Arhi SS|New Year's Resolutions|LastPart- B&C p130 *complete!* - Page 68

My next update will definitely be for Mohabat Door Jaane Na De...I've been focusing more on NYR because of the fact that 2014 is just round the corner. But I miss writing MDJND and all the comments asking if I've abandoned that story make me feel incredibly guilty, so I will try my best to have an update for that up as soon as I can :) I'm so sorry for the wait!!

NOTE: Please take note of the times and dates on the subheadings of this chapter, as the story skips back and forth through time. For instance, in this chapter, some parts happen in the morning, the others in the afternoon. So heads up!

I know the writing style might be confusing- but I've read so many wonderful books which use this kind of time-warp style that I was inspired to try it myself (fail!). Still working on it :s

*Part 10*

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you."- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

6^th January, 2012, 10.02 a.m. (morning)

She was still chopping vegetables, but there was a marked difference between her movements then and now.

Why? Why? Why? Why? The questions punctuated the rhythmic (bordering on violent) taps of her knife's edge against the chopping board as she cleared an entire basket of vegetables with the ruthless efficiency that professional chefs would envy her for. All the while, a corner of her lip remained lodged within the confines of her teeth, as though she were physically restraining the multitude of "Why's" building behind her teeth.

"Khushi..." Payal winced a little as Khushi rather aggressively beheaded another carrot, peering at her sister with mingling concern and disquiet.

She could not keep it in anymore.

"WHY?" It exploded out of her, a decapitated carrot rolling out of her grip and onto the counter as she nudged the chopping board aside, struggling to channel the excess of her aggravation, "I don't understand why Amma sent us away-"

"The elders are talking-" Payal attempted to explain, to coax, to tame down some of the crackling tension sparking like a severed electric wire off her sister; but Khushi would not be appeased.

"It's not fair!" she whined, slamming the knife (gripping the handle, thank Devi Maiyya) down on the counter and causing a few pots and pans to clatter in protest. Payal threw a nervous glance at the closed door, separating them from the discussion unfolding just metres away, but Khushi paid no mind, grousing, "It's our right to be there! Our right to know!"

Payal made edgy motions with her hands, as though she were trying to physically tamp down Khushi's rapidly escalating agitation; she tottered closer to the counter where Khushi fumed (not so silently) and jested, in an attempt to take the edge out of the atmosphere, "Since when did you become a human rights activist, Khushi?"

Khushi was not amused. She fixed a disbelieving stare at Jiji, which appeared to be the limit of her current capability of keeping still, and took to marching round the counter instead to meet her sister, demanding, "How can you be so calm, Jiji? Your wedding depends on what they're talking about out there and-"

She had been barrelling ahead so forcefully with her diatribe that it took her a second to register the natural glow of her sister's face dim a little, and a second more to cut herself off.

Remorse pooled over the irascible prickling spurring her restlessness on, and it was like the sharp sting of antiseptic on fresh wounds. Pain to counter pain.

"Jiji," she mumbled, quieter now, clasping both her sister's shoulders firmly and letting the guilt of her mindless words take over, "I'm sorry- I shouldn't have said it like that...of course you're worried too and-"

Jiji shook her head with a smile that was deceptively calm, deceptively clement- but Khushi, in the silence prevailing after the clanging of her own distress had run out, could sense the taut undertone of tension emanating from her too. Subtle, and not entirely conspicuous, unless you were looking for it.

"I should be saying sorry to you," Payal murmured, her smile flickering as fragilely as a light-bulb nearing the end of its tether- valiantly drawing the last of its strength to remain aglow. Khushi's mouth stretched open in loud rejoinder, but Payal beat her there, "I should have told you about it...it's just that-" Payal relapsed into a pause as she appeared to struggle with her reasons. With a resigned sigh, she let the hands she'd steadied against Khushi's elbows fall, and for a moment the shadow of defeat, of fatigue, darkened her features and Khushi's heart.

"It's just that..." Payal resumed, quieter now, her monotone disguising the apprehension, the dread, that Khushi was certain were synonymous to her own, "Things are...difficult...as they are, already...I just wanted to make sure that...there would be no misunderstandings in the future. It's better these things come out now than later on, when it might...hurt people more..."

