Arhi SS|New Year's Resolutions|LastPart- B&C p130 *complete!* - Page 44

Brilliant! Love the emotions you portray here!

yes anger is his reprieve but I hope he finds a way around it. he needs to be more rational. I like the developments of nk's character

nice one! Arnav, the oblivious or Arnav, the pigheaded fool! how I'd love to see NK kick his ass to make him see the obvious!!! I really like how you are developing NK as well as Payal's character..really gives more depth to the whole thing! thank you for writing such awesome things for all of us!😃

love this story. thank you.

oh i cried reading this cptr!

Sweetheart I loved it...The explanation of what we see on Arnav's face, and how NK knows Arnav's feelings.

A/n : Please take note of the date and time headings over the subsections - the story skips back and forth through time :)

Below quote is one of my absolute favourites and one line that made me adore Mr. Darcy. I think it fits well with the chapter below, so am using it here.

Also, I think I ought to warn that I haven't read over this and have been writing it with a cold that refuses to go away (which is what happens when a person stupidly walks in the rain and then does not dry her hair AKA- me) so if you find anything you think needs changing, let me know :)

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." - from the novel Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen

***

Part 7 I

4^th January 2012, 3.12 p.m.

The anxious gnawing at his brain reached its limit, and Arnav kicked at the leg of the coffee-table obstructing his way before stalking towards the sliding-doors, and violently jerked the curtains shut.

And though they shielded from his stinging, parch-dry eyes the array of potted plants lining a wall and the jaded surfaces of tiles catching glimmers of light bouncing off the pool, they did nothing to shut out the noise.

The whisper of rain continued to hiss all around him, slightly muffled by the drapes but still there. Drumming against the glass, splattering against the floor, rippling into the water outside.

The rain was everywhere. There was nowhere he could go to escape it.

It besieged him in his room and assaulted him with memories.

A sharp rap at the door jostled his thoughts, and Arnav shook himself a little, dragging his fingers through his hair and tugging a little at the roots, as though the pain would help nullify the stabbing twinges of his migraine.

'I'm busy,' he croaked, a little loudly to be heard on the other side of the door. He winced at the roughness of his own voice, and as he hauled his feet back to the recliner he had been slumped in, occupying empty minutes trying to tune out the downpour, he wondered briefly if he ought to have let whoever it was come in.

A distraction, however brief, however unwelcome, was still that. A distraction.

An escape.

It was not until the soft click of the door fitting back into its frame reached him that Arnav realised his visitor had not taken the hint.

And while on any other day, such an act of impudence would instantly have ignited his temper and charred to embers his limited patience, today he merely lifted his heavy lids from their rest against the heels of his palms, blearily blinking to bring his bedroom, and the intruder, into focus.

His body and brain refused to compose a response, even after recognising the man standing before his door, frowning comically at him, arms folded across his chest, legs akimbo.

'Not now NK,' he muttered wearily, resenting how the cool, frosty tenor he had perfected sounded so gruff and cracked, rusty from disuse. Reaching for the stack of folders that had been perched, untouched, on the coffee-table since that morning, he picked one up, hoping the pretence of preoccupation would be solid enough to drive him away, 'I'm not in the mood.'

But NK was NK, and his brain had not labelled him 'the pain in the neck' without a reason.

'I know. That's why I'm here.'

His eyebrows flickered upward in disbelief and his jaw slackened, but before he could overcome that first sweep of shock and incomprehension, NK had strolled his way further into his room -his room, his private sanctuary in the whole house, his domain where no one except his sister was allowed to enter without explicit approval, and that too had its exceptions - and dropped himself heavily down on to the recliner, beside him.

There was a brief spark of irritation, and Arnav lunged for it, eager for anything except this- but it was half-hearted and fizzed out on its own.

Leaving behind acute awareness of that crippling, sharp sting in his chest, like a blade had been thrust through his heart and now remained, lodged there, slicing through flesh and bone.

