Arhi SS|New Year's Resolutions|LastPart- B&C p130 *complete!* - Page 39

Sigh... This is such a wonderful story, i really hope you continue to update :)

Patiently waiting

Loved it! So was it NK who pushed Arnav in?😆

just loved the update
payal's mother hen instinct were really touching
can't wait to read more
thankx for the pm and sorry for the late comment:)

Nafisa, Pl update at least now.. How long do you want us to wait??

Honestly, Arnav is too complex and delusional a character - he gave me a headache with the following parts, and I hope you will like it because I'm not too sure :s

Part 5 II

1^st January, 1.03 p.m. (afternoon)

Khushi wanted to spin on her heels and run. She wanted nudge aside anything in her way and barrel straight towards the bedroom - wanted to bolt the door shut and bury herself under the covers and stew there for the remainder of the day, with her disturbing thoughts and tormented feelings for company.

But her legs refused to budge, and with instinct dulled and rationality deadened by the disarming couple of shock and fright, Khushi could do no more than just stare at him.

Staring straight back at her with those cryptic eyes, unfathomable and undecipherable, mocking her with their secrets as they so shamelessly delved into hers.

Her breath hitched, and a dizzying wave collided with her, wisps of black fog flooding into her skull and pushing behind her eyelids as her stomach lurched sickeningly. She felt nauseous - nauseous enough to pass out.

But something in her already knew that she would not be fortunate enough.

And so she remained, the soles of her feet nailed to the floor by whatever force of the universe was hell-bent on her destruction, and she could only watch him stand there, cool and unaffected, as though the compromising, damaging events of last night had not even happened, as though the two of them had not toed the line of forbidden territory yet again...

And in that moment, Khushi resented him all over again. Resented him from the core of her being with a burning that had nothing to do with the blaze of anger, but everything to do with the sting of a too-fresh, too-raw wounds. Burning with the pain of it.

She resented him for being able to walk away unscathed, while nearly every encounter between them left her with a deeper gash to her soul.

This encounter would be no different - she had taken that for granted already. There had been a pattern to their confrontations, a sequence that varied only a little. And according to that sequence, whenever Arnav Singh Raizada did anything in the least contradictory to his usual attitude of disparaging condescension, if he did anything at all which might give her pause and make her rethink her assessment of his character as a cold-blooded monster of a man -

-he would do everything in his power to convince her that she was wrong. So very wrong.

And here he was again, irrespective of Khushi's shameless confession that she was trying to keep herself away from him, in spite of every last measure she strove to take to help her keep that resolution...and there was conviction deep in her bones that this time too, one of them was going to emerge from the fray bruised and broken.

The only difference was, this time Khushi was determined that it would not be her.

***

Though small by his standards, the living-room he had been shepherded into along with the small crowd gathered near the doors was generously proportioned, cool and breezy by virtue of the windows thrown open into the early-noon light.

And yet, Arnav felt uncomfortably crowded and claustrophobic, and his condition had nothing to do with humidity or cramped spaces.

Give him a room full of the top business magnates of the country and Arnav Singh Raizada would be in his element. But here, in this informal setting in the midst of people who had only a few months ago been complete strangers, and were now well on their way to acquiring the elite status of 'family' in his books, Arnav felt completely at sea. The prevailing mood of intimacy and amiability, into which Akash had assimilated so naturally, made Arnav uneasy and restless, not able to reconcile such feelings of familiarity with those he experienced within the closest circles of his family.

But even then, it was not as if he was not used to confronting adverse situations and adapt accordingly. It was not as though this was his first time sitting here amongst the Guptas in a semi-formal visit. He had been there with Nani and Di and Akash when they had brought over the shagun for Payal, after all, and he had dropped by several times since.

Today, however, and no sooner than he had set foot over the threshold, his composure had been shot to hell and tossed up in a tornado from Bedlam.

He had no idea why.

Or perhaps he preferred not to think about it.

Oddly enough, the first thing Arnav had noticed had been her hair.

He had seen it loose before, beautifully straight and velvety, and had seen it plaited in austere loops, every runaway tress pinned in place. He had even grown accustomed to the colourful, fluffy little pompoms often adorning the length of her long braid, which bounded up and down in time to her excited movements.

But he had never seen it like this...and was thoroughly entranced by the sight.

