face indicating his mirth at the comedic sight.

And yet...and yet, the fact that he had chosen to comment on it, rather than keeping his thoughts to himself and wasting no more time heading homewards, a prospect he had been envisioning wistfully in the many minutes he had spent stewing in a sweltering mix of outrage and the blood-boiling humiliation of being caught, no more dignified than a gormless teenager spied shop-lifting...that, in itself, was very uncharacteristic.

And so was this feeling of...buoyancy, of being afloat, not weighed down by the load of too-many burdensome concerns, mind carelessly blank and heedless, having relinquished its hold on all thought and all too content to dawdle here and relish Akash's comeuppance.

Yes, that's what it is, his inner voice grasped eagerly onto that excuse, relieved. He was just pleased. Pleased that he did not have to lift a finger to exact revenge on Akash for getting him cornered into a precarious situation in the first place.

It was rather strange, however, that all that murderous fury which had made him hackle like a bloodthirsty beast on a very thin leash had fizzled down and tamed within less than an hour.

It's nothing, he assured himself, shoving back the unwelcoming thoughts pushing to the fore of his mind, Just relief at escaping without being found out. And satisfaction that Akash got what was coming to him for being a gullible, love-sick fool in the first place. That's why I'm feeling this way.

For just as with something as uninhibited as laughter, Arnav's emergency security mechanism was tuned to clamp down and discard, beyond the reach of his psyche, any and all ideas which might threaten or presage his loss of control over himself.

Which threatened to show him that the world he had so carefully architected for himself, where every blink and every breath was planned, was not in fact, what it seemed.

That it had changed into something unstable, something unfamiliar and unpredictable and intimidating, something that was not within the realm of his command.

And he remained before Akash, willing him mentally to say something, to do something, anything at all which would distract him from the ghostly, haunting little whispers, echoes of words his eyes had read and his mind had scribbled into some obscure patch of memory, but which he refused to see.

Because deep inside the core of his exiled heart, he knew that once he did, everything would change.

***

Akash was sourly tempted to point out that his current apparel was indirectly Bhai's own fault, for refusing (or forgetting, though 'refusing' had an air of intentional spite which appealed to Akash's affronted state of mind) to bring him the pair of trousers he had beseeched him to over the phone.

However, judging by the slight upward tilt of Bhai's mouth, Akash was loath to give the man any more ammunition than he already possessed. Already grappling with yet another leap he had managed to make before thinking (as well as contending with the spineless part of him continually screeching that he should have made a run for it while that option had still been open), Akash dryly mused whether it was better or worse not having Bhai laughing out loud at him, ridiculing him openly as he was sure Di or NK Bhai were sure to do if he was unlucky enough to cross paths with them.

But the day had been long and tiring, and the fast and uncoordinated succession of energy-sucking events had taxed him enough already. It took him no less than sixty full seconds before he contented himself with the verdict that it was better having Bhai witness his disgrace than anyone else from his family.

He'd never be able to live it down.

Eager now to get to bed and contract partial and selective amnesia, Akash decided to get over with what had arrested his scarpering in the first place.

'Bhai,' he began, inordinately pleased by how purposeful and matter-of-fact he sounded; at least he was redeeming himself somewhat, 'I was just...I wanted to thank you. For coming to get me out of there and-'

'It's ok,' Bhai interposed with a casual shrug, 'You don't have to thank me. Just be grateful that Payal's Buaji didn't see you with her, or there would've been hell to pay for afterwards.'

Akash blinked. Hard. Twice.

Granted, he was not a masochist but...he had not expected that. He had not expected Bhai to be so...so dismissive, so borderline indifferent. As though the episode which had just occurred might not as well be shortlisted as one of the biggest mishaps of the year, as though being involved in it had not been a slight to every single one of Arnav Singh Raizada's inflexible principles, as though Akash's sentiment-induced actions had not almost sabotaged the wedding alliance Bhai had taken such personal incentive to secure.

The incredulity and astonishment were so great that Akash completely forgot to be relieved.

'How did you get out?' Bhai tossed the question at his stunned self. Akash had to mentally juggle with it before he gleaned enough meaning from it to answer.