And so he remained sitting there, staring blankly at the glossy, brick red surface of the folder lying on his lap, his mind too crowded with consuming thoughts, scavenging off his sanity, to pay heed to a person who had never failed to rile him up to the edges of his tolerance before.

'Aw, come on, Nannav!' And Arnav searched within himself, looking for some signs of the inflamed annoyance, some residue of the ire that had always curdled in his blood at the ludicrous nickname NK insisted on using for him, at the nail-on-chalkboard stridence of that whine. 'You haven't sent me a death-glare for almost three days now! I'm feeling unloved!'

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. The man had the nerve to encroach into his personal territory, off-limits to the world unless he chose otherwise, and was now mocking him in his face, but Arnav could not even muster a match-flame of anger.

And only three days ago, he'd had trouble refraining from committing homicide.

'I know you're a hermit, but even hermits are more sociable than you've been over these past few days...'

But at least it was drowning out the rain...at least it was giving him some reprieve, however scant and short-lived, from those images flashing behind his eyes and scarring into his retinas-

'...you've been ignoring everyone -'

Of a stream of golden headlights...of bodies colliding...of pliant, fragile softness folded into his arms and lifted out of harm's way...and then droplets speckled across milky skin, shivering lashes and lips, and bottomless pools of warming coffee...

'-seen how sad and wilted they look? Now could you be so negligent, Nannav? Ignoring fellow human beings, I understand but ignoring your plants?'

Plants...

"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!"

Flashing copper-brown eyes luminescent in the dark...lower lip puckered in a frown that resembled a pout... dusky pink patches melting into cream...

He exhaled a low, shuddering sigh he was not aware of, and abruptly the effort of sucking in each mouthful of air was about as difficult as breathing underwater, and the very thoughts that the rain had been trying to hammer into his head had drilled through to the spotlight of his mind.

His plants...

The blade in his chest was wrenched out and plunged straight in again, and the pain exploded behind his eyes, within his skull, beneath his skin - in his heart.

He had not gone anywhere near them for more than three days.

In fact, he had not been able to bring himself to set foot into the poolside, his haven, his favourite haunt in his own home, since he had trudged home late in the evening of New Year's Day, returning his sister's mild admonishments and exclamations of concern with curt monosyllables, before holing himself up into his bedroom.

1^st January, 6.53 p.m

His steps were leaden, his gait drunken, his head about splitting open with the piercing insistency of pain.

'Chote! Where have you been? Why have you not been answering my calls? Aisa koi karta hai kya?!'

Di's voice sounded unusually high, unusually shrill, rebounding and echoing deafeningly within his head, mingling with the clamours of his mind to kick up a racket pushing pressure into the cracks of his crumbling stability.

'Sorry, Di.'

'What do you mean, 'Sorry'? First you volunteer to go with Akash to pick up the Guptas, and then you disappear without trace? Akash was saying you actually left before everyone else, and I even called up your office but they said you weren't there...'

His office...his cabin...the glass windows...

Himself, poised at the ledge of that perilous gap, staring coldly, dispassionately, at the hand he had gripped...

...of the girl suspended by her arm, hanging off the edge like a limp, rag doll...

The terror alight in those wide, plaintive eyes, the panic, the blood rushing to colour her face as he felt her tremble in his hold, her palm moistening as he watched her visibly struggle to breathe -

-and then he'd let go.

And then a powerful, debilitating surge of agony had juddered through him and rattled his bones, and he almost gagged on the bile coagulating in his throat, blocking his airway, choking him. He could distantly make out his sister's voice exclaim in concern, but it barely made a dent in the trauma overcoming his entire being as he stood there, paralysed - his eyes refusing the reflex to blink, to dispel the lurid images of the ghostly white that had bleached her face of its glow, of the horror-rounded eyes that had stared at him in shock and helplessness as they plummeted away from him...

"I know that there were times I deserved his anger but...but some of the things he has said, some of the things he has done...no matter how much I want to pretend I don't care, I do! No matter how much I try not to think about them, I can't help myself! No matter how much I ignore it, it still hurts. I wish I knew why he despises me so much..."