The mass of silken, rich brown was partially held up, in a bun of sorts he assumed, but several unruly strands had escaped from it and hung loosely about her face and neck, brushing ever so lightly against her shoulder at the slightest movement. The front of her bangs hung low over one eyebrow, for once not clipped back from her forehead, somehow accentuating the thick lushness of her lashes, the decadent dark-chocolate of her eyes, as wide and open as always.

What captivated him the most, though, were the graceful little waves and soft ringlets of the locks tumbling about her, curling up a little at the ends.

He'd never seen her like that before. With her hair all tousled and un-brushed, uncombed. Untouched and natural.

It looked, almost...charming.

It made him wonder whether, if her long tresses were loose, it would fall down her back in an undulating, rippling river of the darkest-brown silk. Whether the swirling contours would catch the afternoon sunlight just as these renegade strands did, stippled with bronze-gold in places and deep, burnished ebony in others.

Suddenly it was imperative that he find out.

So imperative, in fact, that he had quite forgotten that he was still standing framed by the doorjamb, motionless and staring with unabashed directness at the object of his interest, until Buaji had waddled up to him with booming words of welcome.

And even then, his flyaway mind had taken its own sweet time settling back into place, as slowly and leisurely as a leaf drifting to the ground, and he might not even have entirely extricated himself from his trance had not a pair of hands rammed, palm-first, into his shoulder-blades, shoving him through the doors and breaking his polished poise. He had stumbled for a moment, stunned as the noise level cranked up a bit -

-and even though he was befuddled and disoriented, it did not take him long to figure out who the imbecile with the death-wish was.

And maybe it was just as well, because as he had silently seethed and rolled over a dozen different choice insults in his head while stifling the litany of curses itching his tongue, he had been saved from the compulsion to examine the bizarre thoughts that had so brazenly paraded across his generally guarded mind -

-and all because of a few errant strands of hair.

The thought popped in his head as inconspicuously as a soap bubble and before Arnav realised what he was doing, his determined stare had shifted from where Akash was conversing politely with his mother-in-law to the loveseat where two of the people he had been trying so pointedly to ignore were sitting side by side.

This was a mistake.

White-hot anger ignited unexpectedly in his mind, taking him aback by its vehemence, startling him into dropping his guard.

NK might very well not be a person he could brag to like, but he did tolerate him at most times. The man's flippant attitude to anything and everything clashed discordantly with his own solemn and serious approach to life, and it had long been established tacitly between both themselves and their family that the two could never quite share the brotherly bond between Akash and himself.

But ever since this morning, when he had caught sight of his flamboyant cousin flouncing down the stairs towards breakfast, something almost vindictive had clenched in his gut and his temper had flown in seconds - and he could not even understand why. Everything that the man did, everything which Arnav on an ordinary day might not even notice or give heed to, tested his nerves until they were thinning and close to their elastic limit. Either he was chewing too loudly, or showing too many teeth as he smiled, or talking with his mouth full, but there was possibly not one minute during that entire meal that Arnav had not concentrated on keeping his stern silence intact, lest any of his agitated thoughts slipped out before he could catch himself.

And ever since he had seen NK saunter into the living-room as though he owned the place, greeting everyone with bright wishes of a happy new year and one-armed hugs, acting every bit a person the Guptas had known all their life, his nerves had been charged and crackling, humming electrically.

It had only gotten worse when he had plopped into the two-seater couch and patted the space next to him, inviting her to sit beside him.

An incensed growl tickled at the back of his throat and Arnav only realised how tightly he had clenched his fists when his knuckles cracked audibly. Biting into the soft inner-flesh of his mouth, he ignored the coppery tang coating his tongue as he willed the bite of pain to clear his brain of the invasive, disturbing thoughts that had snuck in there again...

Of impossibly soft, silken tresses...long and loose...

But NK appeared to have signed his death warrant this morning, and wound up saying the one thing guaranteed to snap his precariously held control.

'So...Khushiji...did you like the roses?'

'...when Nanheji appeared with all those roses and I-'

'NK? NK was here?'

'Yes, I found him outside just as I came back home and-'

And his forced tolerance shattered like glass trampled to powder underfoot.

And he remembered exactly why he had been tempted to the verge of homicide since this morning.

Or, more precisely, since last night.

