Arhi OS: Grown Ocean *THE END* NEW note -pg17* - Page 7

Go Arnav! Lovely update. Can't wait to read more. Please update soon.

Oh how badly I wish this happens in the show! This is so well written and brings out the delusional hypocrite in Anjali so, so perfectly. And Arnav! My precious! I love him! Who da man? He da man!
Can't wait for the next part!

And, erm, this might sound weird but OMG YOU WROTE FEELINGS?! I love lowve love love that story! Read it a looong time back and cried throughout. It was soo wonderful. I even wanted to comment but I lost the link and hehe y'know.. Couldn't find it after that! Shoulda known! Sorry. *cowers* That story is amazing, though! Will definitely read it again and the other one too. 😃

Anywho, enough of moi useless talk. Continue soon pleej. 😃

superb update .. read all three parts .loved it so much.. anjali u r really a brainless girl...continue soon..

I really hope this happens in the show :)

I really wish this happens onscreen, Khushi gets priority over everyone else...!!!!

Arhi OS: Grown Ocean: Part 4

"MA!"

His voice screamed out her name, the violent, despondent shock evident in the crack in his throat. He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide and disbelieving, his hand outstretched towards the woman who had just fallen off the balcony after the deafening gunshot, towards the woman who was his mother, his world.

He slowed down as he approached the stairs leading downstairs, his determination fading, his strength draining, his mind churning in a different world, racing to take him places he had left behind long ago, ripping apart wounds that had scabbed and healed, squeezing his throat so tight that he couldn't breathe, piercing his heart with a new gash so deep and painful that his hand clutched at his chest, tears finally streaking down his rough cheeks because destiny had won, again and again, again and again and again. He gasped, trying to surface, knowing that he had done it before, trying desperately to believe that he could do it again, that he could make it.

But this time -

He staggered to the railings, doubled over in pain, his body constricted with it, his eyes blindly searching for her in the coloured haze of lights and clothes and muffled voices.

But this time it is different.

He found her immediately, surrounded by her family. She looked - she was beautiful, ethereal, yet the sight made him feel sick. He retched, his throat dry, his head spinning, while reality crashed down on him again, pounding into his skull, beating him senseless, bashing his battered body and flesh and soul to the point of no return, and he heard the abyss calling, the darkness of the void rivaling thousands of black holes. The floor was tilted, and he had no choice but to slip and fall, to give in to the despair because there was nothing else to do, because that was what was expected from him from the very beginning, and he had been a fool to believe in anything otherwise.

Khushi.

What could he do? What did Arnav Singh Raizada do in these situations? He did not know, he was no more Arnav Singh Raizada. He was still that vulnerable boy who had been untimely torn apart from his mother's love, from innocence. The ASR mask he was desperate for had melted away a long, long time ago ' she had done it, and he had let her, he had foolishly let go of his one and only weapon, believing that he would never need it again, because he had her. He had shown everyone, even himself, who he truly was - no mask could hide him now, no mask could protect him.

"I trust you. I trust your love for me."

He had shown everyone he was capable of loving, of feeling.

He had shown her his true self, the man who had yearned and yearned for her, desperate to be loved back, wanting nothing more because she did, she did love him back.

"What do I do?" he panted, slumped against the railings, his voice strained and trembling, sobs wrenching out of his throat, his head in his arms, his back turned to his world waiting for him downstairs.

"What do I do, Khushi? What do I do? Tell me! Tell me, dammit! Tell me what I should do!"

I can't betray you this way, Ma, I can't. I can't tie myself to the woman who took your life.

I can't.

I could never forgive myself if I did.

But -

He craned his neck so that he could partly see her, and he saw her darting eyes hovering towards where he sat. In a flash, he had yanked one of the dcor curtains behind his back, hiding him from her. But he knew she knew, he knew she knew he was there, he knew she knew he was there and yet was not coming to her.

Khushi.

What do I do, Ma?

I know you would have told me to go to her,

I know you would have happily blessed me to marry her.

Because I promised her -

Because I love her -

Because I can't live without her.

But how can I live with her?

The muffled voices from downstairs grew to a swell, the whispers loud and frantic, cruel and unforgiving. He felt himself resisting, wanting to go far back in time, back when he had her all to himself in a desolate mandir, when he could have just done the goddamned pheras.

And then they could have dealt with this together. No matter what, they would have been bound legally together, as well as tied spiritually in the absurd world everybody else defined as absolute finality.

Regret, it was all regret. For a moment, he was filled with regret so intense in nature that he bit his lips, hard, drawing metallic blood, in a wildly desperate but vain attempt to numb it out.

But as it was, he had done nothing, and now it was too late.

And they would never be one.

*

"Daadi," whispered Anjali. "Look, he hasn't gone downstairs yet. Does that mean -"

"No," she said sharply, her brain calculative as she looked at her grandson huddled behind the railings, looking small and weak, reeking of anguish, but she knew better.