Each word was no more a creation of ink and paper, but a wound carved straight into his flesh, and the agony of it almost made him keel over. The lethargy that had crawled into his muscles and dug into his brain grew heavier, suffocating thought, suffocating understanding, and the last thing he could remember through the fog swamping him had been the floor swimming up before his eyes, rising towards him -

-and then he was seated in the living-room, his back pressed into several fluffed-up cushions propped behind him, his jaw mechanically opening and closing, more from habit than from any conscious desire to act. Not remembering how he got there, not caring either.

Di popped another morsel of food into his mouth, and he churned it about, deducing nothing of its taste and texture, staring blankly at the clear worry discernible in the features of his older sister.

'...can't believe...didn't even eat...don't care at all...falling blood sugar...even the medicine...could you be so careless...worried sick...'

'Sorry.'

'Enough with the 'Sorry's!' she sharply scolded him, but as clarity injected itself and dissipated the muggy haze seeping through his mind, he could see the anxiety glinting beneath her bluster, standing tears glittering in her narrowed eyes, the grooves of her face filled more with worry than anger, 'What would have happened if I hadn't been waiting for you by the hall? NK Bhai and Akash both left to drop the Guptas back home, Mamaji has gone out too, Nani and Mami are in their rooms...what would have happened if you had a black-out and there was no one around to help you?!'

No one around to help you...

In that moment, Arnav found himself enmeshed once more in a conflict of emotions where he did know which feeling to prioritise and which to delegate to the backseat - and wound up sitting numbly, letting each take its dizzying bid for dominance. A part of him was grateful that he had not stumbled home in this state, repulsed by the spectacle he would have made before their guests; another part, though, regretted that he had returned just when he had, just when Di had been pacing the front hall, no doubt at her wits' end in worry.

He could only imagine, from the pitch and magnitude of her hysteria, what a sight he must have made.

But in the end neither emotion won out. In the end, every other feeling tapered out, until the one phrase Di had uttered in a mixture of indignation and anxiety and relief was all that remained...

No one around to help you...

And those possessively concerned words took a spin of their own in his warped mind-frame, and became entirely different...entirely too sinister.

They associated themselves with the one other time he could recall being alone at home, recognising the unsteady shifting of the world before his eyes, the sluggish slowing-down of his movements and his thoughts as every part of him grew heavy...the time he had barely managed to stagger to the kitchen and appeal for help -

-to Khushi.

"I have always, always gotten in his way, always sticking my nose in his business...

And so, I am going to avoid him. I will no longer get in his way, I will no longer challenge his claims, no longer pick fights.

Besides- he's already made clear that he doesn't want to foul up his new year by seeing my face anyway."

And Arnav understood what was meant by that word so frivolously used -

Heartbreak.

4^th January, 2012, 3.27 p.m.

And in the next few days he had understood something else too.

She was everywhere.

She was in the studios of AR, her large, wide eyes, slightly intimidated, slightly timid, made smoky and mysterious by coal-black kohl, and yet retaining their innocence...the porcelain of her skin accentuated breathtakingly by the dark curtain of hair fanning behind her, by the luscious scarlet of her saree...

She was in his office, the tiny little drop of her nose-pin catching the artificial light as she stood before his desk, stance defiant, arms folded below her chest, meeting his gaze without flinching...

And she was right there, outside his room, by the pool...gazing up at the indigo-satin of the heavens, bedecked with fistfuls of stars, or disconsolately trying to rub the sand out of her eyes, or entangled within strings of fairy lights, adorably flustered and helpless, or sitting upon one of the deckchairs, breathless, confused and intrigued as those iridescent gems for eyes questioned him, bent at her feet, stalling the erratic tempo his heart fell into at the touch of her velvet skin as he wound her anklet back where it belonged.

She was everywhere...and yet nowhere at all.