'Ji? Oh- you mean - oh yes, they were very pretty...in fact, I've put them up in that vase over there so everyone can see them.'

'See, I knew you'd like them!'

'And he brought roses?'

'Yes...As I was saying, you need to-'

'I'm sorry, I should have thanked you last night for-'

'For you?'

'I don't know! 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...'

'Last night?'

Arnav did not realise he had spoken until two pairs of eyes turned from what appeared to be a very engaging dialogue to fix on him. But next moment, the liquid-coffee orbs he had sought out flashed away from him again, dropping to focus on two hands clasped together in her lap, her posture suddenly rigid, as though she were suddenly conscious of being watched.

It made something furious and feral roar through him, steadily dismantling sense and composure. With a vein throbbing ferociously over his left eyebrow, irrational, unstable anger pulsing in his blood, Arnav turned steely eyes towards his cousin, who, to his grim satisfaction, looked faintly sheepish.

'I thought,' he began again, very deliberately, his tone even and arctic, while black-fire roiled in his gut, 'that you were in bed from jet-lag last night, NK.'

***

Haha. See? The almighty ASR was eavesdropping.

NK pushed off the smirk trying to pull at his lips. Instead, he feigned complete ignorance to the mutinous daggers (metaphorical, of course) being targeted straight at his head by the cold eyes that were rumoured to send friend (though NK doubted he had many) and foe (which he suspected there were in abundance) shivering in their shoes.

But if the ruthless, domineering Arnav Singh Raizada had been hoping to wring out a guilty admission from him, he was sadly mistaken when NK flashed him a roguish grin and a conspiratorial wink instead.

'Ah, but Nannav,' NK deliberately sing-songed his special nickname for him, fancying he could practically see spurts of steam blowing out of his rapidly flaring nostrils as he did, 'It was New Year's Eve! And my first in Delhi - had to make it memorable. And besides - ' he lowered his voice suggestively, and a sly, knowing look entered his eye as he watched Nannav arch a questioning brow at him, ' - you didn't think you could just abandon me as you went off for your own fun, eh?'

And not for the first time, NK wished he had had a camera at the ready.

Because really, that dumbstruck, speechless look that sputtered and vanished over the stoic, deadpan face of Nannav was absolutely priceless.

And NK prided himself as being one of the privileged few walking the earth capable of getting him to display it.

'What? What is this? You two went out late at night? Doing what, exactly?'

And as Akash rushed to appease a highly suspicious and fire-breathing Buaji with stories of some urgent matter at AR that had required their immediate presence, NK did not bother hiding his own knowing smirk as he watched Nannav's eyes stray from glaring holes into him to flicker in Khushiji's direction.

Who, ever since Lord Raizada had deigned to speak to them, had been paralysed into place, shoulders stiff with tension, head bowed low over tightly grasped hands - but not low enough to hide the pink flush of her cheeks, reaching low into her neck and behind her ears as well.

It just made him grin harder.

***

'What? What is this? You two went out late at night? Doing what, exactly?'

The near-accusation in Buaji's rising tenor had Payal nearly going up in flames as guilt, then embarrassment, then panic took turns to sweep through her, the fractured mosaic of sensations leaving her confused and bewildered as she swept wide, alarmed eyes from her suddenly formidable looking aunt to a conflicted Akashji.

And then, almost on reflex, her panicked gaze had flown to Khushi - part searching for support as she struggled to keep her cool, and part hoping Khushi might once again charge in to her rescue.

-and had found instead Khushi rigidly seated beside NK Bhai, who was speaking to someone opposite him, her body angled toward him in a manner suggesting she had been speaking to him, but now held in a frozen reluctance, tense and tight, as though she were trying to physically disappear.

And her sixth sense was rioting once more.

'Actually, Buaji, Bhai and I - we got called in to deal with a pressing matter at work -'

'That late at night, and on the night before New Year's too?'

'Yes, actually...you see, it's just that...just that all matters need Bhai's explicit approval before they can go through, and what with the wedding coming up soon, Bhai and I are trying to clear up our schedules to make time for all the rituals and for family...'

Payal hardly heard, barely understood, and did not care at all.

All her previous concern, her worries, her near-immutable conviction in a place that went deeper than her heart that something was wrong, seriously wrong, that there was something seriously wrong troubling Khushi - it all came back like a battery of bullets, renting apart her anxiety for herself, nailing in the gripping, urgent anxiety for her sister.