She trailed off, and a frown tucked itself beneath her brows, another turning down her mouth, and the backs of Khushi's teeth ached with the need to do something, anything to lift that miserable, forlorn expression off her sister's face, and resenting her helplessness. Try as she might, there was no getting round the fact that Jiji was right- Mamiji had exhibited, time and time again, that she would not shirk from using any opportunity to lash out at Jiji, use any means for enacting her petty vengeance for (in her own opinion, anyway) ensnaring her son and entangling him in an unfavourable marriage alliance. That last afternoon at Shantivan was only fresh proof of that...if she had found out later, after Jiji was married, that she had almost been married once before...

Khushi had never been prone to assume the worst in people, but she had frequented the Raizadas and their personalities long enough, and intimately enough, to believe without a doubt that the ramifications would have been brutal.

And they would have rested entirely on her sister's head.

"I wonder," she found herself saying shakily, as though voicing these thoughts in the privacy of her head was too daunting for her alone, "I wonder...what they're talking about?"

Jiji met her eyes grimly, the minute shake of her head and the graveness sketched into her expression evidence that she was pondering the same.

Khushi grit her teeth again, feeling the urge to fidget crawl beneath her skin too, restless with the need to know. Just beyond that door, their parents, their Buaji, were deep in discussion with the woman on whom hung the fate of Jiji's happiness- a happiness that a part of Khushi feared she had taken for granted too soon.

Stay calm, she told herself, but her inner voice sounded too doubtful to be very convincing, It will be OK. It will alright. After all, Nani is there too. Jeeju is there. And-

Another voice, different from the wavering, uncertain tone of the first, finished, And he is there too.

But before she could mull over how steady this second voice had sounded- how composed, how quietly confident- there was as a sharp rap at the door.

And it set off a chain reaction of movement as though it had been waiting to happen- pre-set clockwork just waiting for the key to be released. Khushi and Payal exchanged one quick look, a second miraculously packing the myriad of emotions, all the doubt and dread and stress, and then both of them were moving, cutting down the distance to the door as though racing to see who would get there first. Khushi's heart hopped jerkily in place as her hand closed round the doorknob and without giving herself the chance to think, to dwell too long on what she might have to hear, she all but ripped the door open.

And there he stood.

As though summoned by her thoughts.

As though he had been waiting, standing just beyond this door, all this time...waiting to be acknowledged by her, waiting to be mentioned, waiting to invade her thoughts while she had obstinately denied him.

She sucked in a surprised breath, and felt the burn spread like an uncomfortable rash beneath her skin.

Milliseconds clumped together into seconds, and no one spoke for what seemed to be the longest time. The moment hung in delicate suspension, a photograph that had frozen the people, and their words, and their thoughts, everything, into a single frame and immortalised it.

And then Payal hemmed, and the spell was broken, and Khushi abruptly looked away, berating herself yet again on his account.

Admonishing herself for searching his face. Admonishing herself for noting that the daubs of dark below his eyes seemed to have lightened somewhat. For noting the beginnings of a healthier glow creeping in place of the sallow tinge she had seen earlier against his skin. For noting that he was standing up straighter- no longer giving off the air of a man broken...

...but more of a man healed.

She admonished herself for noting, and admonished herself for caring so much, and she prayed that it had not shown on her face.

"Jethji-?" Payal began questioningly, tentatively, and it fractured a little more of the silence, famished with the need for words- the push seemed enough to thrust them back into the present.

"I- uh-," Khushi inadvertently, unwillingly, let her eyes dart toward him, catching his gaze flicking from herself to Jiji and stifling a groan when her heart began to pitter-patter as a result. This is not about you, Khushi...remember that. This is not about you. She squared her shoulders, ready for whatever it was he was about to say to her sister- ready to rejoice with her, or weep with her.

"May I speak to you in private?"

6^th January, 2012, 10.13 a.m. (morning)

The matter was too grave for everyone to tag along. Nani had gone, as an obvious ambassador, and Akash, being the party involved, and so had Mami, on whom hinged so much.

