"Anju, the maid will clear the table. You and Khushi are free to go study."
Khushi nodded, pulling her pallu tightly around herself as she walked out behind Anjali. His eyes followed her out of the room, not leaving her disappearing for even a second.
For a moment, her eyes met his as she hurried out. He saw her flinch, her cheeks reddening rapidly in embarrassment. Her jaw clenched tightly in anger, her body stiff as she turned away from his gaze, storming out without glancing back again.
"Khushi doesn't have any reservations about that, now does she?"
He felt a sharp tug of guilt at the memory. He didn't know why she bothered him quite this much. He shouldn't even care what she did. He was known for being bitingly frank, but today... he had purposefully been harsh.
He walked over to the window, staring out at the gardens. His eyes were drawn to the rose bushes, the buds that were just beginning to open. Even from here, he could see that the leaves were vibrant, the buds unbelmished and healthy.
He was grateful that someone had taken care of his plants in his absence. He hadn't expected it at all, expecting to come home and have to plant a new.
It was almost a reminder that he was still a part of this family, that they cared enough to take care of his roses.
Even if he felt distant from them now.
His fingers itched to walk out and touch them, to feel that they were truly as healthy as they seemed. He was astonished, considering the fact that his father had been unwell, and Anju and Sakshi tended to kill the plants. The mali weeded the yard, but did little else besides that- since their lot was so big, there simply wasn't enough time.
So who had taken care of his roses?
"They look nice, don't they?"
Arnav turned to see his father standing behind him, looking out fondly at the rose bushes.
"They do. I'm surprised they haven't faded away in my absence."
Ashok smiled knowingly, his eyes remaining on the plants.
"Khushi has quite the green thumb. She could plant a stick, and it would grow leaves."
Arnav started in surprised, completely taken aback. He didn't see the small smile break out across Ashok's face as he turned around, slowly ambling away.
Khushi had taken care of his plants?
He felt a a guilty tightening in his stomach as he stared at the flourishing plants.
He had kissed her, damnit.
He knew that he had completely degraded her by treating her in such a manner, forcefully taking something she hadn't wanted to give. He had judged her prematurely. Her very attitude spoke of integrity, and he had humiliated her.
She had tended to his garden with so much care, treating the bushes as her own. The bush was healthy and blossoming despite his absence... and it was all because of her.
No.
She too had judged him prematurely.
She had lied to his parents. She had deserved it.
Hadn't she?
Ashok watched his son from the other side of the room, pausing at the doorway. He could see guilt written all over his son's face, the internal struggle evident.
Ashok didn't know what had happened, but he knew that Arnav had hurt Khushi in some way. The tension between them had taken on a hurtful tone at dinner, their voices laced with poorly concealed disgust.
"Khushi's father, Shashi Gupta, was my childhood friend. We spent hours together as children. I think I spent more time at his house than mine, and his parents were a second set of parents for me. We kept in touch throughout the years, and I would visit him on business trips. He owned the most successful sweet shop in Lucknow. He was famous for his jalebis- something that Khushi picked up from him."
He paused, glancing at Arnav out of the corner of his eyes. He could see Arnav's stiff back, listening intently.
"Shashi married Garima, and they loved each other deeply. Khushi was their pride and joy, and the three of them were very happy together. I've watched Khushi grow up, and while Shashi and Garima would spoil her, they also kept her grounded. They encouraged her to study, to develop her own thoughts... and I've tried to raise Anjali the same way."
He took a deep breath, struggling to tell the next part of the story, his voice heavy with sorry and loss.
"Shashi was caught in a protest, and suffered grave injuries. They couldn't get him to the hospital on time. Garima passed away just months later out of grief. Khushi was seventeen at the time. She's lived here since, and I've tried to raise her the way Shashi and Garima would have wanted."
He turned towards Arnav, who was staring at the rose bushes with an indecipherable expression. He placed a hand gently on his son's shoulder, smiling gently when Arnav turned to look at him.
"Khushi is family, Arnav. She's got a very defined sense of right and wrong, and she never strays from that. She's treated us as her parents, and without her these four years..."
He trailed off, knowing that his point had been made. Arnav met his gaze for a moment, looking like he had as a child, his eyes vulnerable and guilty, knowing he had made a mistake. Ashok squeezed his shoulder gently, before turning away.
He hoped his son would make the right choice.
