Closer to You: ArHi SS [Upd 4/11/12] Note PG 20

He snapped the laptop closed as the chauffeured SUV pulled into the modern villa which served as his home base. Without a word of appreciation to his driver of 3 years, Arnav Singh Raizada strolled towards the closed door to his house. His anger mounted as it stayed shut despite every step he took towards it, how dare she not open the damn door! He was two steps away when the door opened to reveal his day time maid. Glaring at the elderly woman, he arrogantly shoved his laptop bag into her hands, "Where the hell did she go?" he demanded. The quivering woman bit her lip, "wo...sirji, she has gone na?"

Arnav let out a sigh of frustration, of course, the maharani had gone to visit his sister and grandmother in another part of Delhi, she wouldn't be back for a few days, he remembered her telling him, but as usual, he hadn't paid much attention'

"Arnavji?"

He barely gave her a look ok acknowledgement as he furiously worked at his laptop; after a few moments of silence he sighed exasperatedly, "What?" he barked, "spit it out!"

He noted her shrinking back out of the corner of his eyes, her hands nervously fiddling with her dupatta as she tried to speak. "I- That is-I-"

"TELL ME DAMN IT!" he interrupted, looking up, "I don't have time for your nonsense!"

"Ji! Wo- actually, I was wondering if it would be ok if I went to visit Naniji and Anjali Di for a few days, it's been a long time since we saw them na? I won't be gone long, I promise, I'll come back soon."

He smirked derisively at her, "Newsflash Miss Khushi Kumari Gupta, I don't give a damn what the hell you do or where the hell you go; go to Disneyland for all I care, at least I wouldn't have to see your unsightly face every day."

Khushi didn't say a word, nodding silently she turned to leave, not even trying to brush away the tears that rolled down her hollowed cheeks, like her husband had said, he didn't give a damn what happened to her, it was made obvious with his swift return to the work at hand.

So then why did he have to remind himself that every time he shredded her self confidence to bits and pieces?

Arnav sat back on the sofa, drink in hand as he stretched out his legs. His life was easy by most people's standards; he was rich, influential, and most importantly, perfectly aware of how attractive women found him. So why the hell had he ended up falling for, and marrying such a stupid girl? He'd never know, hell, he didn't even know why they were even still married. Sure, his Di and Nani seemed to dote on her, but was that enough to hold this sham or a marriage together? Like it or not, married they were, and he'd realized just how used to her presence he was when he'd appeared at the dinner table to find his maid waiting for him instead of her tense petite form. He'd told Mira Bai to scat, waiting until the sound of her closing the door after her exit reached his ears to slump in his seat and pick at his food.

Dinners were usually spent with her silent presence across from him, the only words spoken were inquiries of he wanted a refill; he realized now just how he'd gotten comfortable with that edgy silence when it gave way to this empty silence. Cursing himself, he'd settled down with a drink in the den, wanting to forget anything and everything to do with the girl that was supposedly his wife. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada, not that he ever called her that, he used her maiden name, a constant jab at his refusal to accept her, in which he found great pleasure.

Rolling his head to release the pressure, he decided he would watch some quality television to get his mind off of her. Usually he'd stayed buried in work, a not so subtle attempt to stay as far away from her as possible; as if the ten hours spent at his office wasn't enough. He eyed the coffee table, which surprisingly lay in disarray, for the remote. One of the benefits of marrying Khushi was how she tended to keep the house spotless, everything was neatly kept in its designated place, not a dust mite in sight, not a single paper lying around, except here he noted.

Sitting up straighter he took a look around his, well their den. It looked more like her own haven with random possessions of hers strewn around; he hadn't been here in more than two years. The obsessive compulsive neat freakiness didn't extend to her own living spaces he supposed. Rolling his eyes in disdain he searched for the remote, moving about a stack of magazines in hopes they would reveal the sleek black object to him. As he tossed the monthlies to the side, he caught sight of a light blue notebook flying out from amidst them. Curiosity getting the best of him, he approached the item slowly, picking it up he slowly grinned widely, in his hands, was a goldmine.

Her diary.