As her hand clasped into Bradley's, the thought of beautiful eyes occupied her muddled thoughts. She loved the color of those eyes. Sweet. Addictive. Darker when clouded with anger. She could feel those eyes watching her from a distance, and for a moment, she felt beautiful. She felt like Meena. Like an indestructible force.
So with no hesitation and no reservation, she wrapped her arms securely around Bradley's neck and danced with her heart. Danced because Arnav was watching her. Danced because Bradley was strong and kind. Danced because Meena was scowling in her direction. Danced because her heart was pounding in excitement and anticipation. She reveled in Mr. Raizada's sturdy glare and within Mr. Fisher's sturdy arms, the alcohol-induced passion warming her as she spun back into Bradley's embrace.
She heard an incoherent voice as Bradley pulled her in closer and whispered, "You're remarkable, Khushi". The man who held her in his arms was handsome and tender, quietly memorizing her features and touching her gently. Yet her gaze shifted beyond the piercing blue, clashed with the fire burning within a set of darkening brown, the whisky being poured down his throat as he watched her with distaste. She was twirled and spun, laughing in intoxicated happiness, the pains of her relationship forgotten and obsolete. She felt the stares of the people around her--- a vision in brilliant red draped in the arms of a handsome man, an abundance of curls flying around a flushed face and sticking to the thin sheen of sweat emerging across her brow. Laughter tinkled with the music--- a gaiety of abandonment and freedom.
Of Khushi.
She was pulled out of her revelry when she was grabbed and hauled into something solid. Something hot. Burning. Those arms were not Bradley's. The grasp around her shoulders was unforgiving and intolerant. The man smelled like the moss on earthen wood, not the sweet licorice belonging to blonde locks and blue eyes. Somewhere, her brain caught the undertones of whisky and cigarette smoke, her curious gaze shifting to meet destructive eyes blazing red. And a million goose bumps broke sporadically along her bare skin, the chill sprinting along her spine, when Arnav Singh Raizada whispered menacingly under his breath.
"Touch my wife again, and I will not hesitate to kill you".
She was pushed roughly behind his back while he served as a barrier between her and Bradley, threateningly aligning the latter's collar and wiping the mark of lipstick from where her mouth had touched his shirt while carelessly dancing. Wounded, blue eyes met with the woman who was cowering behind his business rival, begging for reconciliation and reassurance. When silent guilt was all he received, Bradley Fisher apologized to Arnav and dejectedly walked away. He had truly been allured by Khushi. She was something completely different. Something enchanting. An enigma he could never hold again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arnav wrapped her hand tightly around his own as he pulled his wife through the crowds to the taxis lined in front of the Metropolitan Museum. Meena rushed behind them, calling for Arnav to stay back, but even she was disregarded in his drunken stupor. He pushed Khushi inside roughly before getting in himself, the alcohol coursing through his system and frenzying the control of his judgments. As she quietly rested her spinning head against the stained window, he hurled abuses at her to lighten the weight resting upon his heart.
A two-bit wh*re. A sl*t. A skank. A home wrecker. An irredeemable flirt.
He spat at her face and exclaimed that she would burn in hell for playing with innocent lives. For tarnishing dreams and families. He screamed every abuse that would hurt her as much as she had hurt him, every slur that would break her sprit.
His endless obscenities added fuel to the unfamiliar fire already raging within her, the inflated confidence growing narcissistic as he again raised question on her character and morals. The words stung deeper than the alcohol that she had poured into her body, consuming her with spite and resentment.
They reached the hotel and he roughly hauled her inside, the curses growing harsher and louder as he punched the button impatiently for the elevator. The disturbed looks being passed their way were ignored, the spectators deciding it was just another spiff between a husband and a wife. As the elevator dinged open for service, Khushi was pushed inside, her balance lost as her long heels twisted and her body tumbled to the ground. Arnav let out a humiliating sneer and hit the buttons for their floors.
"You deserve it, Khushi. For whoring around and..."
The assaults continued relentlessly. And the alcohol coursing through her body encouraged the irrational blaze within her, burning away her trepidation and fear to ashes. Her feet found their footing. Her body rose to level with her husband. She looked into his chastising eyes and felt the umbrage she had confined within herself surge through and conquer. And her small hands found his chest as she pushed him back with all the force she could muster.
"IF I'M A TWO BIT WH*RE, THEN WHY DO YOU CARE ARNAV? WHY? WHY NOT LET ME WH*RE AROUND AS I LIKE?"
Needles pricked his skin when he registered her words, and his hands furiously wrapped around her wrists as he pushed her insolently against the elevator wall... his neatly gelled hair flying in a frenzy and his eyes vehement with rage. His mouth curled into a sneer of loathing
"WHY? WHY?! BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN MY FAMILY, YOU B*TCH. YOU'RE GOING TO DESTROY MY SISTER'S HOME WITH THAT----"
"FINE. THEN TAKE ME BACK TO THAT PARTY AND LET ME GO AND WH*RE AROUND WITH BRADLEY FISHER. HE SEEMED INTERESTED ENOUGH. I'LL GO WITH HIM AND LEAVE YOUR FAMILY ALONE"
His grip tightened as he heard Bradley's name roll off her tongue, his head hammering as she conceded to enjoying the time she spent with another man.
"SHUT THE F*CK UP, KHUSHI. YOU'RE STUCK WITH ME, ALL RIGHT?. YOU'RE MY WIFE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?
His wife? She snickered, dripping with pity and craze. Her hazel eyes peered questioningly into his own and she felt her cheeks flushing under his uncompromising scrutiny.
"I'm not your wife, Arnav ji. I'm ornamental. A collectible."
His heart sank, yet his anger escalated. Her words bounced off the walls of the elevator, hanging thick in the air, making it hard to swallow. The throbbing of his head intensified as she continued.
"Tell me that this marriage means something to you. Tell me your wife means something to you. TELL ME THAT YOU WOULD GIVE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST OF A DAMN IF I DIE TONIGHT OR NOT. TELL ME!"
She had taken the opportunity to remove her hands from his hold, the reddening around her wrists testimony to the bruises that would adorn them in the morning. She grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to her face, begging him to say something.
To say anything.
Troubled eyes scanned over his features twisted in scorn and revulsion, her grasp around his collar tightening as he raised large hands to cup around her flushed face, his fingers curling and pulling at the hair behind her ears. With a jerk, her body slammed completely against his own, her breasts crashing with the hard planes of his chest and his breath, reeking with whisky, mingling with hers.
"FARAK PADHTA HAI KHUSHI. I FFEL LIKE DYING SEEING YOU WITH ANOTHER MAN. YOU... YOU'RE WARMTH. YOU'RE SUNSHINE. YOU'RE F*CKING HAPPINESS. YOU'RE CHILDISHNESS AND INNOCENCE. I CAN'T STAND TO SEE ANYONE ELSE HOLDING YOU. MAKING YOU LAUGH. I CAN'T STAND TO SEE SOMEONE ELSE BRINGING THAT GLINT TO YOUR EYES. I CANNOT F*CKING STAND IT. YOU'RE MY WIFE, FOR GOD'S SAKE."
The words rang through her ears and coursed through her intoxicated body, the charged heat of the alcohol transforming into a much easier warmth of comfort. His eyes had softened slightly, hints of the lighter brown she adored escaping the barrier of his anger, the hold around her face relaxing. She felt his uneven breath tickling and warming her cheeks, the blood surging through her veins, her eyes shutting of their own accord.
When his lips met with her own.
Kumkum Bhagya
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