She was there in his morning coffee, and there in his glass of orange juice. She was there every time his phone rang, and there on the passenger's seat next to him, and inside his closet amongst his clothes.

And she was there, in every raindrop, drenching his world in her essence.

She was there in his every thought.

And he tried to resent her for it. He tried to resent her for coming into his life, tried to resent her for resisting all his attempts to drive her out, chase her away...tried to resent her for doing exactly what he always feared would happen if he let her come too close...making a place for herself, making herself indispensable...and just when he had been getting used to it, just when he had started to accept it...she left.

But he couldn't resent it. Couldn't resent the fact that she resided in each of his thoughts...

They were the only place he could still have her.

Because he knew now that he needed her.

But by the time he had realised it, it was too late.

The damage was already done.

***

Payal caught sight of a flurry of colour at the edge of her vision and glanced up, only to find a very distraught-looking Khushi charging into the kitchen.

Instantly pushing aside the platter of lentils she had been picking at, she herself rounded the counter in a heartbeat, concern overtaking even her awareness of her actions as she halted before Khushi, grabbing her shoulders before demanding in panic, 'Khushi! Kya huwa tujhe!'

Khushi peered forlornly back at her and Payal's heart skipped a beat. Her nerves had been on edge ever since she had witnessed the bizarre scene played out in their living-room those few days ago...the unlikeliest of emotions stealing over the unlikeliest of people. It had raised incalculable questions in her head, some disturbing, some unanswerable, some obscure but all worrying. Her unwillingness had made her think and rethink her agreement of leaving Khushi with Bauji that afternoon, and she had been tempted dangerously to staying back with her, even though it would raise obvious questions when it was her sasuraal they were to visit, and even more so to cancel the whole thing altogether.

She might have seen through some of these spur-of-the-moment solutions, too, had Khushi not practically hustled her out of the house and into Akashji's car, teasing her endlessly with flamboyant winks and too-loud whispers as she steered her into the passenger's seat next to him.

This time though, she had not been convinced by the bubbly spirits of her younger sister.

She had not failed to notice, for instance, that Arnavji had risen to fetch himself a glass of water only after Khushi had retreated to the kitchen.

Or that Khushi had scrambled out, in a frantic rush, moments later.

Or that shortly afterwards, Arnavji, his face a recondite mask, had tersely bid his farewells before stalking out of their house and driving his monster of a vehicle away.

And it was only then that Khushi had perked up.

'Khushi!' Payal exclaimed in alarm, realising with a violent start that she was holding her breath, her face growing steadily redder, 'What are you doing?!'

And as her insides clenched tightly in apprehension, Khushi gulped down heavily, gasped out a huge, huff of breath - and then hiccupped.

'NO!' she shrieked in consternation, her features contorting to one of acute dismay, throwing her hands up into the air in expressive frustration, 'I thought they were - hic -gone!'

Payal gaped at Khushi for a while, while the latter sulked, crossed her arms, tapped her foot - her actions punctuated all the while by an occasional, petulant 'hic.'

Finally locating her voice, Payal slowly shook her head from side to side in as she mouthed, 'Hiccups? You were making all that fuss because of hiccups?'

Khushi pouted at her then, looking positively dejected.

'Ye - hic - es! They won't - hic - go away! I've been trying for ho -hic - o - ours! Hours! Hic.'

A fond smile crept up Payal's mouth as she watched Khushi rant, a small frown tucked beneath her brows as each hiccup shook her from head to toe, occasionally even making her jump a little on the spot. But Khushi Kumari Gupta was not to be deterred by a case of the hiccups, and she doggedly continued nonetheless.

'I've tried - hic - everything! I've drunk so - so - HIC - much water, I feel like a pani ki - hic -tanki...and I tried - hic - bending double but that only - hic - made me - hic - feel worse...and then - '

'You tried holding your breath,' Payal supplied, amused as Khushi mutely but energetically nodded.

'I think I should - hic - go and shout - hic - Hai Re - HIC - NANDEKISHORE - in Buaji's - hic -ear. I bet - when she - hic - chases me with a - hic - a - a - rolling - hic - pin, it'll scare away the hic-cups!'

