KHUSHI by Maya (EPISODE 008)
LET'S GO HOME. No other three-word sentence could have terrified Arnav Singh Raizada more. Had Khushi said I-love-you he would have been less uneasy. But this? This was simply brutal.
Despite all that he had done to damage her, this beautiful-pagal creature trusted him. She was naive about men. But he knew better. He knew he could not be trusted in matters pertaining to Khushi. Without any grasp of what she was inviting, the foolish girl was tearing down all the walls which had kept his desire in check. This afternoon she staked her claim to half the bed. And now these three words! Let's go home.
There was only one thing to do.
He turned to his sister and said, "Di, we're going home." At the same time, he gave a tug on Khushi's hand to indicate they were leaving. He must have tugged more forcefully than he realized because he felt Khushi's soft weight crash into his shoulder. She threw him a cross look, and readjusted her pallu, which had been crushed by the impact.
"Abhi? But, the film----" Anjali began, and then paused as she saw Khushi's face, "----you two have not quarrelled, have you?" Her voice was teasing.
Before Arnav could assure her, someone else spoke, in a tone equally teasing, but with words which stabbed like daggers. "Rani Sahiba, I think you're right. I wonder which one will be forced to sleep by the pool tonight."
Heat filled Arnav's head----the white heat of rage. Had the bas***d been watching them?! Had he watched Khushi sleep? Had he touched her? Each thought more vile than the previous; anger flooded him, pushing all sense and reason from his head. Within his hand, he felt Khushi's small hand tighten into a ball. She also was agitated----and this escalated his anger.
"Seems you have been observing us closely," Arnav gritted out the words, barely managing to keep the tone civil.
"My husband is only saying what we have all observed for months----you and Bhabhi love to lock horns," Anjali laughed.
His sister's defense of her worthless husband only irritated Arnav further. However, this was no time and place for confrontation. His revenge would be served cold.
Arnav dismissed Shyam with a statement insinuating more than his words. "Don't worry about us, Jijaji. Khushi and I enjoy a good fight. My wife has a talent for provoking me, but I know just how to subdue her."
He saw that his words caused Khushi to look up at him, but when he connected with her eyes, her gaze immediately lowered. A soft flush of colour tinted her cheeks.
"Take her home, Chotte," Anjali giggled, "you are embarrassing her now."
THEY LEFT THE CINEMA. He incensed; she mortified. Never a good combination. If they had both counted backwards from ten, they would have only managed to get to four before they unleashed their mutual wretched state upon each other in the cinema parking lot.
Arnav swung her towards him, her hand still in his, and barked, "how many times did I tell you not to leave the blankets by the pool?" He knew his aggression was misdirected, but marital spats were never rational, were they?
Khushi followed the same irrational path. Flinging his hand away, she countered, "how many times have I told you not to take my hand?"
"You didn't object to my kiss!"
He knew even before he heard her gasp that he had said the worst possible thing. Her eyes fell to the ground. She was silenced.
But Mr Raizada was nothing if not thorough. Once he had begun to dig his grave, he dug it well and deep. He had no idea why he was punishing her. Yet, he continued.
"You were wrong to go to the cinema without informing me," accusing her unjustly. We know, Sisters, how very unjust this was.
Her eyes shot up, and they blazed, matching fire with fire. "You were wrong to leave for your meeting without informing me."
"What----?" he stepped closer.
"You heard me," Khushi replied, back in form.
"Khushi, don't speak to me that way. I'm your husband!"
"So? I'm your wife!"
"Then be a wife," he replied, catching her shoulders and bringing her closer, his eyes bearing down upon her.
IF HE HAD RATTLED HER BONES into a neat and orderly pile on the ground, Khushi would not have felt it. She was dumbstruck by his words. She wilted, suspended only by the two hands which gripped her shoulders. He's right. I have not behaved as a wife should. She had betrayed a secret. She had broken the sanctity of trust between husband and wife. Even if theirs was not a real marriage, the vows were no less real. To her, at least.
All these days, she had borne a quiet anxiety about what Shyam would do with the knowledge of her forced wedding. Now she knew. Shyam would say just enough for Arnav to suspect. Arnav would then confront her. She would be forced to tell him everything. Anjali would suffer. And Arnavji would also suffer, her heart whispered.
Khushi felt hot tears of shame pool her eyes. I'll tell him everything now, she decided in that instant.
"Arnavji, I must----" she began.
But Arnav was already leading her to the car by her elbow. He opened the passenger door, guided her into the seat, reached across her torso to fasten the seatbelt----one click of the seatbelt, another click of the closed door. Her eyes followed his form as he walked around to the driver's side to take his seat.
His temper was tangible in the vehicle. The set of his jaw. The rough way he handled the car. The way he scrupulously avoided meeting her eyes. These were all thunderstorm warnings in that branch of science she now understood thoroughly. It was best to remain silent for now.
Khushi pressed the button to slide open the window. She needed fresh air to soothe her thoughts. Ever since she was a child, she had been plagued with the compulsion to immediately mend what she had broken. If an apology was appropriate or an expression of regret was called for, she felt the need to make it there-and-then and clear the air. But she had come to learn that Arnav received only that which he was ready for. He had eventually accepted her apology for scalding him with tea----but only after some time. She had to curtail her impulse and wait.
And she had to think of her sister. What would happen to Payal if Shyam's villainy was exposed? Arnav would immediately rid Shyam from his house. But would Payal be tainted for having kept his character secret? Her sister's marriage was so new. And on such fragile ground with Mami ready to dismiss her on the slightest provocation. Every path seemed fraught with risks. To tell or not to tell. That was the question. Khushi sighed.
