ArShi OS: Pick up the phone Arnav.

She hit the redial button again and again as her attempts got desperate. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that flowed down like a forlorn river.

"Pick up the phone Arnav" she whispered to the darkness, her voice shaking uncontrollably as she glanced at the clock over and over again.

Arnav leaned back in the seat of his car, his phone ringing continually, piercing the silent surroundings. His fist was clenched, his head pounding a dreadful headache.

He knew who was calling him. He knew she was worried.

3 months ago, he would have known it was his Di, understood her frantic attempts of reaching her Chotte, but he knew intuitively that this time it wasn't his Di.

It was Khushi, his wife.

But again, this ordeal would never have taken place three months ago.

He closed his eyes and threw his ringing phone across the passenger seat, rising and holding his throbbing head in his hands as he heard something shatter.

He looked to his side and saw the cracked window, the broken remains of his phone.

Now there was complete silence.

The line went dead and Khushi went stone cold.

The line was dead, it no longer rang.

The phone fell from her numb fingers, clattering against the bedroom floor. She slid down slowly, her back pressing onto the cold glass of the poolside door.

It was so cold, like her heart.

More tears made their way across her face, dripping down her cheek, onto her knees that were clenched in front of her.

Dreadful thoughts of what could have happened raced in her mind, darkening her soul with their impact.

Accident'

"Nahi!" Khushi almost screamed, "aisa kuch nahi hua hai'woh bilkul theek hai. Mein jaanti hoon woh bilkul theek hai."

She got up and wiped her face furiously. Grabbing the landline phone, she rang Arnav's assistant.

His gaze rested on the windshield in front of him, on the scene in front of him.

There was no sound. No people.

No nothing.

He fixed his stare at his broken phone and groaned, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

"Why?" he screamed, lifting his head to the sky. "Why me? Why do I give so much pain to everyone? To the people I love? To my Khushi?"

He wanted to shout at God, wanted to howl with the anger threatening to burst from within him.

Instead pain and sadness took over his voice, prompting only an agonizing growl.

He lifted his face and swallowed, his visage twisting into a mask of sadness and fury. Growling unconsciously as pulled on his seat belt, he started to reverse.

As he drove aimlessly, a twisted smile formed on his face.

He was such a sadist; he loved tormenting people, didn't he?

No! He thought vehemently as he braked suddenly. That was before he fell in love with his wonderful Khushi.

Her goodness, her kindness was better than that.

Their love was better than that.

His unjustified anger had always been a hindrance and it stood in their path today.

It had threatened to destroy them before, it threatened to destroy them today.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"No" he promised himself, "hell no, f**k no. I will not let this come between us. I will never let anything come between us Khushi. Never."

His iron will was unbendable, and for the first time in many years, he was immensely proud of it.

He backed out from the lonely alley and onto the colorful boulevard of his life.

Khushi's laughing face flashed in front of him as his mouth formed a genuine, thankful smile.

Khushi's hopes slid down again, just as her body collapsed from the hunger, weakness and pain. She laid her heavy head on the door behind her as her body convulsed uncontrollably and spasms racked her frame.

She cried out, her whimpers bouncing off the silent walls. Breathing as deeply as she could, she counted the ripples of the pool reflected on the ceiling.

As the strength began to leave her body, she closed her eyes and did the only thing she could think of.

She called out to her Devi Maiya to save her Laad Governor.

Arnav drove through Delhi as fast as he could, his speed touching 80 kmph on the crowded roads. His patience was tested by each traffic light, each little jam.

But he made it home, nonetheless.

He snapped close his car door, the sound echoing around him.

It imitated his urgency to see the woman he loved.

His wife.

He punched in the security code and ran up the stairs, almost breaking his room's door.

He bolted inside, his eyes searching for her. He looked to the bed, but it was empty.

Panic overtaking him, he ran a shaking hand over his neck, wondering where she could be.

He roved his eyes around the room, flicking the lights on and plunging the room in brightness.

His eyes fell upon a petite form huddled at the corner of the poolside door.

"Khushi!"

He thought he screamed, but his voice came out in a mere whisper.

She didn't respond, she didn't even move. Worry overtook him as he touched her skin.

It was icy. Shockingly cold.

"Khushi!" he shook her, holding her shoulders.

His mind tightened further with fear when her body broke into a convulsion.

He didn't think twice, he grabbed the phone beside her and rang their family doctor.

"I need you here now!" Arnav screamed into the phone.

He disconnected the call when he heard Khushi whimper, her face twitching in a slight fashion.

He looked down at her worriedly, "Khushi? Talk to me, I know you're okay, you'll be fine." As he whispered comforting words to her, his subconscious mind noted that these words were used to offer comfort to him as well.

He lifted her in his arms, laying her gently atop the bed. Trying to recall the first aid techniques he had learnt years ago, he began to rub her hands, creating warmth and friction.

What was happening to her?

What was wrong? He'd never seen Khushi so sick, so weak.

So helpless.

"Where the hell is that doctor?" Arnav growled in an animalistic fashion, his throat almost ripping the words out.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang urgently and Arnav ran down to open the door.

