1 | ArHi FF Resistance | COMPLETE - Page 44

Originally posted by: Arshi67

While Bitiya looks a tad perturbed at er it! 😆

Originally posted by: chotidesi

😆 😆 😆

Not the reaction you want a woman to have, yeah? 😆

The first week passed by in uncomfortable silence, with only an occasional, curt statement from her. Khushi glanced at him, before quickly looking back down at the stray piece of grass that remained stubbornly stuck in the ground.

He had tried to make conversation, but she refused to speak to him, despite him trying to make conversation. She would respond with yes or no, or simply not respond at all.

She didn't want to engage him, to say anything that he could misinterpret again.

She was unsettled by his persistence. He came every, single day, sitting down next to her and grabbing a trowel. She had expected him to stop after she refused to talk, but he hadn't, allowing her to mull things over in silence.

She glanced at him again, her heartbeat quickening uncomfortably.

She didn't trust him.

Why was he so determined to talk to her? Why did he care?

She wished she could ask him, but she didn't dare.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that.

He shifted closer, leaning over to grab another tool. Her stomach dropped at the feeling of his leg just millimeters away from hers, the heat radiating from it. She forced herself to remain unaffected, not saying a word, only moving over to give him room to work.

Should she speak to him? Would he even respond?

She blew out a frustrated breath, wondering why she was so bothered by him. She saw him glance at her, and hastily busied herself with the plant, pulling out the stubborn piece with force.

He leaned back, watching her tug the weed out harshly. He felt distinctly uncomfortable by how intensely she affected him, the pangs of desire growing sharper with time. His eyes would often drift to her, surreptitiously studying the small perk of her nose that had a tendency to turn red, the thick, sooty lashes that rested on soft cheeks.

He had joined her whenever Anju and Ma would take Papa for a drive, silently helping her weed. She hadn't said anything, allowing him to be there but never expressly acknowledging him.

He realized that it bothered him that she didn't talk to him, barring a few phrases here and there. She had remained determinedly silent, her jaw taut and her focus never straying from work.

He knew he deserved it, but...

He shook his head, busying himself in weeding.

There was no use in dwelling on it. He had left it up to her, and he had to respect that if he wanted to make up for his mistakes.

"Did you miss your family when you were in England?"

Surely he had imagined that. She couldn't have... could she?

Her voice was so soft that he would have missed it if he hadn't been listening intently. He nearly asked her to repeat it, his eyes flashing to her. She kept herself turned away from him, her eyes focused on the weeds in front of her.

He tried to ignore the burst of hope that bubbled up within him, forcing the curve that was pulling at his lips into a straight line. He tried to remain unaffected, keeping his voice from showing the delight that she had finally responded to him.

"Yes. There wasn't a day that I didn't long for them to be with me."

"Why did you leave?"

He took a deep breath, mulling his answer over. He knew what it was, of course. He had expected her to ask this at some point, and already had an answer ready.

He could have never succeeded in India the way he had in England. The power the British Empire held in the world was indisputable, and having connections in that country had given him opportunities he never would have had in India.

India was corrupt, with everyone wanting a bribe to get work done. People were lazy, and work took forever to get done. England was so much more efficient, with everyone working hard to get where they were. There were no chai breaks, no random closings of shops, no bribes, no holidays every other week...

He prepared to highlight India's flaws, pointing out how he would have never reached the same heights if he had stayed.

He looked up at her. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, the loose salwar stained with dirt. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, loose curls sticking to her forehead. She still hadn't looked at him, but he could tell she was waiting for an answer, listening intently.

For some reason, he couldn't form a single, caustic sentence on all the flaws he knew India had.

He didn't want to.

He took a deep breath, and answered, wondering why he couldn't tell her the harsh truth.

What made him crave for her approval, her forgiveness?

"I... just wanted to experience the world."

She nodded her head, the silence taking over once more.

*********

They formed a tentative truce over the next couple of weeks. Arnav would join her whenever Papa, Ma and Anju left for their drive, joining her instead.