Payal laughed then, no longer able to hold in her humour, and laughed even harder as she caught the slightly affronted look on Khushi's face. Drawing the jug towards her, she poured her another glass of water, pressing it into her hands.

As Khushi lifted the glass to her mouth, wrinkling her nose as though being force-fed the vilest of concoctions, and a little of the liquid dribbled out of the corner of her lips, Payal automatically moved forward to dab at it with the edge of her pallu, her thoughts travelling in reverse over the span of the last few days.

Ever since New Year's Day, she had vigilantly, unrelentingly observed Khushi, watching her at all possible times, keeping close to her, trying to find a crack in the normalcy she had receded to by the time they had returned from Shantivan.

She had found none.

Either Khushi had grown very adept at keeping her guard up...or there was nothing untoward to find in the first place.

But whenever the thought came to mind that perhaps, on that day, Khushi really had just been exhausted - her intuition resolutely shook its head and banged its fist, making her reminiscence the other incongruities she had picked up that day.

Such as that look on Arnavji's face.

Such as his absence when they had arrived at Shantivan.

Such as his absence from Shantivan every single day since.

Khushi had been perfectly normal, her usual cheerful self, throwing herself into the rehearsals wholeheartedly over the past two days that she had accompanied herself and Buaji to Shantivan. And each time, Payal could not help but notice that Arnavji, unlike that first time, when Khushi had so daringly provoked him and he had snagged her up almost aggressively in retort...was nowhere to be seen.

She tried not to jump to conclusions, tried to keep her leaping opinions leashed. She had learnt by experience that it was by no means easy to categorise Arnav Singh Raizada. From their first meeting, after a day fraught with breathless tension and nerve-wracking anxiety, only to find Khushi collapsed and senseless and carried in by the same man her sister did not have enough bitter words to criticise with - since then, Payal had easily labelled him as everything Khushi claimed him to be - a rakshas, a heartless monster, a cold, emotionless man.

And then he had chipped at her prejudices, little by little, but steadily enough, altering her unflattering assessment of his character. He had helped them when they had been in dire straits, paying the hospital fees for their father. And gradually, as Khushi softened a little towards him, her jibes at him growing less vindictive and more amusing, she had probably done likewise.

But what had completely upset the last of Payal's doubts had been the candid, sincere way he had sought her out personally and apologised to her. Apologised to her for being the cause of her first broken rishta, even though the part he had to play had been indirect.

It proved to her, unlike anything else could, that if the man could bring himself to lower his eyes and seek atonement for something that might have happened anyway, something that he only lent momentum to, and accept the blame - then that man was one with a conscience.

A good man.

And perhaps it had been that look of longing so clearly sketched before her mind's eye, but Payal was certain that whatever it was that might or might not have happened - he was not going to hurt Khushi.

Not anymore.

Her internal musings were then cut short by a particularly loud and vehement 'HIC!'

I still have to find out if there's anything in that though...

'Lagta hai,' she very calmly observed, drawing back the plate of lentils towards her, 'ke tujhe koi badi zorr se yadh kar raha hai.'

'Nahi, woh hume kyun yadh-'

Payal looked up, startled, just in time to watch Khushi's face glow scarlet, the flush reaching all the way from her collar-bones to her hairline.

'Who are you talking about, Khushi?'

'No one, Jiji, no one.' Khushi quickly snatched up another metal platter, grabbing the tin of rice and emptying some of its contents before she too bent over the task of picking out inedible grains.

At least five minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

'Khushi...'

'Hmm?'

'Your hiccups have stopped.'

***

'Arnav.'

The man started, head jerking sharply to the side, blinking once, twice in confusion before they narrowed, and his mouth opened in what might be surprise.

At least that got a reaction out of him.

NK grimly decided that his decision to forgo his favourite nickname for his favourite Scrooge had been a good one.

