Shaapit - The Cursed Sisters - Thread 2 (Re-posting)

"Ma! Aap theek to hain?" Anjali grabbed her mother by the shoulders as the older woman swayed, holding on to the wall for support. "Chaliye hum aapko aapke kamre mein lejaate hain." (Ma! Are you alright? Come, I'll take you to your room.)

Once she had Garima settled in bed, she sat down in front of her. "Ma! Humne kaha tha aapse! Aapko doctor ke paas jaana chahiye aur-" her own tears choked her and stopped her from continuing. She gripped her mother's hand tight. "Please Ma, apna khayaal rakkhiye..." (Ma! I have told you to go to the doctor and- Please Ma, take care of yourself...)

Her mother shook her head. "Nahin, Bitiya. Yeh to bas aaj-" (No, Bitiya. It's just today-)

"Medicines khaayi apne?" (Have you taken your meds?)

Garima sighed and nodded with a smile. "Ek kaam karegi tu mera? Aaj tu dukaan jaa aur kaam sambhaalo." (You'll do one thing for me? Go to the bookshop for me today.)

For the first time since she had heard about American Express - the name she had given her suitor - Anjali smiled. The family bookshop was her favourite place! There was no way she could refuse this!

Garima watched her daughter get in the car and leave and turned to Madhu with a smile. The plan had worked.

***

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and sighed. It was extremely hot in Kolkata and the ceiling fan was no comfort. But Anjali had done some work she had been planning to do since ages ago. She had redone the arrangement, plus she had also made a few sales.

She was just going to sit on the stool to carry on with her reading when a customer came in. She gruffly lifted her eyes to see a man walk in. For some reason Anjali felt her heart leap with a thud. He had those looks you could usually find in writers only.

"Uhh... Miss?" he snapped his fingers in front of her face and she started.

"Ji?" (Yes?)

"Aapke paas Agatha Christie ke novels hain?" (Do you have Agatha Christie's novels?)

Her jaw dropped. Agatha Cristie was her favourite! Did he love her books too? She closed her mouth and hurriedly got off the stool and walked to the other side of the counter where the books were kept. Anjali pointed out the collection, shooting him shy glances as he skimmed through the titles. Her heart fluttered every time he looked at her, wondering if that was what Khushi had felt when she had met Barun?

Was it like this to be in love?

Finally, her customer straightened himself and cleared his voice. "Hum saari collection lelenge!" (I'll take the whole collection!)

Her jaw dropped open. What? All? She nodded swiftly and silently took the books from the display to pack them. The man tilted his head, his eyes on her.

"Aap baat nahin karti apne customers se?" (Don't you speak to the customers?)

When she lifted her wide eyes from the brown packaging paper, her heart skipped a beat at his handsome, lopsided grin and his sparkling pale grey eyes. Anjali gulped, then shook her head.

"Ma ne anjaan aadmiyon se baat karne se mana kiya hai. Khaas karke jab se uss American Express ke maa-baap ne phone kiya!" she grumbled, returning to her work. (Ma has forbidden me to speak to strangers, especially since that America Express' parents called!)

"American Express?" he echoed in confusion.

"Hmm... Humaare liye rishta bheja hai unhone! America mein rehte hain aur chaahte hain ke shaadi ke baad hum bhi vahaan jaayein." (Hmm... They have sent a proposal for me! He lives in America and want me to live there after marriage too.)

Her customer grimaced at her sour tone. "Aur aapka kya khayaal hain?" (And what do you think?)

"Hum?" Anjali sighed. "Humein nahin karni shaadi. Humein apni Maa aur behen ke saath rehna hai!" (Me? I don't want to get married. I want to stay with my mother and sister!)

He smiled as she pushed the bag in which she had placed the package across the counter. "Shukriya," he stared at her for some time. "Aapka naam kya hai?"(Thank you. What's your name?)

"Anjali."

He nodded and walked away, leaving a question tingling on the young woman's lips.

***

The phone rang just as Khushi was watering her fourth rosebush on the balcony. She bit her lip and walked to the phone to answer.

"Hello?"

"Ahm... Namaste," a male voice spoke. "Is this... I mean, yeh... uhh... Garima Gupta ka ghar hai?"

A slight frown crinkled her forehead. "Ji, hai." (Yes it is.)

"Voh, main... voh... I'm Arnav Singh Raizada, main Khushi se baat karsakta houn?"(Actually, I... I'm Arnav Singh Raizada, can I speak to Khushi?)

Her breath caught in her throat while her eyes widened. He Devi Maiyya! Why was he calling?

"J-j-ji... h-hum hain..." (Y-y-yes... it's m-m-me...)

There was a sigh on the other side. "Oh... Hi. Tum theek ho?" (... Are you fine?)

She started nodding dumbly when she realised he couldn't see her. "Ji." (Yes.)

"Voh... uhh..." he gulped. "Mujhe tumse poochhna tha ki... voh... you'llcomeoutfordinnerwithme?" he released nervously. (Actually... uhh... I wanted to ask you... that...)

"Ji?" Khushi frowned. He seemed to be speaking gibberish. (What?)

He took a deep breath. "Tum mere saath dinner pe chalogi?" (Will you come out for dinner with me?)

And at the same time, Rama appeared in front of her daughter, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Khushi's eyes opened wider and she gasped, out of both shock and fear - hock from him, fear from her mother.

"Ji?" she exclaimed. (What?)

Rama gestured the phone with her hand as if to ask Khushi who it was. Usually, she would never have the decency to remain silent; Manorama always made it a point to shout out her questions except when it came to gossiping. But this time, fortunately, she had a nearly dried mask on her face, which had frozen her lips into slience.

"Tum hamesha 'ji' kyun bolti ho?" Arnav asked simultaneously, trapping Khushi in a dilemma. Who to answer first? (Why do you always say 'ji'?)

"Voh..." she quickly grabbed a note block from the table. 'Arnavji', she scribbled as a reply to her mother. Rama's eyes opened wide in excitement as Garima and Madhu joined them too.

"H-humein M-m-maa s-se-" she stammered. She already was nervous to talk to him and now the mothers were adding to it by surrounding her to try to know what he was saying. (I'll have to-)

"Poochhna padega?" he finished for her and she bit her lip. "Aunty ko phone do."(Ask first? Give the phone to Aunty.)

She dumped the phone in Garima's hands and ran off to hide in her room, her heart hammering. And as soon as she closed the door, guilt overcame every other feeling. She loved Barun Ghosh, not Arnav Singh Raizada. Then why was her heart being so irrational?

She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time, as if waiting for an answer. Her tears surged, but refused to leave her eyes. Why was life so complicated? Why couldn't people just marry the ones the loved?

Khushi let herself sit on the bed. She had no feelings for her soon-to-be fiance, she realised. None at all. If her heart was racing when she had been talking to him, it was not because she felt attracted to him in any way, it was simply because she was nervous. He was a nice and kind man and she thought he deserved better than her. He deserved a woman who would love him with her whole heart. But she could not be that woman.

She was damaged. She loved another man. Khushi wondered if he would accept having a wife like that. Maybe if Badi Ma did accept her going to dinner with him, she could tell him about Barun. Maybe if he understood, he would try help her. Maybe he could break off this alliance and make her marry Barun?

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, praying Anjali's mother would allow her to go to the dinner...

A knock at the door jerked her awake. She wiped her face dry hastily as she got up and opened it to find Madhu Maa observing her. The mother gave her a gentle smile and made her sit back on the bed.