"But - but maybe I could go to him, try again -"

"Bitiya," she said gently, resting a hand on her cheeks. "Go to your room. Damaadji is there. Freshen up, spend some time with him, and then come find me. I will handle everything here."

"But - Chotey -"

"Don't you trust me? Don't you trust your husband?"

"Of course I do, Daadi!" she replied, smiling.

"Then go."

*

He heard the heavy, sure footsteps, and anger boiled up inside. The accusations, the lies, and Shyam - they were both in it together, he knew it now. He put up his hand, blocking hers from reaching his face.

She, it seemed, was not to be deterred.

"Arnav," she began, her voice firm. "It's time. They are all waiting for you."

He looked away, biting the insides of his cheeks to stop the anger or the tears from spilling out, to stop the sudden, unexplainable surge of hatred that he felt for this woman standing before him.

"Arnav," she said again, louder this time as though warning him. "If you don't go down and tell them and cancel the wedding, then I will."

His head snapped up at this and he got his feet, a different feeling coursing through his veins, his blood pumping away at the speed of light. And he felt the heat of her command give way to a new thought, a new belief that was strong, that flared with hope, that had barely two words - I won't!

His eyes widened with surprise, and he said it again, louder in his mind, relief thundering across his chest as the fog cleared, as a pair of hazel eyes looked at him in love and pure trust, as raised lips took his.

"Arnav! Are you even listening? I said, go downstairs and cancel the wedding!"

He looked at her, struck by the foulness in her mind, the venom in her heart. Khushi was not like this, Khushi let go of wounds, Khushi forgave, despite everything he had put her through she had still said she never regretted any spent moment with him, she forgave, she moved on, she was his, she was his Khushi.

And as that realization struck him like lightening, he felt his heart lifting, soaring, his eyes shut close in utter gratefulness, the darkness behind his lids welcoming, his mind flying to the skies where the stars shone brightly in the darkness, the stars that were never afraid of the stretching emptiness, the stars that continued to pulse and twinkle in the black velvet.

And just like that, he knew his mother would never forgive him if he walked away.

And he knew he would never forgive himself, even more so if he walked away.

He would never be happy.

She would never be happy.

And they were all that mattered, just like he had told her in the beginning.

"If none of those things matter to you then what does?"

"THAT I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT!"

And Daadi was rendered speechless as the grief disappeared from his face, as the lines of agony etched onto his face crumpled and faded as his eyes grew soft and warm, as his lips curled upwards, as he stood up straighter, confident, as his body turned and faced the stairs. Panicking, she started towards him and quickly blocked his way, spreading her arms wide, making sure he stayed, making sure he would not go and spoil the whole thing -

"Arnav! I said, cancel this good for nothing wedding and send that witch away! Remember your mother! She would have never wanted this, never wanted you to tie such a sacred bond with her murderer, with her husband's - with your father's lover! Remember that her mother killed yours!"

The words stung, rightly so, but he knew his mother better than anyone in the world, and he knew his Khushi. He would no longer cower under doubt - there simply was none. And that made all the difference between this time and the last.

Because there was only one person he wanted to go to during this terrible turn of events. Only one person he wanted to be with, for forever and ever.

And it was his wife, his Khushi.

Not the daughter of his father's lover, not the daughter of his mother's killer, but his own goddamned wife. Khushi.

And as he took one more step, he knew he was actually doing the right thing for once in his life.

He met her eyes and she fumbled with her stance, her arms weakening, dreading, absolutely dreading the sudden shift of spirit emanating from him, as though he knew something nobody else did.

"No."

"What?" she spluttered at him, rage clouding her vision in a haze of red.

"I said, no, I won't cancel my wedding."

And with that, Arnav Singh Raizada bumped past her, not caring that she had stumbled, not caring about anything or anyone else other than his wife, his wife, his Khushi, his life, and the truth he knew, the truth that amazed him, the truth that held so much power that it astounded him.

"I will not let this happen, Arnav!"

He looked at his grandmother over his shoulder, sparing her a snide glance and then looking away again.

"Just try and stop me."

*

They saw him running down the stairs, almost flying through the loud, whispering crowd, sprinting towards the mandap where the bride waited, her head bowed, her eyes smudged, cheeks stained with tears. They saw him grab her arm and pull her to her feet, and they saw scorching eyes meeting despairing ones. And then he pulled her into his arms.

*

ok. i'm terrible. but seriously. IT JUST WOULD NOT END.
it's all that hate for daadi coming out in spurts and surges, i swear to god.
fifth part coming soon!
hope you liked this one!

or comment even if you did not like it.

cuz then, you know, i would know, and i would tike, yeah, like, totally try and work on it. kay?
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edit after watching september 28th episode: this is the end. i am not continuing with this OS.
thank you everyone for reading!
there's a new note on page 17.