'Um, Khushiji came and helped,' Akash muttered, utterly nonplussed. Had sheer panic made him overreact to the whole thing? He had expected no less than being lambasted with multiple sharpened harpoons for his indiscretion, Bhai already being notorious for having a rapier tongue when he was furious. At best, he would have to be at the receiving end of several days of chilly, frigid silence which would have jabbed and cut at his conscience, far more damaging and effective than words could ever be.

So occupied was he in his assessment of the situation that he missed the curious guttering of light, like a candle flame almost put out by an unexpected breeze, which flashed and died in Bhai's eyes at the mention of Khushiji.

'We, uh-', Akash stumbled on the words, not knowing what to say or in which order to say them, his previous plans for hightailing it the sooner he was done thrown to the four winds by a bizarre sense of something not quite right, something being off, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, like a word at the tip of his tongue refusing to reveal itself to any listeners. 'We...Payalji and I- told Khushiji where you were. She got you out too, didn't she?'

'Yes.'

Something about his tone told Akash not to pursue this question further; though laconic by nature, there was a queer ring of sternness, a little severe and forbidding, about the way he barked out that one word. Perhaps he had been pressing his luck and looking the gift-horse in the mouth, veering too close to an experience Bhai naturally would not want to recall. After all, aside from the short-lived romantic interlude with his fiance, Akash would gladly forget the better part of the evening himself. Though Akash's curiosity was instantly piqued, his imagination doing cartwheels as he mused how Khushiji had managed to pull off yet another impossible stunt, smuggling both of them out without anyone being the wiser, he allowed that line of conversation to draw its own conclusion.

Maybe Bhai was humouring him, in much the same way as he had accepted Akash's choice in his bride, and did not want to burst his pre-wedding bubble with chastisement. Or maybe he was just as tired and eager to go home and put a full-stop to the chaos as he was.

Speaking of which-

'I think we should be getting home now,' Akash pondered out loud, genuinely anxious, 'It's well past midnight...if any of the family figures out we are not home...' He left the thought hanging; the implications were irrefutable.

Bhai nodded once in agreement, glancing at his watch and grimacing at the late hour. 'If anyone does see us, we tell them we were out to settle something at work.'

Akash inclined his head to show his acquiescence to this white lie, before he frowned again, 'My clothes-'

'I'll go in first,' Bhai cut in once again, brisk and business-like once more, as was typical of him, 'if I encounter anyone I'll get them out of the way long enough for you to get in undetected. I don't think it will be necessary though- everyone should be asleep by now and I left the front door locked, not bolted, so we can let ourselves in.'

Ever the sentimentalist, Akash was once again swept up by a fresh wave of appreciation and admiration for the person he had come to regard more as his older brother than an older cousin. This was normal, this was usual in their world- Bhai always having the answer to every plausible problem, Bhai taking him under his wing when he faltered.

Once again overcome with the near-anxious need to assure his brother that the care and devotion he obviously-yet-subtly harboured for his family did not go unheeded, Akash gave in the need to finish his 'thank you' speech.

'Thanks so much, Bhai. It really means a lot to me, your taking the trouble to help me out...even though you don't believe in this New Year's Eve tradition...'

***

Arnav had not known it (or, more likely, had not wanted to know) but he had been right in the eye of a tornado. Disillusioned by the spells of clement weather and clear blue skies, fooling himself into thinking the calm and succour would all last, choosing to ignore for the sake of sanity the violent, earth-shaking thunder, the heaven-splitting lightning, the torrential arrows of rain battering pitilessly into the ground, the carnation of hell on earth walling him in from all sides.

This calm, this contentment, it had been doomed to be ephemeral from the start, fraught as it was with the crackle of lightning-heat, the pungent scent of a burgeoning storm, which could pounce on him at any minute, from any direction, renting apart this illusion of stability...

Akash's car zoomed past him, the growl of its engine and its puffing hot breath both going as unnoticed as Akash's slight nod in his direction before he sped away.

Arnav almost did not realise that he had left.

That he was alone.

Alone again.

With only his sanity-endangering thoughts for company.

And for the second time that evening, Arnav did not know what to do.

For the second time in less than sixty minutes, Arnav once more felt as disoriented and confused and lost as someone who had taken a wrong turn on a well-known route, and found himself in the middle of nowhere.