And so had he.

"I still can't completely believe it," NK mumbled slowly, almost as though he were pondering aloud. When Anjali turned to him, broken out of her reminiscences, she caught the thoughtful, ponderous expression morphing the features of the playful NK Bhai she was accustomed to, "That he...that he did all those things he said he'd done..."

The backlash of remorse and guilt at that was vicious; if Anjali had been on her feet, she would no doubt have staggered. Instead, she felt herself cringe, her skin suddenly uncomfortably tight over her bones, as though it were not enough to suppress all the shame that was welling up within her.

She recalled how Chote had remained standing there, refusing to take the chair Akash had tentatively offered him before he had, visibly nervously, settled down to speak his piece. She recalled the sequence of emotions that had taken its round about the table- the shock, the surprise, the confusion, and that definite edge of dread as each of them, in turn, had stolen glimpses of Mami, all certain that what Akash had just revealed to them would be construed by her in only one way.

And then Chote had started speaking, and all her concern for what Mami had been doing or saying had evaporated to nothing.

Even now, several hours after her brother had advanced upon them and made his confession, Anjali could vividly remember every detail of the scene. And a part of her fancied that everyone else who'd been present then might be in the same shoes.

The image had been so striking.

None of them had ever seen Chote like this before.

Stripped of his arrogance and his quiet, tempered pride, today she had seen her brother as a human being as opposed to a superman- a human being complete with his separate package of flaws. She had watched him with a bizarre fascination, unable to look away- watch how his head had remained slightly bowed, not enough to indicate deference or inferiority, but enough to convey the regret contained within each of his words. Not once through his entire speech had he met the eyes of anyone at the table- but he had not wavered for even a second as he had expounded how it had been his actions that night- his suspicions, his anger, his perpetual distrust of strangers- that had ultimately caused Payal's failed first marriage.

How he had, whether directly or indirectly, been responsible for the financial troubles that had befallen the Guptas soon afterward.

How he had intentionally publicised those photographs, had those clips of Khushi falling into his arms telecasted- had encouraged them to be misconstrued, just to defame her and have his revenge.

How he had been a part of the reason they had to leave Lucknow in the first place.

And how he had not ceased his harassment even after they reached Delhi.

Anjali had been listening to him as though in a trance, as though hypnotised by what he was saying. She was listening so closely that she noticed almost immediately when he had gone from saying "the Guptas", to "Khushi's family."

She noticed how his voice trembled and stuttered and stumbled over her name, as though it pained him to say it.

She noticed the tremors of an anguish that threatened to be boundless quivering just beneath the surface of his monotone, as though his voice was caving beneath the load of his remorse.

"It's my fault. I am responsible for Payal's first broken marriage- it was not because of her shortcomings, but because of my actions. And while we're at it, if anyone objects to this rishta because of their financial status- then that too was, in one way or another, my doing. I am not saying that I'm advocating this rishta because of sympathy, or because I want to make up for my mistakes. I am saying, however, that these reasons cannot, and should not be used as objections."

And then he had left.

Just like that.

Turned on his heel, without even giving his shell-shocked audience a chance to recover, a chance to absorb and comprehend and process what he had just proclaimed, and he had gone.

And Anjali had remained, stunned and overwrought, in her seat for five full minutes before Nani's agitated mutterings about Chote's foolhardiness had brought the reality of it all crashing over her head.

Because the truth was, a part of her, a very considerable, dominant part of her, felt accountable.

Accountable for always yielding before her brother's stubbornness, accountable for always letting him have his way to keep the peace.

She had almost never paused to muse over the consequences Chote's actions might have had. Had never tried to delve too deeply into the things he did, or his motivations behind them. Never tried to set him right, reprimand him, stop him from going too far.

Today, more than ever, had been glaring proof of how drastically she had shirked her responsibilities as an older sister.

The guilt of it made her feel sick; bile bubbled at the back of his throat, bitterness coating her mouth.

It had been tearing her apart, undoing her from the inside out, to the point that she had not been able to help herself and called up Khushi to apologise- but even her harried, half-discernible words had felt lacking and she'd been left feeling even more bereft than before.