"My room!" he snarled at the shaken, disheveled doctor.

He darted up the stairs, taking two at a time, while the slightly plump and short doctor struggled to keep up.

"What's wrong with my wife?" he demanded, motioning to the form on the bed as the doctor opened his briefcase and pulled out his stethoscope and thermometer.

"Shallow, so shallow" he heard Dr. Malhotra mutter under his breath.

An invisible fist clutched at his heart as a frown pleated the doctor's forehead while he read the thermometer.

Shaking his elderly head, he drew out a blood pressure machine and wound it around Khushi's weak arm, prompting a feeble whimper from her. "There there, Mrs. Raizada, don't worry, we've got you now" he calmed her.

Arnav's breathing had never been so deep, in the effort of relaxing himself as his wife lay frail and helpless in front of him.

He released a breath when the doctor stood up, his heart accelerating an uneven rhythm.

"Mr. Raizada" the doctor's gravelly voice started "did you know that your wife is a patient of acute Neurally Mediated Hypotension?"

Arnav could only stare at the doctor as he uttered those words. "What do you mean? I don't understand. She has Hypotension?"

"It's the opposite of what you have Mr. Raizada, you have diabetes, that leads sometimes to Hypertension. She has low blood pressure, specifically NMH that causes low blood pressure when the patient has been standing for very long."

Arnav couldn't believe what he was hearing. His energetic wife, the perpetual dancer and entertainer, had Hypotension? "But she's so energetic'" he told the doctor, voicing his disbelief.

"In many cases, acute or irregular NMH does not cause lethargy and the patient has no problems with energetic activities. However, when one skips meals or keeps fasts, they often faint."

He digested Dr. Malhotra's every word, his mind remembering the number of times she'd fainted when she hadn't eaten or drunk something. She was very, very prone to fainting, his analytical mind realized. And she'd never been able to stand for long, especially after bouts of sudden energy.

"She's healthy and this irregular NMH doesn't affect her daily life in a significant way, but'"

"But what?' Arnav's keen eyes snapped to the kind man's face, as he gritted out the question. The doctor took a step back at the fury in the young mans' eyes and looked to the young woman resting on the bed.

"Something triggered this off. As I said, she is perfectly healthy and nothing in her medical reports suggests that NMH is a problem-"

"You knew of her condition?" Arnav accused him, his temper dangerously close to exploding.

"Yes Mr. Raizada, but doctor-patient confidentiality is an integral thing and I repeat, she has NEVER had such a threat as she did today. There was something that provoked this. What it was, I have no idea, but I'm glad you found her. The only basics I know of are that her body, blood pressure and temperature confirm that she has consumed no food and water in the past 18 hours and that is fatal to her condition." He told Arnav.

"It is quite possible that she has a headache when she wakes up, along with some shallow breathing. If it gets too bad, which I am sure it won't; here are some painkillers and an inhaler."

He thrust the medicines into Arnav's hand, anxious to see him relax.

His eyes focused on the woman's concerned husband, worry making him move forward and lay a hand on the angry young mans' shoulder. "Beta, tum chinta mat karo, just take care of her. I advise complete bed rest for another day along with plenty of fluids and salts. She will be fine."

Arnav stood motionless, his face etched into a grave mask of self-loathing. He nodded at the doctor, indicating that he had heard everything the old man had said, relieving the poor man of his tension.

"Mein chalta hoon." He started to move, "Arrey nahi beta, tum uske saath raho. She feels comfortable with you, jab tum uske paas the, her breathing was deeper and pulse steadier. Stay." He smiled at Arnav and left, closing the door behind him.

And Arnav broke.

Completely. Everything around him, everything inside him shattered.

He sank onto the bed beside Khushi, covering her now-slightly warm hands with his own. Rubbing her fingers, he kissed her palm and felt her damp wrist.

Damp?

Only then did he realize that there were tear tracks under his eyes.

He was crying. He hadn't cried since'

His mother had died. Since he'd been kicked out of his own house, since he'd had to bear his Di's tears every day.

Stretching out beside her, he brushed her hair away from her face, noting with another twinge of self-loathing how her lips lifted slightly when he touched her.

"Arnav" he heard her whisper, her usually jaunty voice now a broken note. "Yeah Khushi, I'm right here." He replied, his voice heavy.

"You're back" she sighed, her lips now cracking into weak, but wide smile. "I'm back gorgeous and I'm never leaving." He promised her, his voice tight as he kissed both her hands.

"I'm glad" she told him laughing slightly, nuzzling into his chest as she laid her cheek over his heart, her arms holding him to her. Arnav embraced her as well, his own hands cradling her petite frame, gently crushing her to his front. "I am too, my love. I am too"

And he fell asleep in the arms of his beautiful wife, her infectious laughter echoing in his ears.

How was it? Meh, decent? I would LOVE to hear from all of you. :) Have a GREAT day. :)

Buddy me for PM's people! And of course, My new FF!

Check it out if you have the time : https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/fan-fictions/3050159/arhiff-a-heartening-journey-pt20-pg147-pms-later