It had been only minutes, minutes since Khushi had reverted to her normal self, springing up and fleeing from reach as she teased her, running out of the room to find Akashji in the living-room and not sparing him either, all the while with that impish smile and the spark in her eye that Payal knew so well...

...and even in the midst of her mortification, Payal had felt a small dose of solace soothe her heart, enough to quiet her doubts and believe what her sister had reassured her of as she laid her head on her lap as she had so many hundred, thousand times before.

But it was not sleepiness and not fatigue that she saw etched into the rigid, tense lines of her sister's figure, and though she did not have a clear view of her face, Payal did not think to doubt her sixth sense again - not where Khushi was concerned.

She was frightened. She was cowering away from something.

But what? And why? She was perfectly normal when we came out...when we greeted Akashji and then she started teasing him about the pajamas and then...

And something clicked into place, and all those disconnected dots across that black stretch of paper, just waiting for her to join them together, began to merge together until she could almost make out the picture they hid-

-and her stalking eyes snapped towards the person sitting on the lone armchair opposite Khushi's loveseat, and a wave of something just a whisper short of understanding crashed over her and made her head reel.

Arnavji, her to-be Jethji, and Khushi's arch-nemesis from nearly the moment the two of them had met...

...was staring at Khushi with the most emotion she had ever seen him exhibit.

It was gone again before her eyes could fully adjust to what they were seeing, and by the time she had blinked to clear her vision he was coldly regarding his cousin again.

But it had been so unguarded and so close to wistful that Payal had sucked in a sharp breath that snagged painfully in her chest, shock freezing her synapses, as though sensing she was not ready to process exactly what all of this meant.

Khushi's silent jittery edginess since before they'd gone to bed...

Her stubborn reluctance to go to Shantivan...

And the one-eighty degree turn in her behaviour just now...

...after Arnavji had appeared on their doorstep.

And it was then that a realisation which had evaded her up till now finally dawned on her, bringing with it a freight-load of new questions and perplexing notions -

She had remembered Khushi smuggling Akash out of the house last night, and then darting back in to get Arnavji...

...but it was not until past the hour of midnight, after the countdown and fire-works display, that she had seen Arnavji flit out their front gate and out of sight.

What could have happened in just those few minutes?

Please scroll down for next part!

Part 6

1^st January, 2012, 1.34 p.m. (afternoon)

His heart dislodged itself from its place and plummeted up to attack his Adam's apple, until it thumped painfully in his throat.

Khushi had just gotten to her feet.

And he had absolutely no idea what it was about that act, but it tranquilised the flammable rage that had been suffusing like petrol into the pores of his being, needing no more than a single lit match-stick to combust and take down everything around him with it.

Especially the person his brain had aptly nicknamed 'The pain in my neck.'

But then Khushi had decided to move, and somehow all the petrol had been rinsed out.

With those slender hands she secured the shimmery, translucent dupatta precariously over the gentle slope of a shoulder, her bare, anklet-clad feet touching down on the rug with a pleasant tinkle as she murmured to her aunt about something to do with tea and stoves. He watched, with the assiduous attentiveness of an ardent student, as her right hand rose to run its fingers through her thick bangs to sweep them out her eyes, the movement releasing a few more strands from her messy bun...and then with seconds that stretched to hours, he discovered that her slim, milky white wrists were enclosed in only two, thin silver bangles, unlike the colourful, glittery arrays he was used to seeing on her.

And this second incongruity made him eager for more - eager to look closer, to see what else he could spot that was different, what else he knew he could spot as different...

...because whether Akash was getting married into the family and 'the pain in the neck' was acting like he was, it was Arnav who knew Khushi better than anyone else.

He was not sure if it was pride or anticipation or some other equally elusive emotion jostling with his heartbeats, but he did recognise the disappointed faltering of their rhythm as she swooped out and away, a blur of soft pink disappearing towards the door he knew led to the kitchen.

'...you don't have to do anything, Buaji...'

'Oh, nonsense! Our damaad and his brothers have come to visit us all together, we can't send you back empty-handed!'

With a great deal of conscious effort, Arnav managed to pry himself away from his wandering thoughts, scenting their danger when the feeling of disappointment refused to ebb but instead embedded itself deeper into his gut.