"I really respect Harjayaji, you know," NK muttered, and it was only then that Anjali realised, too entangled in that discomfiting, disquieting sensation in her gut to have noticed before, that the two of them had at some point fallen silent. She blinked a little blearily at her cousin as he elaborated, "The fact that she wanted this to be clarified- even when things were so precarious."

"She said- she wanted to avoid any misunderstandings happening in the future- on the basis of complete honesty," Anjali murmured. A part of her envied Payal for the bravery she had never even thought to muster- if she had, perhaps her brother would not be standing where he was right now.

It made so much sense- Khushi's sudden reluctance to visit Shantivan, and Chote's abrupt bout of depression...

NK exhaled heavily, the gust of his breath ruffling the unruly few strands of hair hanging over his forehead, "Looks like Nannav took a leaf out of Harjayaji's book. Good for him."

"Is that...enough though?"

Anjali's whispered inquiry was greeted by a prolonged pause, each of them picking up the question and turning it over and over in their minds. It was an apt summation of the uncertainty imminent just then-

Of whether any of this would be enough to convince Mamiji.

Of whether things between the Raizadas and the Guptas could be the same again.

Of whether Arnav could get through to Khushi.

"Well," NK intoned, gruffer than usual, "We'll just have to wait and see."

6^th January, 2012, 10.26 a.m. (morning)

"I'll...er...go to the bedroom then," Khushi tightly excused herself; soreness had dredged deep into her chest and as much as she tried to dismiss it, it would not fade.

This is not about me.

She made to leave, her movements a little jerky- only to have him smoothly block her exit. Without thinking, she glanced up.

The most peculiar expression- a curious cross between awkwardness and something else, something else that seemed familiar and unrecognisable all at once- glittered deep in his caramel-glazed eyes, even though the rest of his face remained stoic, and Khushi, yet again, found that arresting stare to be her undoing.

"What..." she began to inquire softly, and then that glimmer was there again, and in a startling moment of lucidity, Khushi could place it- remorse.

Before she could make sense of what she thought she had seen though, he was speaking.

To her.

"To you, I mean," he fumbled audibly, and it made her blink in acute confusion, because she was all but convinced she had never heard him fumble before. When he continued, his words only amplified the glimmer of awkwardness she had detected before, "I meant...may I speak to you."

This is not about me.

This is not about me.

This is not about-

"Me?" Khushi echoed vaguely, sounding very much as though she was quite sure she had not heard right. This was not about her- this was about Jiji. This was about the request Jiji had made- this was the consequence of Jiji's request. Then why-

Unbidden, a memory, recent and freshly imprinted into her mind just moments ago, resurfaced in response to her denials...her defences...

Chote just told us! He just said that...he just that it was all his fault and that he should have told us a long time ago and- even Payal! Even her first- Khushi, I-

Her brain was at a standstill, digging in its heels and refusing to decode what this all might mean- her heart palpitated with its eagerness to find out.

And as she stared back at him, still dumbstruck, still uncertain and afraid, because things were once again taking turns she had not anticipated and she did not know what to expect anymore, he solemnly locked gazes with her and uttered, as though swearing a pledge, "You."

***

He watched as she appeared to struggle with the notion, the notion of him wanting to speak to her, and it harkened him back to a similar day when he had been here, another apology for the same folly upon his lips, but reserved for another person. That time she had taken for granted that he had come to speak to her- and this time...this time she had taken for granted that he would not have.

That he owed her nothing.

It was so preposterous it made him gnash his teeth, caught in between laughing derisively at himself and mourning how far he had let himself fall.

How far he had let what he had with Khushi fall before it had occurred to him to catch it.

From his right, Payal cleared her throat slightly, and it was only then that he realised he had staring at Khushi again. Much to his consternation, he appeared to have forgotten Payal was even there.

Or simply disregarded her.

"I'll be...I'll be in the bedroom then," she announced, more to Khushi than to him; but he caught the disquiet passing over her face as her gaze wandered to the door he held slightly ajar behind him, and it was only then he remembered his excuse for coming here.