If he wanted to be taken seriously, he had to show his cousin he was being serious first.

Many, many minutes had passed since the two of them had relapsed into silence, Nannav soon not even bothering to grunt in response to the stream of provocations NK had recited one after the other. And NK had not bothered to break that silence - because he could recognise that Nannav was not ignoring him.

It was almost as though he had forgotten NK was there.

And instead of upping the ante and trying to bait him further, NK had seized that opportunity simply to study his cousin intently.

Since his abrupt exit from the Guptas' house on the first of January, NK had only caught momentary and fleeting glimpses of Nannav. But what those fleeting glimpses had merely suggested, his closer scrutiny confirmed.

Something was wrong.

The Nannav he knew would not even face the mirror with a hair out of place. And yet, here he was, his hair devoid of gel, sticking in random directions as though he had repeatedly been pulling at it, stubble unshaved and close to unkempt, and deep, bruise-like purple dents beneath his eyes...eyes where thin, nearly invisible lines of red cracked the whites.

He'd not been sleeping.

'Arnav,' NK began again, cautiously, and he held the other's suspicious gaze, trying to project his own sincerity, willing him to listen, 'I know that you don't - well, you don't consider me the closest of your friends but - I can tell you have been disturbed for the past few days. If you need to talk - I'd be happy to help if I can.'

He stopped, letting his words sink in, and watched as Nannav shifted a little in his seat, straightening before fixing him with what could be a searching look. It was probing, analytical - and for a moment NK was hopeful that perhaps this uncharacteristic display of gravity had been enough to shake him out of it.

But then his face had turned stony and he had bowed his head back over the folder lying on his lap, and flicked it open.

NK almost cursed aloud.

But he was not going to give up. The family was already anxious - Akash had already received calls from work confirming that Nannav had taken to using his younger brother's cabin, sending others to his own for anything he needed, and Di had been fretting that his eating patterns were dwindling, that he had taken to eating within his room, more often than not returning trays that were barely touched. Both were puzzled, both concerned, but Nannav had warned them clearly away.

He was busy. He was not to be disturbed.

But NK was not about to take any of that.

Because he had seen Nannav - witnessed the change happen.

One minute he had been gloating and congratulating himself as the great ASR had followed Khushiji into the kitchen without a backward glance...

...and next minute an almost feverish Khushiji had darted back out, muttered something about her Bauji, and hurried towards what he assumed was his parent's bedroom.

And then he had jumped to his feet too, under the excuse of checking where Nannav had gotten to.

And for the first time, NK's feelings of self-righteous glee had given way to something else. To disquiet. To alarm.

Because he had spotted Nannav through the open kitchen doors, standing beside the counter -

And had seen nothing but defeat - defeat and anguish - in his stance. In the slump of his spine, in the limpness of his arms...and especially in that look on his face.

As though he'd lost something dear to him. Forever.

It had been so unexpected, so striking an image, that it had caught him off-guard and he had returned to his seat without another word, only watching silently as a few moments later Nannav returned, crisply made his excuses and left.

Since then, his behaviour, though worrisome, had not struck anyone else as odd. He was, occasionally, given to these bouts of foul temper, or of reclusion when he just wanted to be left alone. The only thing keeping Di off the verge of paranoia was the fact that he had often acted like this before, when something important had come along at work, or when something was not going along the lines he wanted it to. Interfering would only make it worse.

And perhaps NK would have thought the same, had he not seen the naked despair that he had succumbed to, when he had thought no one was looking.

He didn't know what had happened in that kitchen between Khushiji and Nannav, or maybe even what had happened at midnight on New Year's Eve, but the extent to which it had affected the both of them only went to prove that their feelings were not superficial. Not to be taken lightly.

And he would help them figure that out whether they liked it or not.

Because whatever else he might be prone to ridicule in Arnav, he had always respected him for steadfastness. For the way he supported his family, protected them fiercely, his loyalties immutable and unwavering.

Khushiji deserved someone like that. And Nannav deserved Khushiji more than anyone else in the world.