*********
Arnav raised a fist to the door. His hand stilled, and he struggled to do what he knew he should.
She could plant a stick, and it would grow leaves.
Why were you with him, acting like a lovestruck fool? My parents trust you, Khushi.
She's treated us as her parents, and without her these four years...
You don't know the whole story, Arnavji.
He didn't trust her, but he trusted his father.
Should he trust her?
He didn't know. But he knew he had to apologize to her, if only for his father.
He swallowed thickly, and raised his fist, swiftly rapping on the door. He could hear her shuffling around, the muted acknowledgement of his knock.
She swung the door open, her face hardening when she saw him. She began to close it almost immediately, but he stopped her, forcing it open again.
"I've come to apologize."
She didn't respond, her eyes focused on the wall behind him. He sighed heavily, forcing himself to plough on.
"Look, I'm apologizing to you because my father trusts you. He told me why you're here and-"
"You felt pity for me, since I've been through a lot, and decided that the least you could do to mitigate my loss is give me an insincere apology. Am I right?"
He opened his mouth to give her a suitable response, but couldn't find one. She snorted in disgust.
"Apologize if you truly mean it. Otherwise, spare me. Good night."
With that, she shut the door on him, stalking back into her room. He struggled to control his rage, completely taken aback by her cold response. He clenched his fists as the nails dug into his palms, his jaw taut with anger. He whirled around on his heel, storming away.
To hell with his apology.
*********
"Khushi? May I ask you something?"
Khushi turned to see Ma standing in the frame of the kitchen, her hands clasped tightly. Khushi's brow furrowed slightly in worry, and she turned the knob to low before turning back to Ma.
"Is Anju here?"
Khushi shook her head in the negative, wondering what Sakshi Ma had to say that couldn't be shared with Anjali.
"Woh... you know the Mathurs?"
"Yes, Aman is a... he's well known, and I know him well."
"And he's a good boy?"
Khushi began to realize where this was leading, and she forced herself to keep a straight face as the smile threatened to break out.
"Yes. He was headboy in school, captain of the cricket team... he's extremely polite. I have heard that all of the teachers loved him, as do most other people."
Sakshi took a deep breath, a relieved smile breaking out over her face.
"His parents were asking us about Anju. They... they were wondering if Anju would agree. Do you think they are... well suited to each other?"
Khushi desperately tried to swallow the delight, nodding seriously despite her joy for Anjali. Sakshi sighed in relief, a bright smile breaking out over her face.
"I will talk to Anju as well then. I just wanted to ask you as well, since you too are a part of this family, bitiya."
She gently cupped Khushi's cheek, smiling fondly before walking out of the kitchen. Khushi waited until she was gone, before smirking as she called out.
"Anju, you're free to come in now."
Anjali stepped out guiltily from behind the door, an unrestrained smile on her face.
"When were you going to tell me that you've been in a relationship with Aman Mathur for... how long has it been?"
Anjali blushed deeply, biting her lip shyly.
"A year."
"A year?! And you didn't think to tell m-"
"Shh, Khushi, Ma will hear! Yes, he's... I've... we..."
"Accha, I should congratulate my new Bhai then? I'll just make my way over to the Mathurs when I go out to pick up some-"
"Don't you dare, Khushi! Not until it's offic- Khushi? Khushi, where are you going?"
Laughing, Khushi walked out of the kitchen, winking at Anjali. She slammed hard into a chest, and immediately felt the warm hands grasping her upper arms. She froze, recognizing the touch immediately.
"Don't you have eyes? Watch where you're going."
He spit, hatred lacing every word.
Khushi swallowed thickly, forcing herself to keep the tears at bay. She swallowed the caustic comeback, taking a deep breath. She didn't say anything, only nodding and walking away.
Arnav watched her leave, his anger and irritation growing as he watched her quietly turn the corner.
He now treated her with purposeful hatred, furious with the way she had disregarded his apology.
She hadn't even considered it, throwing it away as if she enjoyed him groveling at her feet.
He hated the way she was completely unaffected by him, taking his venom without saying a thing.
He tried to convince himself she deserved it, even though he knew in the pit of his stomach that she didn't.
Instead of just asking her, he had reacted violently. It wasn't fair to her, and he had acted impulsively. Whatever he had accused her of hadn't deserved that, with him forcing himself on her.
He swallowed tightly, the guilt clawing at his stomach.