She felt her defenses coming down slowly, his persistence wearing her down. His presence was enough to frazzle her, his calm silence unnerving her.

She would rather that he yell at her.

At least then, she would know how to react.

She wanted to stay angry at him for the way he had treated her. But she couldn't, after seeing how much he regretted his initial reaction to her, and that he wanted to make amends for it.

Mistakes happen, and she knew that people deserved second chances.

She glanced over at him, studying him out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze lingered over the scar above his eyebrow, trailing down to his sharp jaw. He had shaved, and she could smell the vague scent that was distinctly him.

She inhaled subtly, closing her eyes. It mingled with the raw scent of the dirt and roses, the combination making her heart race, warmth spreading through her. The scent had become familiar to her, an intoxicating effect that flustered her.

Feeling her gaze on him, he looked up, meeting her eyes.

He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, the burst of satisfaction.

She blushed furiously and turned away immediately, swallowing nervously. She hadn't intended for him to catch her staring. She glanced over at him again, hurriedly turning her back to him when she realized he was still watching.

Maybe...

She berated herself mentally for getting caught staring. She couldn't deny that he intrigued her, affected her in a way that no one ever had before. She had unconsciously come to look forward to his presence by her, the feeling of his knees sinking into the dirt right next to hers. She enjoyed the snippets of conversation they had, craved for more.

She should have told him to leave the very first day. She had decided on the day he had kissed her that she wouldn't engage him.

But she missed the verbal sparring from when they first met, the way he challenged her. She wanted to talk to him, and she couldn't figure out why. She was supposed to remain indifferent, to stay far away from a man who didn't deserve her attention.

He had treated her so badly, and yet...

But he was trying to make amends. He had admitted he was wrong.

But was he being sincere?

"I see you outside sometimes at night."

She glanced up at the sound of his voice. His hands were still buried in the dirt, but he was looking at her with nervous apprehension, silently asking her to respond.

It was the first time he had initiated the conversation since the first day he had joined her.

She regarded him carefully for a moment.

If she spoke now...

"My parents. I believe that they're up there, watching over me."

"I didn't ask. You don't have to tell me."

She laughed softly, giving one of the weeds a sharp tug.

"You didn't ask directly, no. But you implied it, didn't you?"

She saw his small smile, acquiescing. There was silence again, except this time, it was the silence between friends.

It was almost... comfortable.

"When I was upset, Papa used to make me jalebis. He taught me how to make them."

She sighed heavily, her voice nostalgic as she recalled fond memories. She could still smell the overwhelming sweetness of the syrup, taste the crispy treat bursting in her mouth, the warm liquid spreading over her tongue.

She could hear her dad's deep laughter at her mother's hollow admonishment, her stern expression failing to hide the amusement in her eyes when she realized her daughter had finished off yet another plate of jalebis.

"She's eating as much as a man!"

"Arey, khane do na Garima, how long will she get to be this young and careless?"

"You spoil her. Hmph. Don't blame me if-"

Her father would stuff a jalebi in her mother's mouth, joking about this being the way he had won her over. He would look around dramatically, making sure the room was empty, and then place a quick kiss on her mother's cheek.

Her mother would roll her eyes, whirling away to mask the pretty blush that crept up her face as she muttered about being besharam.

"Baap aur beti, dono ek jaise."

She sucked in a painful breath, her gut twisting at the memory of her mother's empty insults that hid the affection she held.

"We used to make them together often. When he died... I made enough to feed our entire neighborhood."

Her voice choked up, and she brushed away the tears.

He heard her watery chuckle, and looked up, seeing her turning around, wiping the tears furiously away. His heart tightened at the sight of her raw pain, wishing that he could take it away. He reached out his hand, before stopping it just short of her shoulder, pulling it back, his fingers slowly curling into themselves.

He wished he could have, but he didn't.

She turned back to grab a spade, her eyes avoiding his. He noticed the streak of dirt from where she had brushed the tears away.

He reached out again, but paused over her cheek, realizing what he was about to do. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and cleared his throat, his voice gruff.