Turning to face Buaji, he assured her solicitously, 'We did not mean to impose. Actually, Di had forgotten that we had given our driver the day off, so Akash volunteered to come. And then we decided it would be better to bring two cars so we could drive everyone to Shantivan comfortably, especially Kh - ahem,' he coughed a little, choking and clearing his throat before continuing gruffly, 'Payal's Bauji.'

And then, partly because he wished to cover up his senseless slip, and partly because he was still poaching a bit in his ire, he added flatly,

'Though I'm not sure what NK is doing here.'

'That's easy,' the insinuated party quipped, and the buffoon's complete lack of seriousness, and the absence of even the hint of guilt on his face made six and a half different ways of maiming him without witnesses pop into his head, assuaging only partly his morbid bloodthirst, 'In fact, thank you for reminding me - I'd totally forgotten. I came here to have a fight with Khushiji.'

'Ji?'

His respiratory system collapsed at that moment and Arnav wound up trying to inhale and exhale at the same time, ending with a rather ragged tuft of air puffing past his lips as he quickly looked up to watch her approach the centre-table, her springy, light steps hindered by the load of the large tray she bore in her arms.

And Arnav was left dazed once more at the pace of his rapidly, erratically vacillating emotions, defying his feeble attempts at controlling and regulating them and instead skipping from one to the other on a moment's whim. It was like trying to stem a river flooding, fed by the unstoppable rains of feelings he could not filter, swelling until it was only a matter of time before it burst its banks and crashed over, washed away everything, changing the geography of his thoughts, of his life. He could sense those changes happening, struggling reflexively to build up barriers, prop up embankments, hold off the tide for a while longer...and in this confusion the urge to move, to gain his feet and outstretch his arms, lodged into his joints as his brain struggled to translate what he wanted to do.

Unfortunately, NK got there first.

He had hopped up quickly, even while Arnav was an inch off his seat, and swiftly relieved Khushi of the tray with a smile, which Khushi had gratefully returned, and Arnav had felt his heart drop another inch in disappointment.

It was easier, however, to focus on the crackling and spluttering of his rekindled annoyance, and he did just that.

'You wanted to fight with me?' Khushi repeated quietly, but he could hear her nonetheless, or maybe he could just make out the words folding about her lips. It did not matter, because this was the first time since he had stepped into their home today that Khushi had initiated a conversation. And if that was not bad enough, she was initiating a conversation with the one person Arnav had not been able to stand since the year's commencement.

His heart grew heavier, and sank another inch.

'Oh, yes,' NK retorted, frowning at her in mock anger and wagging a finger in admonishment, 'Fight with you. What you did was rude, Khushiji, and someone had to tell you off.'

'Rude?' echoed a bewildered Khushi, her eyes wide in confusion. Arnav loathed the way she was looking at NK - focusing on him solely, not even glancing around at the others in the room.

Not glancing around at him.

She had not even spoken to him once since they had arrived.

His heart was a dead-weight in his chest, but he ignored it. He tried to be angry at her, but he couldn't. Strangely enough, his vigilant brain was not protesting.

What the hell is happening?

'Yes, exactly. It was very rude how you actually came as far as our doorstep this morning, Khushiji, and had the nerve to leave before at least wishing us Happy New Year. You need to learn some manners, young lady.'

'Oh!' exclaimed Khushi, and then laughed softly, a little breathlessly, shaking her head in relief, 'That! I'm sorry Nanheji...but everyone else was waiting for me at the temple, and I had actually used up a lot of time taking the detour to drop by the-' And here she hesitated, wavered, and Arnav thought her eyes flickered towards him before she soldiered on, '-drop by the sweets.'

And the river toppled over one of the embankments and knocked it clean away, swallowing up the silt he had layered carefully on the experiences he had sought to erase from mind and memory altogether.

The recollections of how his ears had pricked up, alert and straining, when he had heard the doorbell trill that morning.

How he had had to force himself to continue reading the lines of blurring text on his laptop screen, smothering the itch to bound downstairs and into the hall to see if it was who he thought it was.

And then, the way the space behind his ribcage had begun to flutter restlessly, the walls of his stomach spasming in what he could only call excitement, as he had spied a tower of burnt orange confectionary proudly sitting in the middle of the breakfast table...