But he didn't want to admit that he had been wrong about her.
His father's words rang in his ears, a sharp wave of guilt hitting him.
He should trust his father's judgement, shouldn't he?
No.
She had lied to his father, right?
Or was she telling the truth? Did his father know she was with that... man he had seen her with? Was there a reason he didn't know behind everything?
He shook his head.
Why did her forgiveness even matter to him? He shouldn't care that she had thrown it in his face. Who was she to him?
He walked out into the garden, kicking mindlessly at the patches of grass. The house was completely quiet, and he hadn't seen her since dinner almost two hours ago.
He heard a faint sniffle from a corner, and looked off towards the rose bush. He saw a small figure curled up in a white patiala salwar kameez, her hair let loose from the customary plait. The soft moonlight lit her face, and he was momentarily struck by her beauty.
Her head was turned up towards the sky, her thick hair streaming down her back in a veil of dark silk. Her face was illuminated by the moonlight, almost glowing.
Regardless of his opinions of her, he had to admit that she was beautiful.
He glanced back at her, only to see her wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
She was... crying.
He felt his heart clench, guilt overwhelming him. He knew he was the cause for those tears, the sniffles and the stilted shaking of her shoulders.
He stepped closer, hidden by the shadows.
"Why does he hate me so much, Mama? What did I ever do to him? It's like he judged me as soon as he saw me. Ever since he's come, all he has done is treated me with hatred. I try to be polite to him, I really do, but he... he's just meaner."
She took in a shuddering breath, swiping harshly at the tears.
"It's like he's determined to remind me that he's the son, that I have no place in this home. That I'm the outsider.
She sighed heavily, gritting her teeth.
"I'm fed up. I wish he would just go back to the phirangis and leave us in peace. He's been gone for five years, and hasn't turned back. He doesn't even want to be here. Anju and I can take care of Ashok Papa and Sakshi Ma just fine, we don't need him. "
Her words hit him hard, and he sucked in a deep breath. Her words hurt him, reminded him of the fact that he hadn't been there for his family. He felt the lead weight of the guilt settle in his stomach, his conscience reminding him of his intuition that she had done no wrong.
They had both judged each other, but she had never been deliberately mean to him.
He, on the other hand... had humiliated her, degraded her, and insulted her honor. He had called her a liar.
And for what?
A rustle of movement brought him out of his thoughts, and he watched as she walked slowly back into the house, murmuring a soft goodbye.
She hadn't turned to his parents, he noticed. She hadn't ever complained to them about him, even though she could have easily done so.
She hadn't wanted to create a rift between him and his parents, he realized.
The painful twist worsened, and he hastily whirled around on his heel, stalking back inside.
He had been wrong.
*********
The next few days, Khushi was insufferably polite to him. Her eyes were always cool, and she never spoke to him unless absolutely required to. She was utterly indifferent. She was never rude, which frustrated him the most.
He couldn't even be angry because she hadn't done anything.
If he brought up the superiority of the British system, she would simply excuse herself with a polite smile.
He wanted her to react, to engage him, to allow him to justify his actions from that day as deserved.
He forced his gaze away from her as she walked into the room with plates, beginning to set the table.
He couldn't deny that she was beautiful. Even know, in the rough khadi sari, she looked... different. Soft wisps of hair fell around her gently flushed face, her brow furrowed as she contemplated something.
His eyes dropped further to the small strip of skin between her blouse, determinedly trying to control the pang of desire.
He had spent more time than he cared to admit studying her.
What he hated even more was the fact that he now knew his father was right, and he was wrong.
He had never seen anyone more dedicated to his family. She respected Sakshi and Ashok deeply, showered her affection on them. By some counts, she was closer to them than even Anju was.
He had watched her remind his father without fail about when to take his pills, bringing him the water and the medications. He had watched her step into the kitchen, gently taking the spoon from his mother's hands and insisting that she would do it herself. He watched her tend to the small gardens as his father observed her, the two of them laughing and talking animatedly.
But he had also seen her walking in the garden late at night again, simply staring up at the sky. She would be in her simple, white salwar kameez with the red border, her hair streaming down her back.
She had clearly assumed that no one would see her. She would let go of the poised calm she always had, revealing other facets of her nature.
It was at those times that he could see the vulnerability on her face, the sad, wistfulness as she looked up at the sky, as if she was searching for someone.