"Garima ne damaad babua ko manaa kardiya. Kya hai ki shaadi se pehle yeh sab theek nahin hai, Bitiya." (Garima said no. These things are not right before marriage.)

Though her heart was sinking, Khushi smiled obediently at her aunt. "Hum samajhte hain, Madhu Maa." (I understand.)

Madhu surveyed her attentively. "Sab theek to hai na, Khushi? Tum iss shaadi se khush to ho? Ladka pasand hai, na?" (Is everything okay? Are you happy with this marriage? You like the boy?)

Khushi just stared back with her smile plastered on her face. "Haan, Madhu Ma."(Yes.)

***

Anjali got down from the car smiling widely. Could this day be any better? She was in love! But as soon as she crossed the threshold of her home, she froze in place and her smile flew out of the window. How could she have done such a thing?

How could she have done the same mistake as Khushi? How could she have let herself believe something so absurd? Had she forgotten what pain it had thrown her cousin into? A proposal had come for her just the previous day, for God's sake! How-?

Madhu Maa appeared in front of her smiling and steered her up in her room quickly. Khush was there already, a small fake smile plastered on her face.

"Madhu Ma? Aap-"

"Abhi kuchh mat poochho, Bitiya! Bas jaldi taiyyaar hoke neeche aao!" (Don't ask anything! Just get ready quick and come down!)

"Lekin yeh sab kya ho raha hai?" Anjali insisted crossly as a midnight blue Banarasi saree intricately filled with zari threadwork was thrown in her hands.(But what's happening?)

"Arrey! Ladkewaale rishta pakka karne aye hain!" (The boys have come to finalise the proposal!)

Panic-striken, she glanced at her cousin. "Khushi ke-"

Madhu interrupted promptly by shaking her head. "Tumhaara rishta, pagli!" (Your proposal!)

"Kya?" Anjali's jaw dropped. "Rishta pakka karne? Lekin unhone ne to humein dekha bhi nahin!" (What? But they have not even seen me!)

Panic was bubbling inside her but there was also a mad, hysterical laughter rising up her parched throat. Here, she was crushing irrevocably over her writer-looks-waala customer, and there those horrible family members of American Express had come over to... no! She would make the boy detest her! surely they would be accorded some time alone, with Khushi at some distance like it had happened for the latter, right? Yes! She would scare American Express away!

With a deep breath, she nodded at the two women before her. Khushi squeezed her hand with a tight smile and told her she would be outside in case Anjali needed help with the saree.

She walked in stiffly, without smiling, and her eyes riveted to the tray she was carrying. She was envisaging the possibility of overturning the teapot full of steaming tea on American Express. It was sure a good way to scare him off but she knew it would also sully her mother's name...

Garima smiled up at her only daughter. "Anjali, idhar aao, inse milo. Yeh Shyaam Manohar Jha hain, inhon ne hi tumhaare liye rishta bheja tha. Aur Shyaam beta humse yeh bhi keh rahe the ke unhon ne aapko dekhte hi pasand karliya!" (Anjali, come here, meet him. This is Shyaam Manohar Jha, He had sent the proposal for you. And he was just telling me he approved of it as soon as he saw you!)

Anjali felt herself frown as her feet stopped moving of their own accord. He had liked her? As soon as he had seen her? Where the hell had he seen her?

Almost simultaneously, the man who sat before her, and hence had his back to her, stood and turned around with a large smirk.

"Aap shaayad mujhe American Express ke naam se jaanti hain?" he asked, an amused glint glittering his eyes. (Maybe you know me as American Express?)

Her eyes widened in pure horror as she felt the tray slipping from between her fingers. If it weren't for his quick reflex, they would have both been showered with piping hot tea and, she was sure, suffered horrible burns. But he was quick. His hands closed around hers on the tray to steady it. Electric heat flowed in her arms as her eyes collided with his soft, pale grey ones. She felt her lips part while he took the weight off her hands.

Anjali was still frozen there when her mother introduced his parents to her and it was only a nudge from Rama which caused her to instinctively fold her hands in greeting. Her eyes were glued to him. Her customer, who had bought the entire collection of Agatha Christie! It was really him!

***

Khushi walked in with a platter of hot pakode, as dull as ever. Since Arnavji's call which was narrowly followed by Garima's clean refusal of her going out with him, her heart had sunken in a deep abyss from where a return was practically impossible. She had given up hope.

She placed the platter on the table beside the tray of tea and stood straight, behind her mother as Badi Ma introduced her to the Jhas. She smiled at them politely though she felt her sister's suitor stare at her obstinately. He refused to look away and, truthfully, she felt a cold shiver travel down her back. Maybe she was wrong, but something did not seem quite right with the way he was looking at her.

As any good sister would do for her sibling, she avoided him as much as she could. Until Garima asked her to accompany Shyaam and Anjali in the garden, like it had been for Arnav and her. Reluctantly, she followed, twisting the edge of her teal salwar's dupatta around her little finger. Her mind kept whirling around Arnav Singh Raizada, Barun Ghosh and her.

She could not marry Arnav. She did not love him, and that meant, she would never be able to make him completely happy, could she? But marrying Barun Ghosh was even a more impossible alternative, because she knew the mothers, and she knew they'd never sent her in a house of a low caste as daughter-in-law. They had too much self-esteem for that. What could she do? How could she get out of this dilemma?

She chanced a look at Anjali who was smiling radiantly at her suitor. She seemed so... in love? Anjali was in love? Anjali, who had never believed in love? Warmth filled Khushi as she watched her sister throw her head back and heartily at something Shyaam had said. She smiled slightly, her sister's bliss making her heart raise a bit. At least one person had found love between them...

Her thoughts travelled back to Barun and Arnav, and she didn't even notice when Anjali had run back into the house to fetch something she wanted to show to her future husband, nor when the man had shifted closer to her.

"Khushiji?"

She jerked, astonished. "Ji?" (Yes?)

He reached out to touch her arm but Khushi recoiled immediately, wincing, and his hand balled into a fist in mid-air, to fall back at his side.

"Aap bohot sundar hain," he whispered in way that scared Khushi. "Beautiful... Anjali se bhi ziaada... Agar humein pata hota, to hum aapki behen ke liye nahin, aapke liye rishta bhejte... Aapki razaamandi ho to hum unse baat karlein?" (You're very beautiful... More than Anjali... Had I known, I would have sent the proposal for you... If you agree, may I talk to the elders?)

At that moment, Khushi could not herself understand what was happening to her. An angry fire lashed into her, making her clench her fists and jaw, her eyes narrowing as the snap slipped from her mouth.

"Humein lagta hai ke Badi Maa ne aapko diya hai ke humaari shaadi taiy ho chuki hai. Jaan lijiye ke hum uss mein bohot khush hain." (I think Badi Ma has already told you that my marriage has been fixed. And I'm very happy with that.)

She gave him a cold stare before looking away at the house from where Anjali was walking back. She was smiling but Khushi's heart sank deeper. This man... he didn't really love her sister back...

"Arrey! Aap dono mein jaan-pehchaan bhi ho rahi hai? Achha hai!" she chirped excitedly. Then only, she saw the discomfort on Khushi's face. "Khush? Tum theek to ho na?" (Hey! You're getting to know each other too? Good! Khush? Are you okay?)

Khushi sighed and reluctantly shook her head, even as she hated to ruin her sister's moment, she could not stay in this man's presence.

"Chalo, andar chalte hain," Anjali frowned. (Come, let's go in.)

