Arhi FF - Pocket Change - Chapter 13- 26 January - Page 6

Originally posted by: DivyaS.

I'm loving this story more with each passing chapter. I love the way we're getting the details on their lives through Khushi's books, and so are Akash and Shyam 😛. She loves him, he loves her, and yet something went seriously wrong. And I'm pretty sure Khushi had a very valid reason. I hope.

I don't think that NK is anything more than a friend who's helping Khushi, for reasons unknown, as yet. Maybe..

Loved it !! Waiting eagerly for the next chapter :)

Please comment as this one as this chapter is crucial (and long!) Also, since I'm PMing now, please buddy me if you want further notification, but only after dropping in a comment.

Honest Lies is the trilogy published by Khushi, but Pocket Change is simply a working title to a rough manuscript, that Khushi does not intend to publish. Both are about Arnav-Khushi, but PC has more truth. Sorry if that didn't come out clearly. And Arnav's still ASR, suave businessman, just with a guitar and a better voice.

Chapter 6

Arnav didn't know why he offered to go when Nani said that they needed somebody to drop off the wedding dress to Payal's house. His sister looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind. He shrugged. Maybe he was a masochist and some part of him was hoping he would see Khushi again. Arnav was a ball of nerves the entire drive to Gupta Niwas, wondering if he would see her, and if he would, would she be hostile because of the disaster of their last interaction of would she pretend like nothing happened?

Arnav was both relieved and disappointed. Turned out, he needn't have worried because Garima Aunty said she was out for the launch of the last part in the Honest Lies trilogy and the book-signing event later on, handing him an copy of it, saying Khushi wanted him to have it. No doubt Khushi knew he secretly read them, even as he scoffed at the supposed ample drama in it.

"Arnav, would you please put these blankets in Khushi's room? They're just back from the laundry."

He wouldn't have thought anything of it; except for the way Khushi's mother was avoiding his gaze, her attention on patting the blankets she handed him. She had always done this - even when they were kids, when she told Khushi they were taking her to the park, when they were actually visiting the dentist, so Arnav knew something was up.

He trudged up the stairs, his arms full of fluffy blankets, past the multitude of framed family portraits and artwork and into Khushi's room. In these three years, he had visited Gupta Niwas many times, but was careful not to enter Khushi's room, afraid of the onslaught of agony that would gnaw at his chest. So, when after three years, he stepped into Khushi's room, he was surprised. Asides from the luggage lying around with pieces of clothing sticking out, nothing had changed. The picture of Khushi piggybacking on him was still hanging in the centre of the room; the copy of Farewell to Arms he had lent her when she was in the tenth grade was still visible on her bookshelf. He chuckled mirthlessly, understanding Garima Aunty's plotting. She wanted him to see that nothing had changed; that Khushi and Arnav were still the same young couple madly in love with each other ever since Khushi turned sixteen.

Despite everything, Arnav knew Khushi's mother had never given up hoping that they would end up together, although Arnav had begged her to - saying that hoping was too painful. The nostalgia hit him hard, and Arnav almost stumbled from its impact. This room was a montage of memories, a monument, a souvenir, a debri of everything they'd shared. Arnav remembered sneaking into her room late at night through the window all through their teenage years, even though his visits were innocent (somewhat). He remembered the way they would laugh softly, staying up just talking and reading amidst brief kisses and cuddling.

Arnav blinked back the images as dust motes floated in the beams of light filtering into the now empty, quiet room.

He had to get out of here.

He dumped the blankets on her bed and was about to stalk out of the room when his eyes caught sight of the familiar writing pad on the study table. He was the one to gift it to her when she graduated from 12^th grade and decided to pursue Literature. It was a lime green pad with little red stockings on it. Something unknown compelled him to move forward and take it in his hands, and flipped through it curiously. Setting his copy of the trilogy on the desk, he thumbed the pages longingly, tracing the words with fondness. Most of them were just random phrases, little observations she had made about people, quotes, abstract thoughts, in neat cursive handwriting, but he took it all in greedily, grateful for any part of her mind that wasn't closed off from him.

Any part of her heart.

And then his finger landed on a section that made all the blood drain from his face, blood thump loudly in his ears; face brittle, broken china on display. Words that caused his heart to tighten, only for the cords to snap in one single movement, leaving him without an anchor, in limbo.