Occasionally, she would murmur something to the stars and smile, before walking back inside, her arms wrapped around herself to counter the chill in the Delhi air.
He had been wrong about her.
She hadn't lied to his parents. There was simply no way someone as dedicated and loving towards his parents could purposefully betray them.
He had judged her prematurely, and now... he was suffering the guilt for it.
He sat down across from her, ignoring the surprised looks. They had carefully out of each other's line of sight the last few days, avoiding eye contact.
She stood up with Anju against the protests of their parents, moving to serve the table.
She came over to him, her eyes pointedly cast downwards.
She was clearly expecting the harsh rebuke he had given her the last time.
"Would you like to serve yourself?"
She asked politely, a carefully indifferent smile on her face.
He studied her for a minute, before he decided to break the ice.
"Would you mind serving me today?"
The entire table froze, watching as the ice between the enemies slowly began to melt. She stared at him blankly, uncomprehending. He simply met her gaze, a small smile on his face.
With a curt nod, she served exactly two scoops of rice onto his place, before seating herself down across from him.
She had noticed how much he took.
The idea filled him with a vague sense of satisfaction, and they began to eat, settling into a familiar routine.
Ashok watched Arnav and Khushi carefully, noting the small smile on his son's face. He had noticed the cool demeanor with which Khushi had treated him, and the way Arnav had struggled to accept it. He saw Arnav observing her when she wasn't looking.
Even as a child, Arnav had hated indifference, and that hadn't changed over the years.
Just as Ashok had expected, Arnav had started to trust Khushi, understanding that his previous ideas about her were wrong.
He hid a smile as Khushi quietly asked Arnav to pass her something.
The ice had begun to dissipate.
*********
Khushi knelt by the rose bushes, alone. Anju and Sakshi Ma had taken Ashok Papa to the doctor for a checkup, but she had insisted she would stay at home.
She needed some time to herself to come to terms with the new developments.
She had noticed Arnav's careful observation of her. It had unnerved her, with his eyes watching her every move.
Khushi had seen his frustration to her cool response, clearly looking for excuses to taunt her. She knew he wanted to justify his actions to himself so he wouldn't have to apologize sincerely.
The man had way too much pride.
But as the days passed, she had noticed his attitude towards her softening. Instead of unconcealed irritation, he now regarded her with a certain amount of respect.
It was as if he... trusted her- or more accurately, trusted her intentions towards the family.
She shook her head, irritated.
He had to spend days observing her to prove to himself that she wasn't a threat?
But in a way, she also admired his loyalty towards his family. Despite his lack or outwardly affection, she could see that Arnav cared deeply for his parents and sister.
She was in the middle of pressing the soil down when another pair of hands joined her in the mud, tugging at a stray weed.
She looked up, shocked to see a tanned hand resting next to her own.
"Hello, Khushi."
She shifted away uncomfortably, pulling her pallu tighter. The hesitant acceptance in his eyes was discomfiting. She had come to expect an icy glare- not this newfound... warmth.
She nodded, silently acknowledging his presence.
They quietly worked side by side, carefully weeding the patch around the rose bushes.
His low voice broke the silence as he tenderly fingered a bud, smiling with a softness she wouldn't have expected from him.
"Papa bought me this rose bush when I was ten. I've raised it myself. He taught me to plant it, to weed it, to water it... I expected it to be gone when I arrived. As I'm sure you know, neither Anju nor Ma have a green thumb. And Papa..."
He trailed off, staring at the plant speculatively before turning to her.
There was an earnestness she hadn't seen before, and she swallowed tightly.
"Thank you, Khushi, for taking care of my rose bush. Or well... I guess it's our rose bush now."
She didn't respond, meticulously continuing to pull out the weeds. He sighed heavily, disappointed by her lack of response.
He was trying to demonstrate regret.
He absentmindedly reached to pull at a seemingly innocuous stick, only to be stopped by a horrified shriek.
"Don't pull that! It's the beginnings of another..."
She trailed off, realizing that she had broken the icy silence that she was determined to keep.
She hurriedly turned away, and a small smile broke out over his face.
This... was progress.
*********
Note: And that's where I'll leave you for today! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll be back on Tuesday with a teaser.
As always, please follow @ipkchotidesi on Twitter or PM me your email for update notifications!
Love always,
Choti.
Edited by chotidesi - 10 years ago
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