"Actually," he directed at Payal, suddenly, inexplicably aware of another pair of eyes not belong to her- a pair in darkest coffee-brown, liquidy and bottomless- rivet on him, "I came to call you- Nani was asking for you."

The troubled cloud hanging over them just then appeared to thicken, and it cast its shade over both the sisters. Payal shared a suddenly stricken look with Khushi, and Arnav remembered words in blue ink, tattooed into his existence.

I know he'll forever protect his family and make them his priority- for that, I respect him, and I can only hope that he accepts Jiji as part of his herd and takes care of her too...

"It's OK," Arnav heard himself saying, and there was reassurance in his timbre, a hint of comforting he had not known himself to possess. But he did know that it was not entirely directed toward the woman, his future sister-in-law, his brother's wife, who had proved her mettle and her worth and garnered the rare gift of his respect through what she had asked of Akash, at the risk of wagering her future, and through the lessons she had inadvertently taught him about trust and honesty. "Everything...is alright now."

A meaningful silence stretched between them, and Arnav could see comprehension and then relief, and then gratitude dawn upon his sister-in-law in sharp succession. The carefully contrived control she had cloaked herself in slipped free, and she smiled, broadly, brightly, and Arnav thought he saw that glint of silver, that lining in the sky, again. This time though, the rain-clouds did not splice back together and blot out his ray of hope, and for the first time, Arnav found himself harbouring, cautiously, carefully, the tender hope that he might be able to redeem himself yet.

***

Khushi was breathing a little too heavily, her body attempting to accommodate the swiftly passing sensations spinning laps round her. It was a dizzying, overlapping blur of reprieve and delight and succour and, beneath it all, a tingling curiosity at the heart of the whirlwind spinning through her and sucking her thoughts into its circuit, until everything had been snatched from its proper place and tossed chaotically all over the place.

And it was in this muddled, unguarded state of mind that Jiji left her with him.

Once again, in the same kitchen he had confronted her in and threatened to break and shatter her resolve on the very first day of the new year, almost a week ago.

But while her brain rallied its defences and hastened to rebuild the barriers, her heart whispered that something was different.

Something had...changed.

With her heart in her hands, delicate as a young bird blown out of its nest, she breathed in deep and looked up at him.

He was watching her.

Studying her.

Intently.

There was something searching, probing, about his stare, something that could make her bare skin prickle and her covered skin heat, and within moments he had managed to banish all of her ravelled, jumbled clutter of thought and concern and doubt, and all that was left was the painful consciousness of the state she was in.

Face flushed from the kitchen's steam, dupatta barely hanging on to her shoulders, hair an obvious disaster, and possibly, judging from her unrestrained violence with the vegetables earlier, adorned with rinds and shavings from the contents of a lunch she had failed to actually cook.

Embarrassment steam-rolled her on the spot.

"Wh-what...what did you want to talk about?" she bent her head to the ground, frame rigid to the point of pain; who knew what he must have thought, seeing her like this. It would only have served to cement his opinion of her as a halvai's daughter. It had never bothered her before, when the question was of her alone, but this time, what he thought of her was linked directly to his impression of the rest of her family and-

"I thought you might want to talk to me."

That took a minute to penetrate through to her, and a bit longer before she could understand it.

"I- might want to-" she began, still staring at the ground, but with a puzzled furrow to her brow.

"Or that...you might want to ask me something..."

Khushi hazarded a look in his direction. He still stood where he had after he'd moved to let Jiji pass through, but something about the way he held himself today was different. Taller than her, but no longer towering. Not another advantage in his already overmanned arsenal that he had, once upon a time, used to bear down upon her- intimidate her.

In fact, he was standing a considerable distance away from her, and though she could not tell if he had placed that space between them on purpose, it decidedly felt odd. He never had any qualms about invading her personal space, never seemed to consider anything out of the ordinary being within a foot of her but today...today he stood at what, for another person and in another place, Khushi might have called a respectful distance.

"Why...why...would you think that?" Khushi croaked; but even as she asked that, she remembered a not too distant moment from earlier that morning.