"Sorry. You... have a streak of dirt there."

She grabbed the end of her dupatta, using it to brush away the dirt.

"Better?"

He nodded curtly, turning back to look at the ground.

*********

"You and Anju go to those... resistance meetings, don't you? That's where you go when you say you have class."

Khushi froze, her hand holding the trowel tightly. Her knuckles whitened, and her face blanched as she looked up at him. She swallowed nervously, keeping her gaze focused on the plant in front of her.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're passionate about it."

"Doesn't mean I actively participate."

He ignored her, continuing as he regarded her carefully.

"Ma doesn't approve, does she? That's why Papa, Anju and you have come up with the class'."

Khushi sighed, giving up. There was no use denying it.

"Sakshi Ma worries about us. Times are changing, it's not like it was when she was in college. It's a good movement, with some of the most brilliant minds behind it."

Arnav scoffed, cynicism dripping from his voice.

"Brilliant minds that waste their time on movements like these."

He saw the flicker of anger in her eyes that was quickly suppressed, the way her jaw tightened. It satisfied him in an odd way. He was tired of them carefully avoiding the difficult topics, the tiptoeing unnerving him.

"I think you need to actually spend some time in India before you make a judgement about us."

Her voice was carefully light, but there was a tense silence after that, with the two of them walking on eggshells.

Neither of them wanted to revert to the icy hatred from before.

Arnav looked at her, mulling over his decision. He could let the tension simmer, or he could break it, taking the risk of alienating her.

But if he didn't take the risk, they would dance around each other forever, and he wasn't sure how much he liked that.

"The Raizadas are a well known family of loyalists, Khushi. I'm surprised Papa lets Anju and you participate in a wayward rebel group."

He heard Khushi take a deep breath, looking up at him. He waited, wondering whether he had ruined all the progress they had made. But then, Khushi smiled, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Some things are complicated, Arnavji."

He smiled slightly, digging into the soil once more. Khushi felt her own smile widen, the tension broken.

*********

Arnav stepped into the house after running some errands for his mother a month later, placing the bags on the ground. He heard voices in the sitting room, the sounds of laughter ringing through the house.

He walked into the sitting room to see a blushing Anjali, seated next to another man. He narrowed his eyes, noticing the way the man's eyes lingered on his sister.

"Chote? We were just wondering where you were! Come, sit."

He walked over slowly to the couch, sinking down beside Khushi. She shifted slightly, putting distance between them, looking straight ahead. The conversation continued as if he had never interrupted.

Arnav looked between the man and his sister, slightly disgruntled. He was sitting entirely too close to her, and they would share the occasional, secretive smile.

"That's Aman Mathur. He's here to ask for Anju's hand in marriage."

Khushi murmured, keeping a smile plastered on her face. Arnav whipped around to face her, completely shocked.

"Don't. Now is not the time."

He gritted his teeth, irate at the fact that no one had thought to consult him before proceeding with this.

"Why don't you and Aman go and talk for a while?"

Anju smiled bashfully, carefully adjusting her sari and indicating Aman to follow her. The parents watched them fondly, delighted smiles on their faces.

"I'll take these in."

Khushi stood up, collecting the cups and making her way into the kitchen.

"Ma, I'm going to go finish some work."

They barely nodded, immersed in their conversation. He struggled to control his irritation, stalking out of the room with his fists clenched.

He stepped into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He silently observed Khushi, watching as she washed the dishes.

"How long has this been going on?"

His voice was low and hard, but Khushi didn't flinch, calmly continuing to soap up the cups.

"About a year."

"And no one thought to stop it?"

"You won't be able to find anyone better for your sister, Arnavji."

She turned around, grabbing the towel. She could see the vein ticking in his jaw, his eyes flashing with repressed anger.

"How would you know? What if he takes advantage of her?"

"He's going to marry her, Arnavji. Commitment isn't an issue."

Arnav fell silent, glancing off to the side. She sighed heavily, turning back around.