Like someone who had known exactly where he was headed, only to enticed by the journey into forgetting his destination.

Like someone who had forgotten who he was.

And this time, the catalyst had been those simple words. Simple, effortless, unpretentious words reasserting a fact he had intoned to himself over and over again, brainwashing himself into believing their merit and their truth.

... even though you don't believe in this New Year's Eve tradition...

Arnav spun about on his heels, so fast his vision swam, and rammed both fists hard onto the bonnet of his four-wheeler. He relished the sharp shooting pain tearing through his knuckles to lodge into his flesh, willing his tattered and torn mind to focus on it, willing it to become so potent and so unendurable that it would blot out the recurring chaos breaking out within the inescapable confines of his head.

Nothing made sense.

...you don't believe in this New Year's Eve tradition...

No, no I don't believe in it, I DO NOT believe one word of it, the answering voice to the matter-of-fact words rattling unnervingly in his head was vehement, seething from the sarcastic ring that Akash's innocuous statement had garnered in his memory, It's nothing but a crap piece of journalistic drivel! It's nothing more than some stupid superstitious practice by the impressionable, by people who have no control over their fates and their future and compensate for it with make-believe.

For some reason, all this characteristic, corrosive vitriol sounded a little jaded in his head.

A little unconvincing.

Especially since their conviction was drowned out and dithering in the wake of the umpteen reason-damaging, doubt-tinged questions which had burst into and flooded every inch of his skull, like birds startled into flight, each a gust of wind battering his already-torn and frayed insight before it could land and settle and absorb the implications of every single one of his rash, impulsive, reckless, thoughtless, unplanned, asinine actions, about his complete and utter abandonment of thought-

Why did you demand that she look at your face? Why did you force her to show you HER face? If none of it matters to you, if it's all bullshit as far as you're concerned, than why the HELL was it so important that you look at her at midnight?

The answer buzzed within the periphery of his mind's eye, but Arnav ignored it. He shunted it away, as far as he could, because acknowledging it would undo him at the seams, and he would fall apart.

Everything would fall apart.

But scraps of memory, lurid and vivid and all too fresh, all too detailed, flaunted themselves on the podium of his mind, like prize-winning snapshots of rare phenomena.

...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-

Why did that assumption of hers make you so angry? Why were so damn furious when you heard her say what you have been telling yourself the whole time? That you DON'T want to see her face, that you would happier without seeing her face? She was saying everything that you believed in yourself- then why were you so annoyed?!

Annoyed! Yes, annoyed! Arnav's mind, floundering for a foothold, thrashing and writhing like a fish out of water gasping for air, lunged for the straw for all its worth, That's why I got so angry- because I was annoyed at her! One minute we were just talking with each other, and the next minute she's hefted her dupatta up her face, all because of that ridiculous article...I did what I did to prove to her that there's no truth in it. Yes, that's it. I was trying to show her that just seeing her at midnight didn't mean we'd be stuck together or something. I just left didn't I?

Feverish, with slightly violent tremors juddering through him (it's the cold, Arnav told himself absently), he did not hesitate to give this verdict his stamp of approval.

This made sense. This had to be the reason why. This had to be the reason that white-hot flare of pure and unmitigated fury had kindled and combusted like a furnace within him, burning him to a crisp inside as he had ripped the offending mask hiding Khushi's face from his view, the reason why he had captured her in his bruising, unforgiving hold to ram her into the wall, incarcerating her and forcing her to look him in the eye.

That's why I did it, he repeated a little giddily in his head, shaking fingers pulling his car door open as he hoisted his suddenly-limp, fatigued body into the driver's seat, slotting his keys in and twisting them to rouse the slumbering engine to wakefulness. I was reasserting my authority. I was showing her that it wasn't some pathetic belief about midnight and New Year's eve and countdowns that determined what happened and what didn't.

I did.

Yes, yes, his recuperating consciousness affirmed vigorously.

And that was also the reason I said what I said before leaving, too...

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

To show her that tomorrow when she turned up at my house, it would be because I told her to be there.