And so he plunged deeper into the lion's den.

'Is it something to do with work?'

No answer.

'Is it...is there someone you are upset with?'

No answer.

'Is there someone upset with you?'

***

There was something dangerously disarming about NK when he was being serious. It might have been that which made him say it. Or it might have been the desperation that had been eating away at him.

Whatever it was, he had not been able to stop himself.

'No...' he could sense NK's head tilt towards him in surprise, as though he had not expected him to answer. He closed his eyes tightly, wrapped a hand over them. What the heck? NK had already seen himself at his lowest - seen him at the depths of the misery he was trying to hide from all prying eyes.

He could not even bring himself to care anymore.

And compared to that excruciating pain searing through his heart every second he breathed, this was nothing.

'No,' he mumbled again, more to himself than to NK now, as though saying it aloud would alleviate some of the agony, 'It's that they're not upset with me.'

"...no wonder Arnavji gets so mad at me... I have always, always gotten in his way, always sticking my nose in his business...He likes order and calm and quiet and minding his own business, and I always do the exact opposite..."

"...whenever I get in Arnavji's way, something always goes wrong. I always end up meddling with his affairs and make him angry... And I can't afford to make him angry now. He is Jiji's brother-in-law, a member of her new family, and I should show him that respect."

"Maybe I should apologise..."

"No wonder he hates me..."

She was so wrong, so blasphemously, absurdly wrong, that he wanted to hunt her down, pin her to a wall, and shout some sense to her. Wanted to make her understand the fact that she had done nothing, not one single thing, to apologise for.

Whereas it would take him a lifetime to repent for what he had done to her.

But what hurt even more than the guilt and more than the regret was the fact that she wasn't even giving him a chance to do that. Every letter of that diary was soaked in the hurt that she had spilled in it, hurt so potent and so frightening he had tried to do the only thing his survival instincts could to cope - he had tried to deny it, reject it. Pretend that he had never seen it, that life would go on as before.

Had gone as far as making sure they saw each other at midnight, turning to the same fabled myth he had spent so much time and energy scoffing at in an attempt to preserve his crumbling world.

Because the alternative was so much worse.

Because all that hurt, caused by him, meted out by him, was parcelled and stored away within herself, and she had given him nothing - no blame, no accusation, no anger, no hatred - nothing that he could act on to right his wrongs.

She had just - removed herself away from him.

And he could do nothing about it.

'So what's the problem? You know what to do.'

Arnav found himself shaking his head, not even bothered by the fact that he was revealing, if only in part, the sorrow that had been tormenting him to none other than 'the pain in the neck.' Something about someone being there, just to hear it when the person meant to could not, made him feel just a bit better, and he had borne the ordeal long enough on his own not to care as long as he found some outlet.

'Apologising won't help -'

'I'm not asking you to apologise.'

Arnav got a crick in his neck as he whipped his head about to look at him, a measure of his usual suspicion returning, half-expecting NK to go back to his oafish ways -

'Anyone can apologise, even when they don't mean it. No, I meant you should make up for it.'

'Make up for it?'

'Yup. Try and do something which will make this someone no longer upset with you.'

And caught in the moment, caught in this thin light of possibility, the light that he had seen nowhere for nights on end, Arnav did not think to resist.

'How?'

NK shrugged, but Arnav could still tell that he was being perfectly honest. Gone were the childishness and the flippancy, and in their place sat an earnest young man whom Arnav had never seen before. Or perhaps not taken the time to look.

He had made that mistake before.

'That depends. But you'll figure it out, if you really want to make up to them. If-'

'If-?'

'If they matter to you.'

Comments pleeease? Let me know what you think!

And future chapters will also refer to snippets from Khushi's diary:)

Also, choti si request? Please don't res, unless you're confident you'll unres later :)

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Hooray you updated, thank you so much! Can't wait to see what happens...though I kinda hoped NK would make him jealous, I'm intrigued to find out what Arnav will do next!