It was the note - her goodbye letter - written over and over and over again. Pages and pages of pen scribbles, as if she'd been copying detention lines:

We can't be together. Don't come after me.

We can't be together. Don't come after me.

We can't be together. Don't come after me.

We can't be together. Don't come after me.

The handwriting was terrible, and not at all like Khushi's distinguished, cursive calligraphy. Towards the end, it almost became illegible, the pen straying at points as though she was shaking horribly while writing it. Sometimes the words changed, 'Don't come after me' became 'Don't come for me', but always 'We can't be together', as if she was trying to convince herself more than him. The bottom of her last page of scribbles was torn and Arnav knew that was where the note for him was from. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

What the hell was this?

Before he could mull over it further, he heard footfalls coming towards the room. Swiftly tearing out a page of the repetitive phrases and a page of her earlier mesh of thoughts and quotes, he folded them and stuffed it into his back pocket, flipping the journal shut.

The door flung open as Khushi burst into the room, talking on the phone.

"Yes, NK, I'm fine. The launch was great, and I-" She stopped abruptly, catching sight of Arnav.

She muttered a "gotta go" to the man on the phone, and whipped her eyes to meet Arnav's. It happened so quickly that Arnav would have missed it if his eyes weren't trained to her face. Almost imperceptibly, her gaze flicked from the writing pad on the desk on Arnav.

"Why are you here?" She asked sharply.

Because of the questions.

I want to ask and ask and ask.

What were those words?

Did you write them?

What do they mean?

Do you love the man on the phone?

As much as you did me?

And,

Were you that unhappy with me?

He squeezed his eyes shut in anguish, remembering a promise from lifetime ago - soft words carried by doves, as he proposed to Khushi.

I want us to have the kind of forever that makes people jealous. Will you spend it with me?

She had cried and screamed yes.

Did you forget, Khushi?

When they were together, they always spoke what was on their minds and questioned the other if something bothered them. But they weren't that anymore. They hid behind silences and guitars, books and feeble jibes.

"Your mother sent me in here to put those blankets." He pointed to the bed.

She only hmmed non-committedly.

Arnav hated the silence, the awkwardness that had settled so thickly between them. He hated her because he was the only one trying, that she wasn't falling over herself to justify her disappearance, standing there with no apology; yet seeing her here made his heart lighter than it had been in years.

"So, uh, since I wasn't there for the book launch, do you think your ex-husband could have the special privilege of a private signing?" He tried to smile as he held up his copy.

Khushi smiled softly, as she took it. "Do you have a pen?"

Arnav swept his eyes over the clutter on her desk, which was strewn with a million papers, a twinkle in his eye. "I don't think we can find one under that mess if we tried for years.

Khushi's eyes grew wide and indignant as they understood his insinuation. "Hey, it's not easy! I write first drafts and then Preeto tells me what she thinks and I incorporate her changes, only to realize I want to add a section which I originally discarded-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Writing is hard work. Organization is tough to come by."

"Not everyone can be a neat freak like you. You used to drive me crazy with your OCDness. Books in alphabetical order, shoes arranged according to size, underwear sorted by-" She stopped, and then cleared her throat.

Arnav spoke up; wishing that invisible wall between them would dissipate. "I think that's why we worked so well until..." He swallowed. "We balanced each other out." The, as an afterthought, he added, "Like a weird sort of symbiosis. Ever thought of that?"

She shook her head, her expression full of awe - or maybe it was simply incredulous, Arnav couldn't decide.

"We fed off of each other's emotions, even as children. More often than not, you were the one with those overpowering moods - so much life, so happy. I couldn't help but bask in it. But I remember some days I'd be thinking about things...sad things. I'd look at you and see it all reflected back - the same furrowed brow, same pained eyes."

Some unfathomable emotion shifted in her eyes.

"Okay, so we felt each other's sorrows and joys. I mean, isn't that the point of marriage? Hell, of friendship?"

"Yes. But I think we influenced each other a lot more than most people. I didn't realize it until I went to college, saw how other couples behaved."

"Screw other couples. They weren't us. So you're saying we were too dependent on each other?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Kind of. I tend to believe our symbiosis was leaning toward the parasitic end of the spectrum, rather than mutualism. For me, anyway."