A moment that had been catalysed by the unmistakeable rumble of his four-wheeler outside her home...a moment that had lasted from the point she had unthinkingly abandoned her phone in a basket of vegetables and pelted herself out the living-room, to the front door, wrenching the doors open, her body alive and abuzz with a subconscious intent it had yet to let her brain know of.

The only thing she had known, right there and then, had been that she had to speak to him. She needed to speak to him.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

In the absence of the sharp clacks of her knife against the chopping-board, her pet collection of "Why's" sounded that much louder, and even more pressing.

"Well..." he started, and Khushi discovered she was holding her breath but she did not know what she was waiting for, "Because I was hoping to avoid another flat tire when going home, just in case."

The air burst out of her as though she'd received a blow to her lungs.

6^th January, 2012, 12.14 p.m. (afternoon)

"He's a good man, isn't he?"

Payal watched out of the corner of her eyes as Khushi started, visibly shaking off the trance she had been sitting in for the past quarter of an hour. Payal even suspected that until she called out to her just now, she had not even realised Payal had joined her in their shared bedroom, sitting at the foot of the bed as she pretended to flip through some magazine Khushi had left lying around.

There was a decided pause, and then Khushi said, "Yes, Jeeju definitely is a good man- he pulled through for you, didn't he? I'm so proud of him...and happy for you."

Tilting her head toward her sister, Payal had no occasion to doubt the sincerity of Khushi's words- in truth, they resonated so much with her own feelings at that juncture. She had not known, when she had made her request of Akashji when he had called at their home last night, begging to meet her, conflicted between apologising to her and seeking retribution from his mother- she had not known at all what repercussions her request would have had.

There had been dread- dread that, if she had let it, would have erupted into blood-curdling terror that this one move might have undone all the premature, fledgling dreams of a happy ever after she had nurtured as any girl in love would- dread that had been mirrored in Akashji's face when she had beseeched him to let his family know everything.

He had tried to talk her out of it...tried to buy himself more time, but she had pushed the boundaries of their relationship farther than she had ever thought of pushing and demanded that he let them know, as soon as possible, the very next morning...a part of her had trembled from apprehension, the other had accused her of being a coward for not broaching the subject herself with her in-laws, and she had offered to go with him, to plead her own case with him by her side.

But perhaps he had seen her fear despite all her attempts to put up a brave face, or perhaps, after what had happened earlier that afternoon, he expected his mother to be ruthless and unforgiving, especially un-malleable before her- and he had promised her he would do as she said.

Even though it was clear he was as afraid as she was.

And he had lived up to his promise, and her heart sang its pride of him, and its happiness at her fortune of falling in love with a man who would place her before himself as much as she placed him before her- a complete antithesis to the marriage alliance whose secret she had wanted to have exposed, once and for all.

Right now though, it was not Akashji that she had been speaking off, and in that fraction of a second where Khushi had been surfacing from her reverie, she had been able to tell that she'd been thinking of the same person Payal had meant.

"You might be right about that," Payal concurred with a light smile playing about her lips, before nonchalantly elaborating, "But I was talking about Jethji."

The reaction was immediate- a flash of something similar to recognition danced through Khushi's eyes, her mouth growing slack, her cheeks reddening, before she managed to catch herself and erase all incriminating evidence off her face.

But not before Payal had already caught it.

When it became clear that Khushi had chosen not to respond to her observation, Payal recommenced, undeterred, "Nani was telling me about how he told everyone today about...everything," she paused here, eying Khushi as furtively as she could manage, but the latter seemed to have fallen into another private daydream, "I thought that was really decent of him."

And then, like a balloon stabbed at with a pin, Khushi exploded again.

"Jiji, I think he's lost it."

6^th January, 10.42 a.m. (morning)

"What?"

Khushi blinked, and blinked, and blinked so hard bright red dots started popping behind her eyelids, but it was not enough to get rid of the outlandish tricks her brain was conjuring.

Like the teasing light in his eye.

Or the lopsided smirk bubbling beneath the surface against his lips.

"What did you say?" she asked again, halfway down the road convincing herself that she had entirely invented what he had just supposedly said, because there was no way he could have meant that he was-

"Just saving you the trouble of letting the air out of my tyres, that's all."