***

Anjali and Shyaam's engagement, it had been decided, would take place on the same day as Khushi's. There had been a small problem though, when they had gone inside as the groom's father was demanding a dowry. His son, however, stepped in and refused firmly to his father's displeasure but he had been successful in further winning Anjali's heart.

Khushi retreated to her room as soon as she could. Her life was already complicated enough. Why did God have to make Shyaam also...? She had sat in her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and cried with her forehead resting on her knees. Why was life so unfair? Why was she even beautiful? It was like a curse. She almost hated herself for being in such a muddle.

She almost wished for death...

***

Sometime after the Jhas had left, Khushi left her room. There was one day before her engagement now and she was more miserable than ever. She asked Badi Ma if she could go out walk in the garden. She went straight to her blood red roses. They were her favourites.

As she was taking care of them, Paramji, the driver, strolled casually over.

"Aap kaise ho, Bitiya?" he asked warmly in that fatherly tone that was a void in Khushi's tangled life. (How are you?)

She smiled tearily at him. "Theek." (Fine.)

Without another word, he stuffed a piece of folded paper in her hand and left. Her heart thudding, she pried it open and that familiar scrawl lit her whole world up.

Dear Khushi,

Meet me at the Kuldevi's mandir at nine thirty.

Your Barun.

She smiled, nearly bubbling with laughter. Of course she would meet him...

***

For Anjali, the bliss of love had blinded her completely. She spent the night dancing dreamily in her room, imagining herself to be dancing with her Shyaam, her American Express. Sleep evaded her. She wanted to be married right away.

It felt so good to be in love...

No it wasn't...

She had suddenly remembered Khushi, who was trapped in a bottomless dilemma. She was having to choose between love and duty. Her heart went out to her cousin. She wished she could do something.

Anjali got up from her bed where she had been dreaming and walked to the window which overlooked the garden. Khushi stood there with her back to her. With a sigh, she rested her head against the wooden window frame.

What was written in their fates?

Her feet flew up the cool rock stairs in rhythm with her erratic heart. She was smiling like she never had before. It had been luck, maybe, that had supported her when she had asked the mothers permission to visit the Kuldevi's mandir just the day before her engagement. They had remained thoughtful for a while but then, Garima had unexpectedly acquiesced so that the other two women could not say otherwise.

They had wanted to send Anjali along, but her cousin had declined though she did not say why. So, Khushi had gone by herself, exhilaration overflowing her heart surreptitiously. In a way, she was glad Anjali was not coming. She told Paramji to wait for her outside and ran up the stairs to the mandir. So far Barun was not in sight. The mandir was completely deserted.

A little disappointed, she deposited her flowers at the deity's feet and folded her hands together, eyes closed, to pray. That day, even the priest was not there. He usually came in the morning, stayed there for a couple of hours and left, only to return in the afternoon, before the great aarti. Khushi knitted her brows together as she sensed a presence near her. When she opened her eyes, the person she had been waiting for was by her side, his head bowed in prayer.

There was a gentle smile playing on his lips, which caused one to be born on her face too. She waited for him to finish, her heart sauntering impatiently. Finally, he turned to her, his hazel orbs twinkling with mirth.

"Khushi," he whispered, as if he could not believe she was really there.

She gave a short, breathless laugh before he engulfed her small hands in his. "Maine tumhaare liye rishta bheja tha," he mumbled. "Koyi javaab nahin aaya." (I had sent a proposal for you. I never got an answer.)

"Ma aur Badi Ma ne humaare liye kissi aur ko chun liya," she explained. Her eyes had filled with tears. She couldn't tell him the truth. It was most probable that he had been chucked because of his caste but maybe he already knew that... (My mother and Garima Ma chose someone else for me.)

Barun shook his head. "Mujhe farak nahin padta. Mujhe sirf yeh pata hai ke main tumse pyaar karta hoon, aur shaadi tumse hi karounga." (I don't care. I just know that I love you, and I will marry you.

"Lekin..." Khushi bit her lip worriedly. (But...)

"Tum chinta mat karo," he hushed her anxiety, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Jab tumhaari shaadi ki tareek pakki hojaye, to tum Paramji ko bata dena. Main unse milta rahounga. Tumhaari shaadi se theek ek din pehle hum bhaag jaayenge. Okay?" (Don't worry. When your wedding date is fixed, tell Paramji. I'll be meeting him. We'll run away a day before you're married. Okay?)

She looked at him uncertainly. Could she do this? Did she dare break the rules and her mothers' hearts and run away with him? Could she abandon Anjali? She frowned pensively biting her lip. She had to take a decision...

Khushi looked up at him in his eyes and saw what she needed. Silently she gave him a nod in guise of her assent...

***

"Anjali! Khushi! Aap dono taiyyaar hui ke nahin?" Madhu yelled as she pushed her way through the corridor. (...Are the two of you ready or not?)

Anjali's room, where the girls were getting ready, was brimming with female cousins and friends, chattering and giggling. Madhu shooed them all away so that only her two nieces remained. She looked at the stunning girls and couldn't believe how they had grown up so quickly. Anjali wore a sky blue benarasi saree, decorated with silver leaves at the border. Khushi's was a benarasi too, violet tinged like an early dawn and embellished with pale golden threads which formed beautiful peacocks.

They wore simple jewellery and still it did no injustice to their beauty. Soon, Rama and Garima were also there to bless their daughters and remove the evil eyes. They left them after a while saying that they would soon be summoned for the ceremony. Once alone, Anjali noticed her sister seemed happier than usual.

"Khushi?" she smiled. "Kuchh hua hai kya?" (...Something happened?)

"Kyun?" Khushi frowned with a laugh; a contrast which boggled her cousin's mind.(Why?)

"Tum aaj bohot ziaada hi khush lag rahi ho." (You look very happy today.)

Khushi grinned bashfully but before she could reply, a group of girls barged in to fetch them downstairs.

***

Anjali was the elder, so Khushi had requested the mothers that her engagement was conducted first. She stood near her sister, smiling but avoiding Shyaam at all costs. She did catch her own fiance looking at her a few times but his expression leaked none of his actual emotions. She had no way of knowing what could be going on in his mind. But she had to talk to him about Barun.

Though she had agreed to run away a day before her wedding, she felt some sort of inexplicable tie to Arnav which made the idea of deceiving him painfully repulsive. She felt it was her duty to tell him before doing anything. Of course before the ceremony, it would be impossible but she definitely had to talk to him after that. At some point, she had seen him talk to Badi Ma with an anxious face while her aunt nodded calmly. Khushi fiddled with the edge of her pallu, feeling his eyes burn her skin as Anjali got engaged with a brilliant laughter.

When it was her turn, her cousins pushed her ahead so that she bumped unexpectedly against her fiance's hard frame. She thought it would irritate him but on the contrary, he gave her a half-smile that shocked her. He took her hand in his larger and warmer one, his eyes fixated on hers. For some unknown and very intriguing reason, she was unable to look away. It was as if he had gotten into her brain and was in full control of it.

She felt the cool ring on her finger as he slipped it on, then her mother's hand, giving her his ring. Rama's urgings acted violently, making her snap and she looked down immediately, heat creeping up her cheeks. He offered her his hand. It was striking, the way their hands were so different. She realised it when her eyes were downcast and she made her wear the ring.

His was large, tanned, stronger; hers small, white and frail-looking. She bit her lip as the ring reached its rightful place and the guests exploded in cheers. She felt herself turn red as he bent to brush a kiss against her cheek. Then, they both took the blessings of the mothers and his Dadi, who, for the first time, smiled at her. She affectionately slid a pair of heavy gold kangans on Khushi's wrist.