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

Only to be told that Khushi had departed from the front doors itself in a fit of hurry, stopping only long enough to thrust two boxes of sweets in Hari Prakash's hands and relaying her New Year's wishes before scurrying away.

Back then, just as Di had finished making her announcement and the table had erupted into a din of complaints and laments, Arnav had been swamped by the peculiar sensation that he had just charged through the finish line -

-only to look back and realise that he had been the only one racing.

A hollow victory. A pointless one.

If it could be called a victory at all.

It was then, standing at the head of the dining-table, long before the table had been completely set for breakfast and the family were yet to arrive in the dining-room, that those carefully compartmentalised thoughts of his had collapsed and intermingled and gushed off with the energy of a river jetting downhill.

She had brought the jalebis.

Like he had told her to.

She had brought them first thing in the morning.

Like he had told her to.

But she had not stayed...

...and it was then that he realised that that had been the purpose of his farewell words to her the night before.

He had been looking forward to seeing her in the morning.

Why? Why?

Because I wanted to prove something to her.

But what?

That if she turned up in my house...it would be because I told her to, not because of some foolish new year traditions...

But she had turned up at his house, and he had not seen her...

And I saw her face at midnight...

Didn't that prove him right? Didn't that prove that that pathetic tradition was utter crap?

Isn't that what I was trying to prove?

But then why had he felt as though he had just crossed the finish line...but had been the only one racing?

The river had been gathering force, and in some tiny corner of his brain he had known that he would not be able to stop it, but the idea of capitulating, of giving up, of admitting defeat was so foreign to him that it had almost been a relief when NK had frolicked up to the breakfast table with all his unnecessary exuberance and distracted him.

Anger was a reflex in him. Anger was something that could consume and drive out every last thought out of your head.

Anger was his reprieve - it helped him block out other emotions that threatened to undo everything he had become, to be invincible.

And somewhere along the line, between breakfast and deciding that he would join Akash to pick up the Guptas, he had concluded that if the whole midnight-shenanigan was so flawed...then there was no point thinking about it. He would delete it from his memory bank, because it changed nothing.

Khushi was still going to be Akash's sister-in-law. She would still be related to the family.

She would still be coming home today...and many other days in the future.

It's amazing sometimes, the kinds of things you could convince yourself when your conscience is mangled.

Buaji was saying something to him. It took him a little effort to return to the present, his senses returning slowly and lethargically, as though unwillingly waking up.

'...did not mean to make you take the trouble...'

'It was no trouble at all,' he assured her almost automatically. It took him a while to register the slightly awkward expression on Buaji's face.

'No, actually, you see...our trip to the mandir has left Shashi Babua tired and worn out...and he's fast asleep and we were thinking of letting him rest here, as over-exertion would not be good for his health...and then Khushi bitiya has not been feeling too well since this morning either, so we thought she could stay back today with her father, if that's not a problem...'

This time, it felt as though he had sprinting, hard, blood pumping into his legs as he was just a foot short of reaching the finish-line, triumph and victory just an arm's length away -

And then he'd been tripped and had crashed down on to the hard, coarse tarmac, hitting his joints, jarring his elbows and watching as his win was snatched away from him.

***

The announcement had barely been allowed to drop before NK had snatched his eyes away to assess Nannav's reaction.

But if he had been looking forward to gloating some more at his cousin's expense, he had another thing coming.

Because that look - that short-lived expression of...of...pain, of disappointment and chagrin, of...something that looked so human and broken...

He caught himself, as was so usual with him, as was characteristic of him, wiping his face clean of any betraying emotion, but it did not change the fact that NK had seen it...and it had struck deep within him, like a mallet hitting a gong, and metallic shockwaves were still reverberating through him, their aftermath leaving him astounded.

It only went on to prove that he had not been wrong.

Arnav Singh Raizada had fallen for none other than Khushi Kumari Gupta.

He wondered whether the man even realised it yet. Knowing how pig-headed he was though, it was likely that he did not have a clue.

But it was so obvious - had been so obvious since the day he had arrived. He had not missed the death-glares and the thickening tension and hostility rippling through the air every single time he himself had been too friendly with Khushiji - be it when they were introducing themselves, be it when he brought her as his date to the cocktail party, be it when they were practising dancing together only just the day before, or just laughing and joking around. It was a miracle that neither of them had noticed - noticed those undertows of electric attraction sparking and zapping as they sniped at each other, behind those heated stares and cutting words.

