Khushi pulled Anjali to her feet, for one final dance before she would remove the mehendi that adorned her hands and feet. The music was by no measure good or well-rehearsed, but contagious none the less. Khushi could feel the first beads of moisture breaking across her forehead and pulled her hair into a small bun at the nape of her neck. Adjusting the pallu that had once again slipped off her shoulder, she cursed herself for wearing something so heavy on a hot, summer day. Though the moss green sari she had chosen was beautiful and had instantly caught her eye when she'd began getting ready for today's festivities, it had perhaps not been the wisest choice. But somehow, she felt as though she was more than just a wedding planner that evening. She felt like a friend. And a friend owed it to give it her best while getting ready.
Anjali, for that matter, looked like an angel as she flitted across the room, due to both the delicate orange sari that hugged her curves and the 100 watt smile that lit her face. She had giggled when Aman was caught sneaking peeks from the recreation hall's small windows and had shyly asked Nani if her to-be husband and bandwagon of friends could join in the celebrations. After a little further convincing from Khushi, a beaming Aman had been ushered inside and stationed directly beside his fiance, from where had had already started looking for his name in the intricate patterns on her arms.
The sight of them whispering in each other's ears made Khushi smile.
She had no grievances with Anjali. She could have blamed her, chastised her and held her eternally guilty for the way in which the events of her life had panned out, but in retrospect, and despite what she'd told Arnav in a moment of weakness, Khushi had realized that the fault of her circumstances had perhaps been her own. Arnav had been guilty too, of course, for refusing to let basic logic refute his sick misgivings about her. But Khushi Kumari Gupta had also been too weak, too powerless, too frightened. She cursed herself for not slapping Arnav across his face, when he had accused her of sleeping with a married man. She cursed herself for pleading on her knees and begging for someone who did not deserve her explanations, to recognize her innocence and accept her. What had Anjali's fault been? She had been blinded by dangerous devotion, manipulated by unthinkable evil and taken advantage of.
No, she did not blame Anjali.
But she envied her.
Khushi Gupta could not have wished for a happier life -- she had been blessed with a husband whom she loved madly and children that she could not live without. But normalcy had come at a heavy price - he had wasted months of her life in agony and despair. She had withered away to flesh and bones, had been broken to such an extent that she the slightest touch of her own husband would make her flinch. But Anjali... had fallen in love again with ease. She had, of course, seen a marriage fall apart and had faced the brunt of her own blindness, but she had the constant support of her family while she had done so. She had Aman's support. She had Arnav's support. Anjali Raizada had not faced the worst phase of her life in solitude, falling asleep by the cold tiles of the poolside and shivering as the rain began to pour. She could still feel those dark eyes boring into her, dancing with rage and fire, as they unblinkingly watched her suffer from behind a window pane.
"Khushi?"
She flinched as someone touched her shoulder, and turned to meet the very eyes that had been trailing her thoughts.
"Huh?", she stumbled, confused.
"I said your dori is open."
***
Arnav had watched her from a far, and despite trying to dissuade himself from approaching her, he could not deter his natural instincts. Some habits died hard. And it was doubly hard, his gut wrenched, when a woman looked as beautiful as Khushi Gupta did that evening. She had worn a traditional, moss green kanjeevaram sari and much to his heart's pleasure, braided her hair along her back, much like she usually would in her younger days. Strings of jasmine had cascaded down her tresses and past her shoulders, and a large red bindi rested between her brows. Arnav, despite the promise he had made to maintain a safe distance, had ogled shamelessly. While Aman's eyes had eagerly sought Anjali, he had peered through the recreation hall windows and almost instantly shifted his gaze to rest on Khushi. His heart pounded as the braid loosened and unraveled by the force of her dumkas, the clean strings of jasmine falling apart from her hair. When the pallu of her sari fell, his throat felt dry, as he remembered a flash of red and the first time he'd stopped to appraise her beauty.
Even as all the groomsmen were invited inside the hall, his eyes did not leave her, and watched in avid interest as her dori loosened, unknotted and then fell in two open strings along her back. Arnav had seen his share of skin, had his share of sex and felt his share of attraction, but the stirrings of desire he felt from her bare back peeking beneath a curtain of thick hair quickly began weakening his resolve to let her go. His fingers itched to touch her, to feel her, all while his conscience cautioned him against it.
But it was when she tightened her hair in that loose bun, giving his eyes complete access to what they were trying so hard to ignore, that he lost his last ounce of control. His feet moved swiftly, his body threatening to give into its primal desire if the two blasted strings weren't secured and tied tightly together again.
And so now there he was, informing his ex-wife of her open dori, feeling rather uncomfortable due to her fazed expression and lack of quick action.
"I said your dori is open," he repeated.
"Oh." The thought seemed to have finally settled, as she pulled at her hairband and let her long tresses fall back into place. Arnav ignored the sharp pang of disappointment.
"Thanks," she murmured, moving towards the restroom.
"Uh.. Khushi?" His foolish heart wouldn't let her leave just yet. Not when he'd just gathered the insurmountable courage it took him to approach her. But what to say? What to do?
"I had to tell you something"
"Go ahead." She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to continue. To his pleasant surprise, he couldn't trace any animosity in her eyes. No hatred. No loathing. They were clear hazel, attentive.
"Actually, I'm leaving for India tomorrow. Right after the wedding."
"I know. Di told me."
She raised an eyebrow when he didn't offer anything else. "Is that all, Arnav?"
"No," he quickly answered, still unwilling to let her go.
There was so much to be said, but so little he was willing to say.
How could he tell her that he so deeply loved her, and would love her until his last breath? How could he tell her that he was ready to let her go despite what he felt? That he was happy she had settled down with a man who deserved her? How could he tell her that he was ready to pay for his grave error, by moving forward without her by his side? That he'd wronged her, and would live with the consequences for the rest of his life?
"I'm sorry."
Her eyes glazed over and he heard her breath leave her lungs. Of course that's what he needed to say... it's what he should have said so long ago.
"What?" she piped, disappointed that her voice was not cooperating.
"I'm sorry, Khushi" Arnav said a bit louder, with growing conviction. "I'm sorry for not believing you even when you begged me to. I'm sorry for what I've said to you, what I've done to you, what I've put you through. I'm so... so sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but knowing fully well that I'll never see you again after Di's wedding, I need to say this when I have the chance. I'm sorry, Khushi. I'm really very sorry"
Arnav did not wait for her to accept or deny his apology, and turned to walk away before she could gather her nerves or formulate a response.
Because he knew in his own heart of hearts, that whether or not Khushi would forgive him, he would never be able to forgive himself.
______________________
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: I M M E R S E D
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Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Anupamaa
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