"Yeh humne apni bahu ko diye the," she spoke softly, looking at her future daughter-in-law's face appreciatively. "Ab aapko de rahe hain. Asha hai ke aap iss khaandaan ka maan rakkheingi." (I had given these to my daughter-in-law. Now I'm giving them to you. I hope you will live up to the family's reputation.)

Her words made Khushi's wound open up more fiercely. There were so many hopes pinned on her. how could she break all these peoples trust?

***

One moment she had been pulled away for some photographs, and her fiance was already missing. She scanned the room for him, but he was not there. Khushi seized Madhu Ma's hand.

"Madhu Ma, aapne Arnavji ko kahin dekha hai? Humein unse kuchh baat karni thi," she asked hurriedly. (Madhu Ma, did you see Arnavji? I had to talk to him.)

Her aunt thought a bit before she remembered. "Arrey haan! Damaad babu ne Garima se thodi der pehle bol diya tha. Unhein koyi urgent meeting hain, jaana pada. Abhi abhi nikle hain, Bitiya, door nahin gaye honge." (Oh, yes! he had told Garima he had an urgent meeting so he had to go. He's just left, he must not be too far.)

Khushi nodded and rushed through the throngs of guests as fast as she could. She had to talk to him. She found Arnav outside, heading towards a sleek black car and surrounded by half a dozen of men dressed in dark suits.

"Arnavji!" she called his name, slightly out of breath, stopping several steps behind him. He turned, surprised to see her there but with a wordless wave of the hand, he dismissed all his men, who disappeared into the cars parked there.

Frowning, Arnav closed the distance between them. "Khushi?" he said her name uncertainly. "Kya hua?" (What happened?)

"Aap jaa rahe hain?" she mumbled innocently, in a way that brought a smile to his handsome face. He nodded, waiting for her continue. "Humein aapse baat karni thi..." (Are you going? I had to talk to you.)

Her fiance sighed. "Sorry. Mujhe jaana hi hoga. Do-teen din mein vaapas aaounga. Usske baad milte hain?" (Sorry. I have to go. I'll return in two or three days. then we'll meet?)

Khushi gulped nervously. The next time they'd meet would only be at the mandap, and then, it would be much too late... "Lekin-" she started protesting as her eyes filled up but he stopped her by raising his hand to gently caress her cheek. (But-)

Arnav rested his palm on her satiny skin, his fingers brushing into her dark hair, and pulled her near him to press a gentle kiss on her forehead, right where he would fill her maang with sindoor in a couple of weeks, as it had been decided.

"Apna khayaal rakkhna," he whipered, still smiling at her as he backed away and moved to his awaiting car. Khushi stood there, staring into the night even after his departure, frozen by his simple gesture. (Take care.)

She walked back inside, lost in her dilemma. She had not been able to talk to him. Her conscience kept accusing her.

"Dekhiye samdhanji!" she heard a voice drift in the empty corridor from Badi Ma's room. Its familiarity made her stop. "Dahej to humne sirf apne bete ki maankar thukraaya hai." (Look Garimaji! We have refused from taking the dowry just because of out son.)

Anjali's father-in-law to-be?

"Lekin sun lijiye! Hum ek izzatdaar khaandaan hain! Dhyaan rakkhiye ke aapke parivaar ka maan bhi kaayam rahe, varna hum aapki beti se rishta tod bhi sakte hain, chaahe voh shaadi se pehle ho ha shaadi ke baad." (But listen to me very carefully! We are respectable people! Make sure that your family name is not involved in any kind of scandal, or else we can break all ties with your daughter, may it be before the wedding or after.)

Khushi felt light-headed all of a sudden. Skiving the party, she went directly up to her room and changed. She knew her heart was beating fast, but she didn't feel it. She just felt hot and cold both at the same time. Mr Jha's words kept echoing in her mind.

Eloping with Barun would put her sister's marriage in jeopardy.

She loved him, but she loved her sister even more. And she had not missed the looks Anjali gave Shyaam. Anjali was head over heels in love. Could she afford to destroy that for her own happiness?

***

The following morning, she didn't wake up. For waking up, she needed to sleep first, but Khushi had not had an inkling of sleep. She went to her roses. She would have to skip breakfast, as because of the turmoil she was in, she could not trust her stomach to hold anything steadily for now. Her roses got her tender and full attention and in return, she got them to soothe her wounds; they helped her forget her worries even if for a while.

When she had calmed down enough, she watched the outhouse where Badi Ma had lodged Paramji for a while as she mustered her courage. He opened the door shortly after she had knocked. The elderly man beamed at her. Khushi steeled herself as impassibly as she could.

"Unse keh dijiye ke humein bhool jayein," she firmly told the driver, whose smile fell as though dissolved in a strong, highly concentrated acid. "Humaare liye humaari behen ki khushiyan zyaada maayne rakhti hai. Unse kahiye ke voh humein maaf karein aur humein bhool jaayein." (Tell him to forget me. My sister's happiness is more important to me than my own. Tell him to forgive me and forget me.)

"Lekin Bitiya..." Param's voice died in his throat as the girl turned and walked back to the house. (But daughter...)

She paused halfway through her first step ahead. "Paramji... unhein samjha dijiyega. Hum ab unse nahin mil sakte." (Paramji... make him understand. I can no longer meet him now.)

***

Surprisingly, she did not shed a single tear. She had cried a lot the previous night, but that flood, it seemed, had strengthened her or else, it had emptied her of all emotions. She sat with her mothers and some aunts as they discussed the wedding plans. Anjali was right beside her but they didn't talk. It was then only that Khushi realised how much the distance had grown between them ever since their marriages had been fixed. They had hardly spoken to each other over the past few days and in less than two more weeks, they would both be married into their respective homes, completely torn away.

She caught her sister's eye. Anjali smiled at her quietly, the awkwardness piercing her battered heart. They had never been this silent. Never. Khushi and Anjali had always been the inseparable pair, always chatting their secrets to each other, always planning something together. And now...

Khushi had just taken one of the biggest decisions of her life without Anjali getting wind of anything. Until less than a month earlier, she would do nothing without her dearest cousin's approval. She boldly mangled her hand in Anjali's and got up with her in tow. It was now or never. She had to talk to her sister.

***

"Kya hua, Khushi? Tum aise uth ke yahaan kyun chali aayi?" Anjali observed her sister worriedly. Only the last night, before the engagement, Khushi had looked so radiant and now, she again resembled a wilted flower. (What happened, Khushi? Why did you leave so suddenly?)

Khushi engulfed her in a tight embrace. "Hum dono ki shaadi ho rahi hai, Anji," she whispered, her throat now simply an acute ache that bound her head to the rest of what was her. (We are both getting married, Anji.)

Anjali rubbed her sister's back, feeling her tears surge at the realization Khushi had just had. They stayed this way for a long time to absorb each other's presence, memories from their childhood to adulthood whirling about them like dry leaves in a gust of wind. It was the eldest who pulled back first, to look at her younger cousin's face and to find her eyes startlingly dry.

"Khushi? Sab theek to hai, na?" (...Everything is fine?)

The girl nodded and smiled sadly. "Hum bhagvaan se praarthna kareinge, ke tum hamesha apne pati ke saath khush raho." (I'll pray that you always remain happy with your husband.)

"Hum bhi tumhaare liye yahi to chaahate hain, pagli!" Anjali cupped Khushi's face affectionately. "Lekin, Khushi, kya tumhein lagta hai ke tum Arnavji se saath khush reh paaogi?" (I want the same for you, silly! But, Khushi, do you think you'll ever be happy with Arnavji?)