***

He watched her, grappling with the alien feeling of fondness stretching its hold from every last nook to every last cranny in his being, as she gawked at him for infinite seconds- watched the swift transition from dumbfounded disbelief to what resembled...irritability.

Stiffly, with the air of one with a tenuous grip on their temper, she retorted, "I never said I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"But you did run to the door before I could ring the doorbell-"

Khushi's eyes widened to impossibly round, perfect circles at the unsaid accusation, crimson staining her cheeks, "I did not! I heard the car and- and Anjaliji was on the phone and-" She descended into unintelligible stuttering, and Arnav did not even think to interject.

It had been so long.

Too long.

"And anyway," she managed to garble, righteous fury bringing that feisty glint to her eye that he had so sorely missed, "It's only natural that I'd open the door if I know there are visitors coming- I mean what's the point of waiting around for someone to ring the bell when I know they're here already and-"

"And you wanted to ask me something," Arnav chipped in gently, what he suspected was called affection warming like a spoonful of honey in winter as Khushi stumbled to a stop, her lashes fluttering in endearing confusion, and he flashed back to that startling moment where his hand had been stretched out for the doorbell, and before he had begun to mentally compose and steel himself for his second round of confessions for the day, the front-door had flown upon...and there she was.

Her eyes swimming with perplexity, puzzles, questions, and zeroed in on him...

...as though he were the only one who could answer them.

"And also because," he joked lightly, aware of how edgy and uneasy she had grown, baffled and twisting her fingers together, "I don't need Nani finding out I can't replace my own car tyres."

As though hunting for an excuse to exit unfamiliar territory, Khushi grasped at the opening he'd provided as he had hoped she would. "That's your own fault," she accused, though there was no sting to her words, no offence meant, "I even gave you a book to learn about it-"

"I book I can't read-"

"Well, shame on you for not being able to read your own mother-tongue-"

"So perhaps you can teach me-"

"I-," Dead pause. "What?"

"Maybe," Arnav began again, a rhythmic pounding commencing against his eardrums in tune with the hammering going on in his chest, "Maybe you could...teach me?"

6^th January, 2012, 12.30 p.m. (afternoon)

"Lost it?" Jiji repeated dubiously, "What do you mean?"

Khushi dropped the pillow she had been hugging to herself- heavy with the weight of the diary still tucked inside the casing- and gesticulated wildly to make her point, "Like...he's...he's...I don't know! He's...hit his head...or he's been possessed...or he's- oh, I know!...he's got that thing that Vidya Balan got in Bhool Bhulaiya...buy-one-get-one-free personality..."

Payal quirked an eyebrow at her sister. "Seriously, Khushi?" her voice was rich with incredulity, "You think Jethji has multiple personality disorder just because he was being nice?"

"Yes!" Khushi gushed emphatically. Payal rolled her eyes.

"So you're trying to say that it's impossible for Arnav Singh Raizada to be nice-"

"No," Khushi groaned, and passed a shaking hand over her forehead; her skin felt hot, burning almost, and heat scorched behind her ears too, "I'm not saying that-"

"So you are saying that he is nice-"

"Never on purpose-"

"He's not nice on purpose?"

"No, he is nice- sometimes-"

"So he's nice, just sometimes?"

Khushi buried her face in her pillow. She did not even know what she was trying to say anymore.

Or whether she understood it herself.

"It's not that he's not nice," Khushi mumbled into her pillow, her words muffled, "But even he's nice, he'll find a way to be mean about it..."

Except today, her faithful little inner voice, highly adept at saying what she did not want to hear, tittered to her.

"Maybe you could...teach me..."

The man had asked her to teach him Hindi. Or maybe teach him how to change car-tyres, who knew at this point.

The fact of the matter he had asked for her help.

Not unwillingly. Not dispassionately.

He'd done the unthinkable- he had admitted to not knowing something she knew- and he'd asked her help for it.

As though they were equals.

And she could tell- from the way he had been looking at her, almost expectantly, almost hopefully, waiting and watching, watching and waiting- that he had meant it.