And besides, he reasoned with himself, basking in the fading fog and clarity of mind he had moments ago craved, his limbs on autopilot as they guided the jeep out of the its corner and onto the now empty streets, whatever she might believe in she'd have to see me anyway. She'll have to come over for the sangeet dance rehearsals. She'll be present at all the marriage rituals and ceremonies. For goodness' sake, her sister is getting married to my brother. We'll practically be related soon. We'll be seeing each other on a regular basis whether we like it or not.

And everything would be back to normal.

No matter how weird their definition of normal was.

They would continue to cross paths, they would continue to fight.

She would challenge him.

Or perhaps he would challenge her.

She would ridicule him.

Or perhaps he would ridicule her.

Either she would best him and he would walk away incensed.

Or he would best her and she would walk away surly and pouting.

And then the whole circle would start once again.

Like clockwork. Like the methodical pointing of the hands of his watch pointing in turn, at precise and predetermined intervals, at each little calibration around the edge.

Just as it had been when he, hounded closer and closer to lunacy by the Pandora's box he had been foolish enough to open, spewing out with unrelenting viciousness revelations which would warp everything, destroy everything, show him bare-faced reality the likes of which he had always been aware of in some untapped niche of conscience, but had repressed knowing they would interfere with the task of living...heard her voice, and scrambled towards it desperately.

Like a blind man towards the semblance of sound. Like a parched man, dying of thirst, towards even the mirage of an oasis.

Because that had been normal. That encounter, facing Khushi with a (heart-tugging, some unheard part of his brain supplied, adorable) mixture of panic and irritation stamped on her face demanding that he leave, igniting like a little spitfire as he deliberately riled her, obeying the demands of habit and instinct to bait her, listening to her rant on and on in defence of her beloved jalebis and completely forgetting that she was supposed to get him out of there (he had forgotten too, but that little detail did not seem worth much), the little morsel of the sweet stuck to her upper lip carrying him straight off to another day when Khushi had been busily chattering to him yet again, unthinkingly smearing her entire face with batter-

That encounter had fitted in with the format of their interactions, the sequence that his brain appeared to have recognised and adapted to.

So much so that, sparring with her like that again, duelling with her and relishing that challenging glint and angry red glow in her face as she snapped back at him, Arnav had been allowed to forget everything else.

Forget the diary that he never should have opened in the first place.

Forget that it had not been all that long ago that he had been willing to wager bankruptcy to get out without facing her.

Forget that he was supposed to abhor the sight of her, forget that she was a nuisance, a scratch he could never seem to itch, his arch-nemesis.

Because accepting the fact they he had grown accustomed to her, that she had somehow become a habit, a part of his life, was much easier than accepting the alternative.

Everything will be back to normal tomorrow. She'll be there in the morning, and she'll probably take another shot at provoking me to rehearse with her. And we'll argue about it all over again.

Everything will be back to normal.

But this was the calm in the eye of the tornado, and it was destined not to last.

1st January, 2012, 12.14 p.m. (afternoon)

But the next morning had come and gone, and there had been no sign of Khushi.

Instead, when Arnav had arrived for a late Sunday breakfast at his customary brisk trot, he had met with the sight of a veritable mountain of mounds and mounds of perfectly looped, glistening vermillion, a proud centrepiece in its place of honour smack in the middle of the table. He could even see the shimmer of dancing steam above the dish, wafting to towards him and bearing along the warm, comforting aroma of crisp, fresh-off-the-stove jalebis.

Khushiji, Di had later informed the table at large, had brought these along only minutes before as a New Year's offering.

But she seemed to have been in a great hurry, as she'd hardly stopped two minutes.

Yeah...that was my attempt at writing Arnav in denial. Remember, around this time he was still very unsure about his feelings for Khushi. So I thought it'd be more natural for him to deny anything had changed at all, because it would seem a bit out of character if he instantly goes on a redemption track at this stage. But he WILL have to think about the diary, he WILL have to admit his mistake, and he WILL redeem himself. I promise you that. (yes, those were spoilers :P)

Please leave your comments! I'd love to know how you felt about this chapter...not entirely sure whether I got the psychology of this piece right

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for some reason, i loved this chpter from when she says she is hiding her face FOR him... so that he doesnt see it-- not that she does see him,,, and his PLEASE was sooo sooo sweet...

this is very much like Arnav.. Do and not accept actual reasons for that..