As her smile faded, she looked down at the floor, gripping Anjali's hand tightly in reassurance. "Jitna humne unhein jaana hai, Anju, voh ek achhe insaan hai-" (The way I know him, Anju, he's very nice-)

Her cousin made her look up. "Humein yeh mat bataao ke voh kaise hain! Humein bhi yahi laga ke voh ek bohot hi ache insaan hain. Tum humein yeh bataao, kyat um iss shaadi mein khush reh paaogi?" (Don't tell me how you think he is! I also know he's a very nice person. I want to know if you think you'll be happy with him?)

"Hum unki khushi mein apni khushi dhoondh leinge," came the weak reply. (I'll find my happiness in his.)

Anjali stared at her little sister in awe. How could she be doing this? How could she be sacrificing so much so selflessly? And why? For the family's reputation? She wiped her damp cheeks and looked at Khushi straight in the eye.

"Khushi, tum Barun ke saath bhaag jaao!" (Khushi, run away with Barun!)

The latter's eyes widened in shock at her words but for Anjali, the most important thing for now was not what the society wanted, but where her sister's happiness was.

"Tum baaki sab ki chinta mat karo, hum samjha deinge. Tum jaao!" (Forget about the rest, I'll give the explanations. You go!)

Waves of disbelief were crashing over Khushi. Did Anjali even know what she was saying? Not only she was sentencing their family of a life-long stain of shame, but she was also putting her marriage, her love at stake. She realised that by marrying Arnav, she would lose Barun forever but she was limiting the damage.

She would probably break Barun's heart, her own heart but she would strive all she could to make her marriage work and keep Arnav happy. She would make the mothers proud. But if she followed her sister's advice, there would be nothing but disaster.

The Guptas would be maligned perpetually. The Jhas would break the alliance, thus giving Anjali a heart break and after that, there would perhaps be no boy who would want to marry her. The mothers would be a wreck. She would break more hearts, lose more people. Anjali had already lost her father, before she could be born into this cruel world because of her own father's folly. Khushi's father had heard of some treasure hidden in the Himalayas, the sense of adventure had beckoned him and he had dragged along Garima's husband. Both men had died in an avalanche.

Could Khushi let more unhappiness to Anjali, after all the undue respect and love she had gotten from her? Could Khushi be as selfish as her father?

She shook her head. To her own thoughts and to Anjali's words. She would not be selfish. She would never be like that man who had fathered her only to die without seeing her face. Still shaking her head, Khushi backed against the closed door of Anjali's room before she turned to push the door open and run.

***

A couple of days later, the sun rose to see the wedding preparations had already begun. The Gupta Haveli was crammed with close relatives come from all over India. Widows were traditionally not allowed to take part in nor attend the ceremonies. The Jha family was quite strict upon that, but with all three mothers being widows, they had bent slightly, most probably at their son's bidding, and allowed the mothers to at least attend.

Subhadra Raizada, on the other hand, showed no objection. She was herself a widow and she wanted to fully participate in as many ceremonies as possible as it was the wedding of her only grandson. Garima and Manorama left for their daughters' respective future in-laws for the ashirbaad while Madhu stayed back at the Haveli to managed everything and she could also be with her two nieces.

Khushi and Anjali had shooed away all their teasing cousins to get ready by themselves like in the older times. Khushi was finally able to smile and even laugh, but that only lasted when she was alone with her sister because all the other people, all the other things reminded her of what she was going to lose...

Their mothers returned some hours later from the boys' places with enlarged parties, as the ladkewaale had accompanied them back for their part of the ceremony. The same afternoon, they held a sangeet and mehendi rasam in guise of the aai bhudo bhaat.

"Sirf yehi milega?" Anjali shrieked in horror, making Rama flinch. (Is this all we'll get?)

Garima laughed joyfully. "Haan, sirf yehi milega!" (Yes, only this!)

"Poore din ke liye?" the girl asked again as she allowed one of her cousins to slide the shakha and paula around her wrists. She scowled when her mother nodded again. "Yeh kaisi ziaakti kar rahe hain aap dulhan ke saath? Itni kadi garmi hai aur khaane mein yeh pheekha dahi waala chaaval? Hum to mar jaayenge, Ma!" (For the whole day? What kind of torture is this? It's so hot and you'll give us just this curd-rice to eat? I'll die, Ma!)

"Chup kar, nautanki kahin ki!" Madhu reprimanded her as she got up to go supervise the tasks in the kitchen. "Khushi se seekho, dekho kaise ache se sab ki baat maan rahi hai!" (Shut up, dramatic girl! Learn from Khushi, see how she listens to everyone!)

Anjali's face fell as she shifted her gaze to her sister who sat to her right. Khushi's grief was almost tangible. It was already the day of their marriage, she realised with a pang. Why hadn't Khushi agreed to elope with Barun? Anjali bit her lip tersely, the joy and laughter ringing around the haveli unnerving her. How could these people be so happy when one of the brides was not?

She looked up to find Khushi flashing a comforting but still sad smile at her before turning away to take another morsel of the curd rice...

***

Khushi, for her part, kept looking at the two bangles that had just been added to each of her wrists alongside the kangans her future husband's Dadiji had given her for most of the time. From the day she had spoken to Paramji, she had been avoiding eye contact with most of the people around her. But thankfully, this gesture of hers had been taken for shyness because of her approaching wedding.

The previous day, Shyaam had called Anjali to speak to her but it was Khushi who had answered it first. To her great relief, he had apologised for what he had said when they had first met. He told her he had been irrational and that he liked her sister. That had lit a little flame of happiness in Khushi. At least Anjali would be happy now that the misunderstanding was cleared.

But it didn't mean she had reached the end of her troubles. Paramji had come to talk to her while she had been watering her rose bushes. He said Barun had been pretty upset and had sent her a letter, which Khushi had opened only in the sanctuary of her room. The older man was just their family driver but he was very concerned for the girl. All these things were taking a toll on her. That was the first time, maybe the only time, she had spoken harshly to someone. She had told Paramji, the sweet old Paramji who had helped Anjali and her so many times, to keep away from her matters.

Of course, she had regretted her behaviour but the wrong had already been done. She could still see the hurt on his face. "Pyaar ko khone gham humse ziaada aur koyi nahin jaanta, Khushi Bitiya," he had muttered before turning back to the outhouse. Guilty, Khushi had steeled herself hand hid the piece of paper in her dupatta as she walked back inside. (No one knows the pain of losing love better than me, child.)

She had already opened it, once inside her room but before reading it, she had changed her mind. The letter was crumpled in her fist, the previous ones removed from their hiding places and all of them were burnt in the flame of the diya she had lit for her Devi Maiyya. It had hurt to do that, but she had made herself understand that she could no longer belong to Barun. So what was the use of keeping his letters?

***

The two sisters sat in the loveseat that had been placed in the room where they were supposed to wait to be called in the mandap, clutching each other's hands tight in apprehension of what was going to happen, the agonizing separation whose effect was already visible in their tear-glazed eyes. They sat there in silence, it was enough for them.

Anjali's eyes trailed on the silk saree, the traditional off-white with a thick golden and red border. Both of them were dressed similarly, with a red gauzy chaddar, embellished with white stones and gold vines, their jewellery matching. It was a decision they had taken together since years ago, that they would marry on the same day and that they would put on the same attire.

