Alcohol has become his most loyal companion, he mused. His only friend. His only solace. Arnav Singh Raizada had scorched his sorrows in the burning fire it fueled within him, not once... but multiple times in the past few days.
And while he had always enjoyed it in appropriate proportion, drinking to the extent of intoxication had never been something that appealed to him. Losing the tight control he maintained over his actions and thoughts was simply not worth the temporary high.
Yet today he found himself a changed man, stumbling to the bar beside the poolside and slapping a thick bundle of dollar bills for a neat whisky. For once, Arnav didn't want to control or confront his actions and thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to ignore them... forget them and run far away.
Because Khushi Kumari Gupta had broken his heart.
Beaten and bruised it.
Not because of her allegations and insults, but because she had not even spared him an explanation or even a second glance.
Everything he had held dear and pure meant nothing to the woman he loved. Everything he had cherished and worshipped meant nothing to the woman he lived for. And beautiful, innocent Kinara... she had been snatched away even before she could be called his. The thought of her smiling, little pigtailed girl opened the floodgates to the thoughts he wished to ignore.
Khushi, his Khushi, in the arms of another man
His Khushi, pregnant and blushing with another man's child
His Khushi, naming her daughter not after the ocean... but after the waves.
Nauseated, he raised the glass to lips, relaxing as the clinking sound of ice against cold glass broke his thoughts. Wary eyes scanned the scantily dressed sunbathers, hoping to find a much-needed distraction and a few hours of physical contentment. After all, what was the point of remaining true to a woman who was no longer yours?
Total bullshit.
His deliberations of disloyalty vanished the very second he heard her.
The ringing of her radiant laughter was unmistakable, like chimes blowing freely in the cool wind.
Dazed, he turned around and saw her, eyes sparkling and hair glistening in the hot summer sun. For just a moment, Arnav was launched into a happier past --- a woman standing in the hot sand of Coney Island beach, head thrown back as waves crashed around her feet. Beauty, personified. She smiled and looked back at him, motioning for him to join her, kohl rimmed eyes mischievous and alive. Bright hazels brimming sincerely and deeply in lo---
"Baby, catch!"
The woman launched herself cleanly into her husband's waiting arms, chuckling as he twirled her freely around the swimming pool.
The woman was still Khushi.
But he was no longer that husband.
It was Tarang.
Tarang Lal Kher.
Tall, handsome, charming and apparently well-endowed, Tarang Lal Kher
As Arnav saw Khushi swimming beside him, encouraging their squirming daughters to jump into the pool, he could not help but curse the deceivingly handsome man. He was the reason Arnav Singh Raizada had lost what he had once treasured. That overly charismatic, widely smiling bas***d had snatched away his very will to live, and conveniently made it his own.
Arnav loathed him... almost as much as he loved Khushi.
When Kinara and Shagun leaped into their parent's outstretched arms, he faced the bartender once again. Mother, father and daughters. There was no space for anyone else to intrude or impose. Let alone, him. Arnav Singh Raizada was nothing more than an unfortunate past better left forgotten.
A loner. A loser. A borderline alcoholic suffering from clinical depression.
He was the ideal example of the ultimate million-dollar fu*k up. Fu*ked childhood. Fu*ked friendships. Fu*ked marriage. Fu*ked mentality. He was a fu*ked up shit who used "monetary success" as an excuse for a hollow life and endless shortcomings.
The need for more hard liquor hit him devastatingly hard, and he slowly nudged his empty glass forward.
"I'll take another whiskey", he whispered.
When liquid amber didn't fill his glass, Arnav looked up from the tightly coiled fingers in his lap, unsurprised to see the young, overoptimistic bartender whistling at a woman by the poolside. Amateur, Arnav amusedly realized, very well familiar with the tell tale signs of a boy wanting to act the man. Poor twenty-something David couldn't conceal the childishly gawking eyes or the flamboyantly boyish eagerness. Classic rooky mistakes.
"These are the perks of my otherwise shitty job Sir", David theatrically sighed, leaning against the otherwise empty bar counter. "To see women as beautiful as that exotic creature. She really has the Megan Fox thing going for her, doesn't she?"
"No woman is worth your sanity", Arnav said.
"Oh yeah?" David snorted, rolling his eyes mockingly. "I dare you to look at her and say it like you mean it. She's not like the other girls, Sir. This one is different."
Curiosity and natural competitive instinct got the better of him, and Arnav turned around with supreme overconfidence.
