Closer to You: ArHi SS [Upd 4/11/12] Note PG 20 - Page 5

Laad Governor! What on earth does he think of himself! That idiot, I can't believe he would do that and expect that poor man to just take it!

Ugh! He was so infuriating.

Hey Devi Maiya, I hate the fact that the first entry in my brand new diary had to start off with SUCH a bad day! I just can't stand that man! He is the embodiment of male egotism!

See, this is what happened.

I was walking home from college with Payal when suddenly a huge white SUV sped past us, as if he OWNED the darn road! And then the next thing you know, it's crashing into a poor man on a bike. I mean, sure, the guy had braked suddenly and without any reason at all, but still! If that idiot in the car wasn't going so fast, then he would have been able to stop in time, right? So anyway, he gets out of the car and starts screaming at the poor guy on the bike, who just sits there dumbfounded before politely trying to pacify that screaming dragon! He was being so polite! I was this close to going over there and giving that doofas a piece of my mind, but then Payal pulled me away, and I had to stay quiet. But Devi Maiya, the oddest thing happened. When we passed the two men who were still arguing, I noticed how handsome that arrogant jerk was. He really was.

You know, they say that all the hot guys are taken or gay. They always forget to mention the fact that the few hot guys left are too darn annoying to live with! Not that I know if he's not taken...or gay. O dear. What if he's gay?

Story of my life.

Arnav looked up from the first entry, "what the?" he whispered, confused. His face twisted in uncertainty, this was NOT Khushi's journal. It couldn't be! This seemed so...so unlike her. Had she really changed that much since they got married? He looked around the room, was this what his wife was like? Getting impatient, he flipped to the last page with writing, the first entry was from years ago, before their wedding even; the last page, however, was from a month ago.

It's all over, Devi Maiya. Just a little while longer and he can be happy again.

He looked up again, brow furrowed, over? What was over? Who was going to be happy again?

Him...Shyam?

Rage filled form, his fists clenched at the book as he stood up in fury. Shyam. Resentment coursed through his veins as the image of that man flashed before his eyes again. That man, with his wife. With a guttural, almost animalistic growl he flung the diary across the room. Swaying down the drink, Arnav barely felt the burning as it trickled down his throat. Seconds later the glass was following the diary, shattering to pieces on the floor and sending shrapnel spraying from the sheer force of its crash.

The cavernous walls of the Raizada bungalow seemed to shake as an irate Arnav stomped towards his bar, returning to the den with a bottle held possessively within his arms. There was no need for water tonight, he thought, who the hell gave a f**k what happened to his liver anyway.

Wasn't like he had a wife who loved him.

A couple swigs later he'd found the remote and was flipping channels during prime time. He finally settled on a man crying next to a hospital bed as a woman droned off about how he should accept that life doesn't always go how they want it, and they should move past it.

"Say it sister!" he called out to her, raising his bottle in a toast, "everyone should just admit life's a hellhole and get over it," he muttered, "no one ever really cares'"

Arnav began snickering as the man sobbed harder begging her to stay, "Loser," he said out loud, "like that's gonna cure whatever the hell she has!"

Stretching out on the couch he took a slow look around the room. For the past three years he had never stayed alone in this house. Maybe that's why he felt so weird. This house had more of Khushi Kumari Arnav Singh Raizada in it than Arnav Singh Raizada. He felt uneasy being here he realized.

Annoyed with his thought process he changed the channel, it was his damn house! He refused to feel out of place! Arnav dropped the remote onto the ground, adjusting his pillow so it'd be easier to take another gulp of man's best friend Johnny Walker. The hours stretched on, Arnav was of his way through the bottle while still watching TV. He glared at the flat screen, deciding prime time TV had nothing prime about it. Every channel had someone or the other crying, f**k this, he thought, like my life isn't a shithole already, I don't need their stupid problems.

He grasped the remote, changing the channel to what he'd been watching initially. Another man, supposedly named Arjun, was sobbing as another woman lay dying. "Why the hell do people keep dying on this damn thing!" grumbled Arnav. Finally giving up he turned off the TV, flinging the remote over his head, he heard the crack as it hit his granite flooring.

Sitting up he took sips from his bottle, why the hell was Arnav Singh Raizada sitting alone and drinking he mused. Why the hell isn't there some nameless s**t in bed with me?

He knew why.

And he cursed himself. Damned early childhood morals. He could never cheat on her'even after what she'd done. He wouldn't sink to her level, he told himself.

That's what he always told himself.

He only refused, willingly chose not to do so just so he could remind himself just how above her he was; he always ignored the small voice that snarled in the back of his head, mocking him with the truth.

Even after everything, he loved her too much to break the last piece of trust between them.

Arnav staggered up from the couch, arms flailing as he fell back, his body unable to balance itself. With a loud moan he slinked to the ground. How the hell would he get to his room now? He was bored too. Not tired though.

Bored.

He looked around, other than the useless TV the only things in the room meant for amusement were magazines, most with titles like Filmfare and Stardust, there was National Geographic, but who wanted to read about mummies? Then his eyes moved to focus on the aggravating little book which lay abandoned at the other end of the room, shattered glass flung across it.

He cocked his head to the side, studying the perturbing little book, should he give it a round two?