What they had not thought about at that time was that if they would get wedded on the same day, at the same time, they would not get the opportunity to attend the other's wedding ceremony. They had not realised it until now, but there was nothing they could change. As they sat there, all the preparations had been made and their grooms were being welcomed at the door. A few seconds earlier, a niece of theirs had erupted in the room, squealing in her adorable seven year old voice that the jijajis had arrived.

It had just made Khushi tighten her hold on her sister's hands, eyes wide but void. This house, where they had been born, where they had grown up, they were leaving it forever. Maybe they would visit again, but it would never be the same, would it? Anjali gulped heavily, trying to refrain herself from sobbing. The mothers entered the room gloomily to speak to the girls one last time before they ceased to belong to here.

"Ek ladki ka janam teen baar hota hai," Garima explained, taking their young hands in her wrinkled ones. "Pehli baar jab voh beti bankar iss sansaar mein aati hai, doosri baar jab voh shaadi karke apne pati ke ghar jaati hai aur teesri jab voh maa banti. Sab se kathin hota hai, ek patni ka kartavya nibhaana. Isske liye bohot saahas ki zaroorat hoti hai. Hum teenon ne jo milkar tumhein sikhaaya hai, voh ache se yaad rakkhna..." (A girl is born three times. First as a daughter when she comes to this world, second when she gets married and becoms a wife and last when she become a mother. The most difficult one is being a wife. You will need a lot of patience. Remember well what the three of us have taught you...)

Her voice broke into a teary gasp and she turned away, letting Rama come forward to silently kiss their foreheads. Khushi hugged her mother one last time. However Manorama could be, she was her own mother and maybe she did care for her daughter somewhere. Madhumati engulfed her nieces in a warm, tearful embrace.

"Khush rehna, bitiya," she whispered before letting go. (Always be happy.)

It was time...

***

It was already over, Anjali realised, as the priest pronounced them husband and wife. They now had to touch the elders' feet and take their blessings. She glanced at Khushi, not very far from her, linked with Arnav Singh Raizada for life. Her sister was in the mandap right next to her own and with her husband, she was already bending.

Unknown to Khushi, her white handkerchief had slipped from between her fingers. Each bride had been given one, with the first letter of their name embroidered onto it, to wipe the sweat as they were going to sit on a crowded room, right in front of the fire. Just as Anjali was about to call her sister back, she saw her husband, Shyaam Manohar Jha, crouch, right in front of her eyes - maybe thinking she would not see because a cousin was chattering with her, and picked up the piece of cloth.

She waited for him to hand it back to Khushi, but he pocketed it, freezing his new wife on the spot with horror. Anjali felt her mind reel, swirl, numb. Suddenly a sharp nausea hit her. She completed all the remaining formalities but her mind was not really there. Had she seen it right? Had her husband really kept her own sister's handkerchief?

***

"Tu uss ladki ke saath hamesha kyun rehti hai?" Peehu Mami asked her sardonically, her face a mask of disgust for Khushi who was running upstairs for her mother had called her. (Why do you always stay with that girl?)

"Kaun, Khushi?" a seven year old Anjali smirked up at her aunt. "Voh humaari behen hai! Hum hamesha saath rehte hain. Khushi humse bohot pyaar karti hai, aur hum bhi unse!" (Who, Khushi? She's my sister! We are always together. Khushi loves me a lot and I her!)

Peehu gave her a dry, humourless laugh. "Ha! Tu abhi nahin samajhegi, Bitiya! Voh ladki tujhse ziaada sundar hai. Usske saath itna mat raha karo." (Ha! You won't understand this now. She's prettier than you. Don't spend too much time with her.)

"Nahin! Khushi humaari behen hai! Aur voh humse bhi ziaada sundar huyi to kya hua? Humein pata hai ke Khushi bohot sundar hai, uss se kuchh nahin badlega!"(No! Khushi is my sister! And what if she's prettier than me? I know it, it doesn't change anything!)

The child got another dose of that same cold laughter before her Mami stood up and looked down at her. "Tu naadaan hai, Anjali. Ek din jab tera koyi apna tujhse ziaada ussko pasand karega, jab tujhe jalan ka pehla ehsaas hoga, tab tujhe meri baat yaad ayegi." (You are innocent, Anjali. One day when someone you love will prefer her to you, when you'll have the first feeling of jealousy, then you'll remember me.)

Anjali pulled her tongue at the woman who walked away from her. Peehu Mami was crazy. How could Anjali ever feel jealous of Khushi, her sister, her other half? That day would never come, she thought with a determined pout.

***

While they all walked inside for whatever ritual was remaining, Anjali felt herself being sucked deeper and deeper in a kind of haze. She felt betrayed to the core. Not just by the man she had fallen in love with and married minutes ago, but by the sister she had cherished and know since even before birth. The sister she had called into this world with her anguished cries.

She could no longer smile at the people around her, who were expecting her to. She could no longer recognise anyone. Not even Khushi. Not even Shyaam. What had she done to deserve this? Her husband, her husband was besotted with her sister?

Suddenly, a loathing rose in her. Not directed at Shyaam but at Khushi.

Khushi, who had held herself responsible for the folly her father had committed by killing himself and Anjali's father. Khushi, who had always supported Anjali. Khushi, who had demanded equal punishment as her sister for every mistake Anjali had made. Khushi, who had always heeded to Anjali. Khushi, who had gone to the cinema despite knowing the consequences that would follow so that Anjali would not be alone. Khushi, who had lost her right to education and been dragged into an unwanted marriage because of the mess Anjali had thrown her into. Khushi, who had sacrificed her happiness and love for her dearest sister, Anjali...

As the door closed behind them, Khushi noted how beautiful her sister looked now, with the red colour in her parting and she felt a feeble ray of contentment tickle her. Now, at least one of them would be happy...

Without looking once at her, Anjali walked over to one of the mirrors and hastily started removing her heavy jewellery. The brides had been told to change as their attire was too cumbersome for their comfort. Their grooms had respectively brought them a new saree each, and they were to wear that to their sasuraals. They changed in a sort of uncomfortable silence that Khushi could not understand. Hadn't they been sitting in the same room, their hands linked tight with apprehension while they awaited their grooms to arrive only moments ago? Hadn't they been the best sisters in the world all along?

What had happened now? How had marriage come in between them? And this much? That her sister wouldn't even look at her? Biting her lower lip, Khushi came up behind Anjali and placed her hand on her shoulder, whispering her name. Anjali jumped briskly and stepped several feet away, her eyes cold.

"Kya hua?" Khushi whispered, hurt at the response. Anjali blinked and looked away. (What happened?)

"Hum chalte hain," she replied in an icy tone. But her sister grabbed her hand as she walked past to the door. (I'll leave.)

"Kya hua, Anjali? Tum aisa kyun kar rahi ho?" Khushi pleaded to know, her eyes welling up with burning tears. (What happened Anjali? Why are you behaving like this?)

She saw her elder sibling's eyes close to compress her fury and her jaw tighten. Anjali snatched her hand away. "Jaise ki tumhein pata nahin?" she gritted out scathingly. Khushi frowned, suddenly feeling dizzy. Why was her sweet sister being so venomous? (As if you don't know?)

"Humaara pati chheen kar bohot khush hogi, na, tum? Ab humein akela chhod do! Humein tumhaare jhuthe pyaar ki koyi zaroorat nahin hai," Anjali told her icily before she stormed out of the room, leaving Khushi petrified there. (You must be very happy after snatching my husband's affections, right? Now leave me alone! I don't need your false love!)