And it just went to show what a monumental idiot Arnav Singh Raizada was if he could not figure out why it bothered him so much if NK dropped Khushi home after a party and spent some time with her, if NK danced with her, NK brought her roses, NK spoke to her and made her laugh.

NK would not lie to himself - he was attracted to Khushiji. Her vibrancy and her liveliness and her spirit, her natural beauty and exuberance and compassion and her golden-heart...it was hard not to be attracted to her. He was not the self-sacrificing gentleman to just gracefully surrender in favour of his cousin. If there had been any indication at all that these blossoming, new-born feelings for Khushiji were mutual, he would have fought tooth and nail with Nannav (assuming the douchebag ever comprehended his own feelings) to woo her.

But he was neither blind nor delusional, and he had spotted what everyone else was too accustomed to, to question and decipher.

Khushi was probably the only one, apart from NK himself, to make Arnav lose his cool - to show emotion, to feel, to let go. And Arnav was the only one to make Khushi, so sure of herself and her feelings, stumble, pause, reconsider.

Those two were made for each other.

And anyway, NK was always in favour of anything to knock Nannav off his high-horse, before his ego got too big to fit in a room.

And maybe even...maybe even because Nannav deserved this, deserved love, more than himself, or even Akash and Payal or any of the other lovebirds out there.

***

It wasn't going to be easy...

...but no one knew how hard it would be.

***

'I'm going to get some water...'

He got up and strode briskly towards the kitchen door before anyone could stop him.

Just a few minutes ago, Khushi had disappeared in that direction and was yet to emerge.

His brain tried feebly to warn him that what he was doing was foolish, was reckless, but he paid it no mind.

For one, he did not know what he was about to do, and somehow that made it all right.

It was only his heart that felt alive, pulsating and warm and breathing - everything else just felt numb. Soaked and drowned out by the merciless surge of a river hurtling to meet the sea...

...to mingle and be at peace and rest.

But the sea could be stormy sometimes.

'Khushi?'

She looked up sharply at him, as though his approach had surprised her, which he supposed absently that it had. The last time he had been here had been because of the tea he had spilled over his sleeve - he still remembered how he had trouble trying to concentrate, trying to keep his focus from straying to her endearingly flustered actions as she dabbed at the stain, and the feel of her warmth and her skin through the fabric of his shirt, and maintain his indifference at the same time.

It occurred to him that he was already familiar with this place, her kitchen, the hub of her home. He was confident enough that neither Akash nor NK had set foot or even seen it before.

Some tiny little part of him was unduly pleased at this irrelevant detail.

'Ji?'

That was the first time she had spoken to him since he had arrived here. He was not surprised he had noticed.

She was very still, behind the kitchen counter, both hands folded together and hidden behind the semi-transparent fabric of her dupatta. He realised that he did not often see her in such pastel shades - it was always loud and vibrant, a step away from garish. It surprised him a little that such light, calm colours befitted her so well.

This pale pink, for instance...it brought out the natural cream of her skin, several shades lighter than the hue of her clothes, and something about the combination made his heartbeats stutter and forget their rhythm.

But he did not dwell too much on that. Buaji's words still rang in his ears, and it was that compulsion that forced him to look beyond her windswept hair or her falling dupatta or her depthless brown eyes or dewy parted lips. To the bags under her eyes. To the slight bent of her shoulders. To the ashen edge of the normally bright shades of red to adorn her features.

'Khushi bitiya has not been feeling too well since this morning...'

It was a while before he realised that what he was feeling for her was concern, and a while longer for him to realise that it did not bother him.

He had felt concern for her before. After that guest-house incident. After her father's heartattack. When she had been helping Lavanya fix the fuse and the candle had almost slipped out of her grip. When he had heard how much her mother's anklets meant to her.

And it was acceptable for him to feel concern for her, because her sister was marrying his brother, and she was going to be part of his family.

One of his own.

It calmed and excited him at once.

'Khushi...you can call me when your Bauji wakes up, and you feel well enough to come to Shantivan. I'll pick you up - I don't mind.'

Khushi looked at him strangely then, cocking her head a little to one side. He could not place the look in her eye, or the reason behind the grooves of a frown across her forehead, but he instinctively knew he did not like it.