He lost the challenge the second his eyes found the object of the bartender's attraction, and was immediately unable to further condone David's hormonal appraisal.
Because, simply put, Khushi Kumari Gupta was beyond beautiful. The woman standing on the deck, running her towel through dampened hair, was breathtaking in every sense of the word.
Six years ago, if someone had told him that his innocent, demure and moral preaching wife would be caught wearing a bathing suit in public, he would have laughed. Hysterically, in fact. Yet here she was -- clad in a modest, pale blue bikini and royally unconcerned by the obvious male appreciation around her.
And despite his reluctance of objectification, Arnav could not help but run his burning gaze over her bare body. Motherhood had only accentuated her assets --- larger breasts, fuller hips and an unmistakable maturity that added to her endless appeal.
Of course, if one were to look closely, the tell tale signs of age were subtly noticeable. The small wrinkles around her eyes were new, as were the faint stretch marks around her otherwise toned navel. But the supreme confidence, the raised chin and assertive strides all constituted a stronger woman reborn. Khushi Kumari Gupta was sophisticated, cultured, sexy and yet warm and homely. She was the epitome of a man's wildest dreams and man's greatest desires.
And to think she had been his... how could he have been so foolish? So blind?
"Damn it", David interrupted, swearing under his breath. "I think she's taken. Is Taronj an Indian dude's name or something? I can't read that shit properly. "
"What?" Arnav asked, still dazed by the sight before him.
"Her ink, man. Look at her ink. I'm not a hundred percent sure though... it might be her Dad or favorite uncle or something. Wishful thinking, right?"
Sure enough when Arnav squinted to look at her more carefully, he saw the six-letter name tattooed cleanly below her breast. Right where her heart would be. Tarang Lal Kher had made his place in her life permanent. Literally. The middle class psychiatrist had successfully done what the world-renowned millionaire never could. When the stubborn beads of perspiration broke out behind Arnav's neck, he turned back towards the ogling bartender.
"Don't waste your time, kid", he murmured, lifting his glass for another whiskey. "You won't even realize when she'll break your heart"
"And not to mention, she's a married mother of two little girls"
A man with charcoal black eyes smilingly took the empty seat beside Arnav, ignoring the immediate glare of wholesome, raw hatred sent in his direction.
"So in the pretty lady's honor, how about treating her old husband to a simple rum and coke? I can't handle the hard-core stuff like Mr. Raizada over here"
The idiotic smirk was instantly wiped off David's face.
"Su---Sure, sir. I---I need to get more rum from the pa---pantry, though."
The clearly mortified bartender scurried off before either of the men could call him back. Complaints of shamelessly hitting on clients would not sit well with his manager.
"So," Tarang kindly began, chuckling as a nervous David tripped over a barstool. "Arnav, I thou--"
"Don't you dare fuc*ing talk to me", Arnav spat back venomously. "I don't associate with wife stealing assholes"
"Oh?" he questioned, arching his brow in genuine interest. "Lucky for you, neither do I. In fact, that is precisely why I wanted to talk to you"
"Don't try to bullshit me, Kher. Khushi was my wife fir---"
"Khushi IS my wife NOW."
All traces of kindness and charm vanished as his black eyes hardened at her name. Gone was the jovial, happy go lucky man, replaced by a husband driven by the primal instinct to fiercely protect what was rightfully his. Tarang's finger slowly rose towards Arnav's glowering face, unperturbed by the dangerous fire that danced in the latter's drunken eyes.
He would not allow Khushi to go through hell. Not again. Not with him around.
"I don't care about how rich you are, Arnav Singh Raizada. Stay the fu*k away from my wife. Stay the fu*k away from my kids. Your bank account won't protect you against my killing you. You've hurt her enough for the next ten lifetimes. I won't let you do it again."
Tarang stood up before Arnav could open his mouth to retort, immediately turning back towards a scowling Kinara pulling a stuffed unicorn from her sister's arms.
Khushi and his girls were not open to discussion or debate. His job as a husband was to warn whoever exposed his family to vulnerability, threaten if he must. But he would not sit down to negotiate his wife and children as terms on a contract.
...
But little did Tarang Lal Kher know, he had just confronted a businessman, and thereby stirred the dormant beast within.
A businessman who did not ignore challenges and definitely did not accept defeat.
A businessman who did not rest until triumphant conquest
A ruthless, arrogant and brutal businessman
And at that very moment, Arnav Singh Raizada vowed that he would win.
He would try until it killed him.
He would win back happiness.
He would win back his Khushi.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: T E N T A T I V E
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