Khushi rolled her eyes, and Arnav knew why. That was a very Arnav-like thing to say. Self depreciating, always.

"You and your scientific analogies. If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were showing off. Basically, you're saying you emotionally leeched off of me?"

"Something like that." His lips twitched.

"Always knew there was something about the way you sucked my brains with all your talk of stocks and shares and profits. Now I know - you're a leech." She flopped down on the bed with a martyred expression.

"Khushi, I'm serious."

"I'm sorry, Arnav, but it's kind of hard to take your 'symbiosis' theory seriously. I mean, symbiosis happens to fish and coral reefs, dirt and plants, algae, bacteria, stuff like that. Not people."

"It was just a metaphor. You, of all people should know that." He grinned.

She ignored him. "So answer this: if we were so symbiotic, why was I happy when you were unhappy? In theory, shouldn't both of us have been happy or unhappy?"

His eyebrows quirked, champagne eyes boring into her hazel ones. "Are you sure you were happy?"

She fell quiet, and Arnav smirked triumphantly.

"Maybe not happy...but I was as content as the next person. I was writing, discovering my passion," Khushi retorted, chin jutting out defiantly.

He nodded, not saying anything.

"Look, it boils down to this: I never felt burdened by you, emotionally drained, or damaged in any way. Not once."

Arnav sighed, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Why did you leave then, Khushi?"

She stilled, words frozen in her throat.

"I...I needed to leave, Arnav. I needed to leave alone, plain and simple."

"No, it's not 'plain and simple!' That's what you said before. What I don't get is, why. I mean, was I too demanding, too hard to live with? Busy with work? I need to know."

Her head shot up, lips parted in shock. "No! Never. Please understand, it wasn't you. It was me." Even she winced at that horrible cliche. "I just...I couldn't be married to you."

"Bull. Complete bullshit, and you know it. All you talked about when we were teenagers was how you wanted that fairytale happy ending. Obviously I factored in to your decision to leave somehow. You weren't married to yourself."

She held up her hands in futility. "I'm not sure what else I can say. It wasn't a game, Arnav. We weren't kids anymore...we were becoming different people."

"These are the same reasons you gave me through Payal three years ago. You couldn't even talk to me."

"And they still are the same reasons."

Arnav ran an exasperated hand through his hair. He wanted to scream. He was getting sick of her mysterious explanations. Why couldn't she give him a straight answer, just once in her life? Let down that barrier she'd built around her mind when he asked for honesty. But she wouldn't, would she? Still the same old, frustratingly careful Khushi, keeping her secrets and blocking him from anything she found remotely disturbing. He knew it then - the only thing worse than missing someone when they were away was missing them when they were right in front of you.

He saw her in the same position as last time, body frozen, jaw locked, her sitting on her hands. She bit down hard on her lip to stop it from quivering. And her eyes...they were beautiful - devastated and devastating.

Suddenly, on an impulse, he leaned in, his gaze on her lip between teeth, her lashes fluttering in sync with the butterflies in his stomach as the pad of his thumb brushed against her lip, tugging it out from the sharp grasp of her teeth.

"Please, Khushi...you've got to give me something concrete here or I'll go nuts. I refuse to end up alone because of you." He breathed, rejoicing victoriously as her eyes unfocussed, like it always did when he was at such proximity. Her fingers fisted the duvet tightly. "Please."

His whisper caressed her ear as his lips hovered over the delicious, milky white expanse of her neck.

"Pen! I found a pen!"

Her shout caused Arnav to lean back in surprise, giving Khushi enough room to leap up. She looked so relieved that Arnav groaned.

"It was under the duvet. Here, I'll sign your book."

She held his gaze for a moment before smiling a sad, wistful smile and signing the first page of the book with a flourish, as Arnav looked on, resigned and morose.

"I have to Skype Preeto. Catch you later?"

She left the room then without waiting for his reply, but Arnav couldn't help but notice, smugly, that she was a little unsteady on her feet.

He flipped open the book to see what she had written, pleased with himself, only to be left baffled once again, the piece of paper in his back pocket suddenly very heavy.

I want so much for you, you despicable, churlish, bozo. So much. And that's why.

-Spark.

Please do drop in a word. Nervous about this chapter...