ARNAV HEARD HER SIGH and felt all the regret of a man who had shot his own foot. Shyam was the thorn; Khushi was the flower----why did he repeatedly punish her for his sins? He winced remembering his careless words. Not only had he criticized her blameless conduct, but he had mortified her about the kiss.
He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was peering into the night, her thoughts unreadable. A breeze from the open window was gently stirring her hair. Had she grown in beauty? Or had he never done her justice. Earlier, when he had entered the theatre, and saw her standing at the end of the row, he had felt all the pride of a husband.
He had been in the company of many beautiful women----both professionally and socially----and with time, their beauty diminished because of familiarity. Not so with Khushi. He never tired of looking at her. Even when he believed her vile, he had noticed her. Perhaps because her loveliness was beyond a pretty face and pleasing figure. It was not just her eyes, but the liveliness behind them. It was not just her mouth, but what she said. It was her natural grace, her capacity for joy, her ability to feel deeply but not drown in it. It was her temper, her resilience, her tenderness, her----he now interrupted himself. He really was beginning to sound like a besotted youth.
However, that alarming realization didn't prevent his eyes from returning to her profile. He couldn't take her home now. At home there would be both emotional and physical distance between them; at least here in the car she was physically near. But nor could he keep her prisoner of the car all night. A fresh gust of night air lifted her hair so it blew across his face. He welcomed the soft tickle and inhaled her scent. She was unaware that a part of her had forgiven him already.
WHEN THE CAR STOPPED Khushi unsnapped her seatbelt and stepped out. Only then did she realize they were not outside Raizada House. They were at a late-night shopping plaza.
"We'll stop for coffee before going home," he responded to her unspoken question.
They were soon seated in the cafe and the waiter came immediately. Without consulting her, Arnav ordered some tea for her and coffee for himself.
"Would madam care to have a look at our cake display?" the waiter asked.
She gave a small negative shake of her head.
"Of course, she will," her husband said to the waiter, and smiled at Khushi.
It was only a smile. A small smile. But it was an Arnav Singh Raizada smile; one bestowed so rarely. Therefore more impactful. Her body flooded with sweet relief. She returned his smile, with a wider one of her own, and stood to follow the waiter. She had already stepped away but felt compelled to turn and look back. He was watching her. Her body filled with inexplicable giddy happiness.
ARNAV EXHALED SLOWLY. She had proffered him a smile. They had called a truce. They had both been angry. They both spoke carelessly when angry. That was their history. He watched her follow the waiter. She turned back for a brief moment, and then continued. His body responded to the gentle sway of her hips, the tail of her pallu floating behind her. And as she listened to the waiter chronicle the virtues of each variety, his eyes were bewitched by the changing expressions of her face. Soon a second waiter joined them. And then the cafe manager.
Arnav shook his head. She was a magnet. She would gather a dozen people around her and then after thirty minutes return with a dozen pieces of cake. An intervention was necessary.
He strode to where she was holding court and placed his hand at her waist, thereby calling her attention and also asserting his claim. But when she turned to speak to him, that hand slipped under her saree and met the soft curve of her tummy. His hand chose to remain there. The contact was not deliberate, Sisters, but as the gift had come to him, he accepted it. In any case, he knew Khushi would pull away.
But she did not pull away.
With her head tossed back, she met his eyes. Her own eyes lit with joy. "I can't decide," she confessed.
"I thought as much." He instructed the waiter, "we'll take one of each."
"No!" she laughed. "Ok, I have decided...I have decided to have...I'll have a slice of the black forest cake." They returned to their table. The waiter came along promptly with their tea and coffee and a giant slice of cake.
Arnav watched with silent carnal pleasure, as Khushi made her way through more than half the piece. Then he asked, "aren't you going to offer me even a bite?"
"No," she replied saucily. "You can't have sugar."
"One bite will not kill me."
She shook her head in firm refusal, and then playfully licked the tip of her fork in an act of temptation. As if he was not already aroused, this sent all his senses into a roiling dance deep in the pit of his belly.
The waiter returned to enquire how madam was enjoying the cake. Whether she was happy with her selection? Could he get her anything else? More tea? He received her replies and walked away beaming.
Was there anyone immune to her charm? It had taken her a week, but she had reconciled both families to their radical marriage. The climate at Raizada House was clear and sunny again, due entirely to her efforts. Yes, Raizada House would have to endure more storms in the coming months, but her presence made the prospect less grim.
"Khushi----" he heard himself begin, not quite sure where the sentence was heading.
But she must have thought he was repeating his request, because she extended a forkful of cake. She was handing him the fork, but he deliberately ignored it and leaned forward.
She did not hesitate. She fed him.
"Tasty?' she asked with a lifted eyebrow.
He chewed and swallowed and nodded. Tasty, indeed.
"Khushi----" he started again. This time absolutely clear on where this sentence had to go.
"Ji?" she looked up. He had her full attention.
"Will you be a complete wife to me?"
There was an extended moment of nothingness. All sound suspended.
And then came the unembellished word. "Yes."
Arnav's breath caught. The directness of her reply. The immediacy of her response. Both these told him to doubt. Obviously she hadn't understood him. She couldn't have! Because had she understood, she would not have said yes.' He had to remove all doubt. This was no time for ambiguity.
"Do you know what I mean by that, Khushi?"
She studied a spot on the tablecloth for a moment, then lifted her eyes to meet his. "You are asking if I will allow you to remove all distance between us."
Edited by JalebiJane - 7 years ago
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