What had just happened? Had Anjali really accused her of such a vile thing? Stealing her husband? Where had that come from? Where had her Anjali gone? How had she changed in so little time? While her tears left scalding tracks down her cheeks, she felt herself slide to the ground, curled up on her knees.

Even a little joy had been too much to ask. On this day, she had sacrificed all she had, and she had lost everything. Her love, her family and now, her sister. Fate was such a cruel thing...

***

She saw Anjali's eyes turn to chips of ice as soon as they settled on her, but Khushi managed to smile through her tears and she stepped forward to embrace her sister in a tight, warm hug. She couldn't just forget the past eighteen years just because Anjali might had misinterpreted something and said some hurtful words, could she? She felt her twin's arms wrap around her almost reluctantly, before she finally reciprocated with an equally fierce hug. Maybe for just that last moment on the home they had grown up in as two princesses, she had decided to forget that misunderstanding... Maybe for just that last moment, she had wanted to find again that girl who had been her dear sister for all these years...

And as Khushi pulled back to gently wipe her tears away, Anjali realized how wrong she had been in her judgment. Of course Khushi was not to be blamed for what her husband had done. Perhaps she didn't even know. How could she have said those things to her? But the arrow was out of her control now, and although Khushi's eyes showed nothing but affection, Anjali understood that she had been forgiven but she had also hurt her sister deeply. In a way, she had lost her... She wanted to apologise, at least once, but it was too late. There were already too many people, too many things between them, and she could not even see Khushi anymore...

Khushi's eyes widened in panic. One moment she had been looking at her sister, and the next, a crowd of relatives and guests had pulled up as a barrier between them. She tried to look through the mass frantically but she found no one she knew. Instead, warmth enveloped her right hand and she looked up in fright, only to be dazzled by a pair of the kindest chocolate brown eyes that belonged to her husband.

Her husband. It felt so odd to be married, she realised, staring at him. Calmness seeped in when he gave her a small half-smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly, as if to tell her he was there for her. Khushi teared up instantly. What was the use? She did not need to attach herself to this person too much. He would leave her like everyone else in her life did. Especially when she had told him about Barun... What kind of husband would want a wife who loved another?

She lowered her eyes, her cheeks burning with shame, letting him lead her to the car which waited to take them to his home. Her new home. Their home... No. This would never be, because he would soon hate her too. Like Anjali did now...

***

All night, Khushi lay restless in bed. She had not been allowed to stay in Arnav's company for one single moment. Under Dadi's strict orders, the bride and the groom had been ushered into separate room for the night and she had explained to them that the day must have been pretty tiring and what they needed for the time was some sleep. The next day, would be Khushi's Muh dikhaayi, where only women would be allowed and which spelled that Arnav would be again forced to stay away. Then, she would have to cook the dinner and serve it herself as thenayi bahu of the Raizadas.

So it was only at dinner that they would be together, but then too, they would be surrounded by many people. The only time she would be able to talk to him would be at night. The night that was supposed to be their suhaag raat...

***

Khushi sat on the bed uncomfortably, the heavy jewellery irritating her. Things had gone well till now. Her cooking skills had been greatly appreciated and Dadi had not stopped praising her at all during the evening. Now, she eyed the door of the room nervously, waiting for the instant when it would burst open with the loud giggles of the female relatives and her husband would been pushed inside.

But none of that happened. Everything was silent when the door was opened. Arnav came in and closed the door behind him. Her stomach lurched when he locked the door. This was so frightening, her heart was thrumming like mad. She closed her eyes tight while he approached her. At once, her heartbeat picked up speed and it was all she could hear beside the sounds of his footsteps. She felt acutely conscious of herself.

The mattress caved in slightly where he sat, very close to her and Khushi's breaths became quicker, shallower. When he felt his hand close around hers, something in her snapped and before she could realise what her mind had propelled her into, her eyes had snapped open and she had jumped off the bed, panting a bit.

She turned away, embarrassed, and pressed her palms against the wooden window sill, her gaze wandering on the view below her while her mind groped for the right words. She felt him stand, maybe disappointed by her behaviour, and he came near to her to look down too.

"I understand..." he mumbled uneasily. "Yeh sab tumhaare liye naya hai to-" (... All of this is so new for you-)

Khushi bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Could she bury that secret in her heart and deceive her husband for the whole of their married life? Or should she tell him the truth? She did not expect to get anything. And she had nothing to lose either...

Slowly, she looked up at him, into those earnest dark pools that she would soon fill with hatred for her. "Humein aapse kuchh kehna hai, Arnavji," she whispered. Worry clouded his face and he lowered his head slightly. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she blurted it out. "Hum kissi aur se pyaar karte hain..." (I have to tell you something, Arnavji. I love someone else...)

Arnav Singh Raizada froze. There was no emotion on his face. She tried to make out what he could be thinking right now, but she got no hint, so she told him her story. She told him how she had met Barun, how things had taken a sudden turn in her life, how and why she had given in... His expression revealed nothing of what his mind whirred about and she stared at him quietly, munching on her lip as guilt gnawed at her. She wanted him to say something, to scold her, to curse her to be cold to her like Anjali had been the previous day. She had ruined his life. He had all the rights to hate her.

But he didn't. He stood there, his eyes fixed on the ground, his face void of any feeling. It made her feel guiltier than ever.

"Arnavji," she dared herself to whisper as another tear slipped down her cheek.

Without looking at her, he took a few steps towards the bed to take a pillow. Then, he went over to the recliner near the French doors that opened on the balcony. He paused halfway there and turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder briefly.

"So jaao," he told her evenly before he dumped the pillow on the recliner had settled there for sleep, his face turned away from her. (Go to sleep.)

Khushi watched him for a few seconds. Strangely, the rejection hurt her more than she had expected it to. Maybe it was because of the hurt she had already suffered during the past few days and her heart was so wounded that the least cold breeze would cause it to sting... Almost mechanically, she removed her jewellery before she lay down to sleep. But sleep was something that had also abandoned her. The night was spent with tears flowing silently, mourning the loss of so much, amongst all this, the sister she had cherished above all, and the husband she had barely known...

She sat there miserably, regretting each of her venomous words. She had never wanted to say that to Khushi. She had never wanted this. She had always thought they would be inseparable. But look what marriage had done to them.

Anjali had been drowning in guilt since the crowd had curtained Khushi from her view that night. She had said all those horrible things and never apologised. The day had been bad for her. She had burned the palak paneer, and though her mother-in-law had consoled her, the news had somehow reached her father-in-law who had started to insult her until Shyaam had interfered, taking her side vigorously.

Now as she sat waiting for her husband, she let her thoughts flow to him. Was what she had seen in the mandap the night of the wedding simply an illusion? Or was it true? Because Shyaam had not shown her the least bit of disappointment. He had smiled and winked at her every opportunity he got. He had even made a move to catch her hand or brush his against her by 'accident' during dinner... Had she been so wrong?

Just then, the door of the room was opened with a loud burst of feminine giggles and Shyaam was pushed in. Someone closed the door behind him and Anjali heard the click of the lock. But she continued staring at her clasped hands while sensing her husband crossing the room towards her. The jewellery was feeling heavy, the clothing was scratchy but thankfully, if what Rama Ma had said was true, it would all come off...

And suddenly, that brought her thoughts to Khushi again. It was her suhaag raat also, wasn't it? what could have happened? Her sister did not love Arnav...

Shyaam gently sat down beside her. Anjali expected him to reach out for her hand, as she had heard from her friends, the grooms usually did. But he did not. Instead, he cupped her chin and made her look at him. His eyes were full of love as he contemplated her silently for some time, before he finally bent and kissed her forehead.