Almost as though intending to smooth them out, he had moved forward.

It seemed to jolt Khushi out her reverie.

'Thank you,' she muttered in subdued tones, and it irked him that she did not meet his eyes as she spoke to him, 'But I- I don't think that is necessary.'

She made to move, and he just knew she was about to duck out of the kitchen out of his grasp.

Unexpectedly, without warning, without reason, without his bidding, his anger flared again.

She had no problems talking to NK, sitting with him, laughing with him, prancing around with him...accepting roses from him...And she had only known him for a few days - days he could count off on his fingers, whereas they had known each other for so much longer...

It was mindless anger, the type that could explode anywhere, at any time, aimed at nothing but could destroy everything, and no matter how much he tried, it would not extinguish.

But anger was a reflex in him. Anger was something that could consume and drive out every last thought out of your head.

Anger was his reprieve - it helped him block out other emotions that threatened to undo everything he had become, to be invincible.

Emotions like insecurity and vulnerability. Emotions which made him say things he did not mean but which he used to lash out anyway-

-because somewhere beneath it all he was afraid of being hurt first.

'I am telling you that I can come by and pick you up whenever you are ready to come, Khushi.'

She stood there, a hand lightly braced on the counter-top, but she still did not look at him. It poured gasoline into the flames licking and charring his rationality.

'I am thankful, Arnavji, but I really can manage.'

The impertinence, the gall to refuse him when he was going out of his way to do something for her-

'When I tell you not to come you turn up without another thought, and when I'm actually here inviting you along, you're trying to give me a cold-shoulder?'

A silence followed as his tirade choked to a stop - a ghastly silence, and his own words echoed off the walls and bounded towards him, gutting him as he heard his own vindictive accusation.

And once more, again, he had said something he regretted but could not take back.

When Khushi started speaking, her voice was clear and even, and rang oddly in the beastly quiet which had preceded it.

'I only came to the cocktail party for my Jiji, Arnavji. She is not used to these kinds of things, and she knew she was going to be uncomfortable and awkward in that setting, with all those strangers. But I can't follow her forever. And besides...she is going to her sasural. Everyone there will be family to her. She does not need me to shadow her there.'

Her words hit him like physical blows, and wrenched out his regret until it almost crippled him.

But that had happened before, and back then he had not been able to overcome his deep-seated aversion to admitting his mistake, to opening himself up a bit by apologising, at least at once.

But this time, there was a queer hollow ring to Khushi's toneless words, and they were coloured by a shadow of some pressing doom, and Arnav found his tongue rough and heavy with the need to say something.

And in his frustration, his hand shot upwards to run agitatedly through his hair-

-and Khushi jumped backwards with a gasp.

They both froze.

Staring at each other.

Not breathing.

And Arnav recognised that look he hadn't liked in her eyes. In the furrow on her brow. In the pallor of her skin.

Distrust. Doubt.

Fear.

She thought...I was going to hurt her?

The answer was in her eyes.

And it cruelly reminded him of all those occasions he had felt concern for her again - but with the bitter details he had tried to omit.

Because he had been the one to send her to the guesthouse before it crumbled. He had been the one who had abandoned her on the streets just before she had learnt of her father's heart-attack.

He had been the one to tell her he didn't care if she existed.

And on Diwali, he had been the one who-

The anklets he had once hoarded in his possession jingled, and then Khushi was gone.

And the river frothed and foamed and crashed and broke down the last of his resistance and those inky tears melted into paper dripped all over his conscience and drowned him.

...I just CAN'T take it anymore. I can't stand it. I can't stand being hurt by him again and again. I give up. I don't want to fight him anymore. I am tired. I don't even know what we are fighting about now...

And devastation overcame him and dragged him under.

Um...hope this was ok...

Kind of a crucial chapter so I would be really grateful if you could leave your thoughts/feedback! Your comments mean the world to me :)

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

awesome update!!!👏
arnav is one confused soul i guess...!!! he really needs to get a grip...!!!
how u described his emotions were very apt... he needs some one to shake him real hard..make him understand his emotions rather than keep hurting khushi...
loved ur NK, looks like he is the only one with open eyes...and maybe payal too 😊
i wonder what turn of events are gonna come up now,,,

and thank you sooo much for the double update😳

Originally posted by: avantika_2012

Evil is here! :P

wow what a story. thank you.