She was convinced. He'd gone stark-raving-bonkers-crazy.

The problem here was, he was driving her stark-raving-bonkers-crazy too.

She hadn't been able to take it anymore- she'd asked her question.

"Why?" she murmured, to the universe at large- more specifically, to him.

That was all she had said- a small puff of breath carrying a ton of meaning and layers upon layers of riddles she was desperate to know the answers of.

But even though it was one word, one misleadingly simple word belying the world of meaning it encompassed, he appeared to have understood.

He answered her question.

"Because..." he breathed out, and the gravity of his following words scarred themselves into Khushi's memory, promising to visit her in her sleep and in her daydreams, "because I am sorry."

And as she heard herself gasp, and felt the world still in its constant, inexorable need to keep moving, spinning, as she and everyone rushed to keep up with its ebb and flow, and in the midst of that stillness, where nothing else moved but them, he repeated, holding her eyes with one of the most captivating emotions she had ever seen there, "I am so sorry. For everything."

"So let me get this straight," her sister's part-amused part-sceptical tone brought her back to the present and it was only then that she realised she had been rocking slightly, back and forth, the weight of the pillow (and her diary) on her lap, "You are complaining because he isn't being mean?"

She didn't know.

Payal did not wait for her response, "You should be happy, shouldn't you? You're always complaining about how rude the Laad Governor is, and how he's always yelling, and he's always angry...I'd have thought you would be glad if he was a little nicer..."

Once upon a time, Khushi contemplated, she might as well have been very happy if he was a little nicer.

But the problem was...the problem was she had seen him as nicer...and she'd seen what would happen afterwards.

How he could be twice as cruel, twice as merciless as she was used to, as though to compensate for any uncharacteristic act of kindness.

She was fast developing a headache, her brain practically coming apart at the seams in its relentless tug-of-war- caught between repressing her memories of what had transpired between them in the kitchen and analysing it to bits. Meanwhile, her heart quaked- and Khushi understood why.

It wanted to believe him...but it was afraid.

Afraid that if it was broken this time, it might never be able to mend itself.

The edge of her diary, through the fabric of her pillow-case, jabbed at her thigh the whole time.

A reminder of her resolutions.

***

"So...how did it go?"

Arnav did not know whether or not to feel surprised as NK sauntered over to him, oozing casual indifference. But Arnav had learnt only recently not to go by appearances- the pain in the neck had caught him off guard more than once.

"How did what go?" he warily dodged the question, even though he had an inkling of what NK was asking of him.

His cousin was persistent.

"Did you apologise to her?"

Arnav turned to NK, who had successfully accosted him on the way to his room and was now unapologetically blocking his way.

There was no doubt, he was sure, as to which "her" he meant.

And at this stage, he was not feeling up to dishonesty.

He owed her better than that.

There was something instantly repulsive about the idea of having to keep what he was doing (and who he was doing it for) under wraps.

After all...it was nothing to be ashamed of.

If anything, for once in his life, he was doing something someone (and perhaps himself, in the future) may be proud of.

His answer was short and simple. "Yes."

He smoothly edged past NK, almost a foot from his room when the latter called out to him-

"And have you made it up to her?"

Arnav halted in his tracks, unseeing eyes staring at his bedroom door- the same door that NK had come knocking at maybe two days ago, and gone through uninvited.

And taught him the difference between an apology and an amendment.

His thoughts travelled back to Khushi, in her kitchen, staring at him with eyes clouded over with doubt, with bewilderment.

With distrust.

Taking a detour, his recollections reached a little farther back, and remembered how, in that same kitchen on a different day, she'd flinched back because she had thought- he had actually pushed her far enough to think- that he had been raising his hand at her.

It pained him, made his bones tremble.

"Not completely," he answered back, voice suddenly uneven and gravelly, and then, "But I will."

The apology was done with. The amendments had begun.

Thank you for reading! I would be immensely grateful if you'd leave a comment or a like, even just a word, letting me know what you thought of this chapter :)

Massive thanks and hugs to all commenters of previous chapters- you guys are my motivation for writing!

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

Originally posted by: -doe-eyes-

RES for Part 10