"I have waited for so long for this night, Anjali," he whispered against her cheek. She shut her eyes tight, feeling his hands run up to unpin her ghunghat from her hair. One by one, he took off her jewellery, replacing each with a soft kiss that made her shudder and forget everything else. He untied her hair, letting the long dark tresses fall free from the bun to bunch it in his fist and brought his lips crashing to hers.

Boldly, she slipped her hands onto his shoulders and clung to him. Had she been right to doubt him? Maybe not. Maybe she had imagined everything...

***

She should have woken up at five like Badi Ma had said. But she didn't. There was no need to. She hadn't slept for an instant the whole night. When the first ray of sun cracked into the room, piercing through the darkness like a single but strong thread of light, Khushi sat up in bed to find her husband already awake. Or perhaps, like her, he had not slept either...

Arnav was sitting on the couch where he had spent the night, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands linked tight in apprehension as he frowned thoughtfully at the ground. Khushi stared at him uneasily, unsure of what to do. Should she get down from the bed? Should she speak to him? But would he listen to her? She could at least try.

Carefully, she slipped off the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, but her bangles jingled, making his head snap up to her. She noticed how tired he look and felt ashamed. All because of her. maybe she should not have told him anything. But her soul cursed her immediately. Not only she would have betrayed him then, but also, what would happen if he learnt about Barun from another person?

Her breath caught in her throat when their eyes met and she saw his lips move soundlessly but she did recognise they were shaping her name. She gulped heavily, her eyes welling up. Arnav got to his feet and walked to her very slowly.

"Tum uth gayi? Baat karni hai," he croaked almost painfully. She bit her lip with a stiff nod and he held her shoulders to make her sit back on the bed before he sat down too. (You are awake? We have to talk.)

"Khushi..." he licked his lips, avoiding to look at her at all costs. "I... Kal raat... mera reaction sahi nahin tha... I'm sure I hurt because of that but mujhe pata nahin tha ke main kya kahoun, kya karoun..." (...Last night... my reaction was not right... [...]but I didn't know what do do, what to say...)

Khushi felt her eyes widen. She had expected him to talk to her sooner or later but she had not expected this. What was he doing? She was the one who had hurt him, why was he apologising for his completely justified behaviour? What she needed him to do was shout at her, curse her, hate her for destroying his life. That was what she deserved.

"Kya tum... Khushi, tumhein lagta hai key eh shaadi karke tum khush rahogi?" he asked her gently, making her look up, and when she did, he was looking in her eyes with the most honest expression that made her feel even more guilty. "Agar tum chaaho to main tumhein divorce de sakta houn. Tum Barun se shaadi karna chaaho to main tumhaara saath dounga." (Will you... Khushi, do you think you'll be happy in this marriage? If you want I can give you a divorce. And if you want to marry Barun I will help you.)

She gasped at the mention of divorce. That was blasphemy for her. Her husband frowned slightly, tilting his head towards her. "Kya hua?" he asked. (What happened?)

"Shaadi saat janmon ka bandhan hota hai, yeh humne bachpan se seekha hai," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "Aap talaak ki baat kaise kar sakte hain?"(Since I was a child, I have been told that marriage is a bond that stretches over seven lives. How can you speak of a divorce?)

He gave her a small but charming smile and Khushi realised he was really very handsome. "To tum apni saari khushi, apni poori life iss myth ke liye sacrifice karogi?" (So you will sacrifice all your happiness on this myth?)

She shook her head. "Hum khush raheinge. Aap humein ek mauka dijiye, hum aapko kabhi shikaayat karne ka mauka nahin deinge. Aapko jo chaahiye hum aapko deinge. Hum iss shaadi ko kaamiyaab karne ke liye kuchh bhi kareinge. Aap bas... aap bas talaak ki baat phir kabhi mat kijiye..." (I will be happy. Give me a chance, I'll never let you complain. I'll do whatever you want. I'll make this marriage work. Just... you just don't speak of divorce again...)

Arnav stared at her in wonder. She knew she was practically begging, but she had no other choice. It would be easier for him to wash her off his hands with a simple divorce. But for her? society, her family, no one would ever accept her. Anjali's father-in-law's threat also came back to her mind. And there was another thing.

Khushi really wanted to make this work. She wanted to have that perfect family she had always dreamed of, even though, recently, the man of her dreams had been Barun. Arnav Singh Raizada was a good man. And if he did accept her, she would keep her promise. She would be the best wife possible to him, she would do anything for him.

She closed her eyes in fear. She did not think he would agree to her plea. God himself had not been listening to her these last few months, how could she expect this mere mortal to?

"Khushi?" he called her softly and she opened her eyes to let one tear drip down her cheek. She felt him wipe it off before it could stain her delicate skin and she looked at him with troubled eyes. He was smiling. "Okay, main phir kabhi divorce ki baat nahin karounga. Lekin meri ek shart hai." (... Okay, I won't ever speak of divorce again. But I have a condition.)

Her lips parted in surprise. Was he agreeing? She released a shaky breath, realising that he did mean it. He wanted to make this marriage successful as much as she wanted it to. And about the condition? She would do anything. She nodded.

"Sunne se pehle hi maan gayi. Baad mein pachtaaogi nahin?" He chuckled when she shook her head in the negative. "Hum pati-patni ki tarha nahin rahenge."(You're agreeing before listening. Won't you regret it later? ... We won't live as husband and wife.)

Khushi's eyes widened with shock. It felt like she had been drenched in cold water. What did he mean?

Arnav chuckled again lightly. "I mean, hum shuru mein dost banke raheinge, ek doosre ko jaanne ki koshish kareinge. Lekin hum dono ko ek hi kamre mein rehna padega, varna Dadi ko pata chalgaya to... Phir jab hum ready honge, we'll try start our lives as huband and wife. Theek hai?" (I mean we'll start by being friends, tey to know each other. But we'll have to live in the same room and Dadi should not know about this... Then, when we are ready,...)

He had not anticipated her reaction after that. Arnav watched in utter shock when his wife's face crumpled and she began crying, covering her face with her hands. What had he said so wrong to hurt her? Not knowing what to do, he just wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. When the onslaught had calmed down, Khushi sat back straight though his hands remained on her shoulders while he eyed her strangely.

"Kya hua, Khushi?" Arnav asked worriedly and she wiped her face. (What happened, Khushi?)

She glanced at him with bleary eyes before staring down at her lap. "Humein laga tha... aap... aap humse nafrat kareinge..." (I had thought that... you... you would hate me...)

He would have laughed if it was not a serious matter. "Why will I hate you?" he flinched incredulously. That was downright absurd. Who could hate this adorable thing?

"Humne aapko... dhokha..." she sniffed and he cupped her cheek firmly to make her look at him. (I... cheated you...)

"Tumne mujhe dhokha nahin diya hai, okay?" he told her. "You just fell in love aur yeh koyi jurm nahin hai. Khushi, mujhe achha laga ke tum khud mujhse kehne aayi ke tum kissi aur se pyaar karti ho. Isse prove hota hai ke tum honest ho and you are even willing to give your best for our marriage. I would never hate you Khushi." (You didn't cheat me, okay? You just fell in love, and that's no crime. Khushi, I like the fact that you yourself came up to tell me this. It proves that you are honest and...)

She blinked at him quietly. Arnav impulsively pulled her in to kiss the top of her head.

"To?" he grinned down at her, trying to cheer her up. "Meri dost banogi?" (So? We're friends?)