"They met at the resistance meetings. Aman is our leader, and he's one of the most level-headed, compassionate people I have met. He adores Anjali, and he's only waited this long to propose because he wanted her to finish her education. Since she's graduating this year, he finally decided to make it official."

"He's a part of the resistance?"

She heard the disdain in his voice, and forced herself to control her temper.

"Why? Does it surprise you that a member of the resistance isn't a radical, violent rebel?"

"Frankly, yes, it does."

He could see her back stiffen, the familiar signs of her anger beginning to creep in. For some reason, it was incredibly satisfying. He had missed sparring with her, seeing the flush of anger in her face. He could see the tension in her jaw, the deep breaths she was taking to control her irritation.

"I hope you realize that the majority of us are nonviolent. Haven't you heard of Gandhiji?"

"I have. But I don't think he'll succeed. You can't beat the British empire with a bunch of fasting Indians."

She whirled around, her eyes glimmering with barely masked fury.

"You know what? I-"

"Khushi! Kahan kho gayi tum?"

"Aayi, Sakshi Ma!"

She gave him one last glare, before stalking out of the room.

He followed closely behind, stepping into the room to see a furiously blushing Anjali standing just millimeters apart from Aman. They both were clearly trying to hold in their joy, and Anju's eyes sparkled with happiness.

"I take it that it is a yes from both of you?"

Ashok asked wryly, a small smirk quirking up the side of his lips. Aman and Anjali both nodded, sharing a glance before quickly looking away.

Arnav opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced with an angry glance from Khushi, who threw her arms around Anjali in a hug. Ashok and Sakshi busied themselves in discussing specfics with Aman's parents, detailing the date of the engagement and planning to consult the astrologer.

"I'm so happy for you!"

She leaned in closer, murmuring in Anjali's ear.

"Of course, I always knew."

She gave her a wink, and Anjali's blush only deepened.

Arnav felt distinctly out of place as everyone chattered around him, animatedly discussing the impending wedding.

He hadn't even known that his sister had fallen in love.

He slipped out of the room, disappearing towards his favorite spot near the rose bushes. He ran a hand through his hair, fingering the soft petals as he pressed his lips together tightly.

He could feel his throat tighten with tears that threatened to fall, and hastily wiped them away.

This was ridiculous.

He should be thrilled that his younger sister was getting married.

He smelled the faint scent of floral perfume, and turned around to see Khushi standing next to him, two trowels in her hand. She silently handed one to him, before settling next to him on the ground, sticking it into the dirt.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, with Arnav digging out the weeds with more force than strictly necessary.

"Sometimes, I feel as if... everything is happening without me."

"I didn't ask."

"You didn't ask directly, no. But you implied it, didn't you?"

He saw the slight smile at his reference to her words, but she stayed silent, simply listening.

"Hell, Khushi, I didn't even know that Anju loved someone. I'm her older brother. I should- I should know these things! I used to know everything about her. We were so close, before I left for England. I still remember her then, and now... she's just so grown up."

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair.

"I feel as if everyone has a life without me, and sometimes... it's like I'm outside of a window, looking in."

He slammed the trowel into the ground, swearing profusely as the dirt splattered.

"People change, Arnavji. It's been five years. Give it time. Maybe your place in their lives won't be the same as before, but it doesn't change their love for you."

She gave him a brief smile, her voice soft. Arnav felt himself relax, the tension leaving him slowly.

Arnav mulled over the lost moments between him and his family, wishing that he could have been there.

He wished he could have stepped forward and given Aman a hug, or congratulated him. He wished he would have said something, anything.

They worked in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts.

As Khushi got up, he reached out, grabbing her elbow. She turned around to look at him, confused. Her eyes searched his face worriedly, silently asking if everything was okay.

He paused before he said the next words, struggling to get them out. He rarely said them, believing that most of the time, they meant nothing.

His voice was quiet, gruff with emotion.

"Thank you, Khushi."

She looked up at him sharply, surprised. She hesitated, and then smiled tentatively, her gaze holding his.

*********

Note: And that's where I'll leave you for today! I hope you enjoyed it- 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.