Chapter 6 : Animosity
"They can't hurt you unless you let them"
-Anonymous
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"He can stay."
She had lost to her father once again.
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Arnav's eyes snapped to the woman who stood ramrod straight in the corner. Her tone was angry, yet it was also somewhat defeated. Almost as if she had no choice.
He sighed and looked to the couple still waiting silently at the door. Arnav nodded at them, hoping to ease their worry. They smiled hesitantly at him and cast a furtive look at the quiet woman. Without another word, they left.
His eyes however, remained fixated upon the body of the woman who was now shaking slightly. Worry furrowed his brows at her reaction, and he moved forward to comfort her.
But even before he could have lifted his feet, the woman in question whirled around.
"Dont.touch.me"
Arnav froze at the fury in her words and took a step back. Her sphinx eyes followed that movement, and a cold sneer twisted her lips.
"That's better. You have the permission to live in this house. Not to toy with me. Are we clear on that Mr. Raizada?"
He raised his eyebrows and looked straight into her violet eyes.
"What gives you the idea that I would like to toy with you, Ms. Sen?"
She laughed. But it wasn't a natural laugh. No, it was a mockery. And she was mocking him. Arnav bristled at the action and opened his mouth to reply, but her words came first.
"I am not blind Mr. Raizada, and you are deluding yourself if you think the contrary."
He stood still as she rolled the syllables in a bored manner, her eyes snapping rapidly between his chest and forehead. Arnav's body tightened at her insolent statement, yet his dreams reminded him that she was not wrong.
In fact, she was exactly right.
The woman's eyebrows rose as she contemplated his reaction, and then turned around. She raised a nimble hand and pointed to the narrow hallway leading out of the kitchen.
"Your room is at the end of this lane. It is not big, but if you wish to stay here; It will have to suffice."
Arnav refused to say anything, merely caught his backpack and stealthily walked to where she had signaled. He felt her walk behind him, that scent of hers invading his mind.
She smelt like life, but one that was buried in layers of death.
How did one do that, he wondered.
As they reached the end of the lane, she moved forward and withdrew some keys that hung at her waist. In her hasty removal, he saw the aanchal of her carmine saree ride up to showcase a taut abdomen.
His body reacted to that image, his erotic dreams playing in front of his eyes like a reel.
She twisted the heavy key into the lock and pushed against it slightly. It gave away after a few seconds to reveal a tight room, furnished only with basic necessities.
A cot lay in the right corner of the room, and a writing desk to its left. A kerosene lamp, so much like the one he'd seen in the kitchen, lay silently atop the old wood. Over the cot a window was carved into the wall. The metal that ran from top to bottom disturbed him. It reminded him too much of the orphanage. Of being a prisoner.
Of that time in the elevator...
He snapped away from his thoughts and walked towards the window. A soft breeze blew through the bars and silently caressed his face. His eyes closed in an instinctual reaction, and he felt at peace.
A sudden burst of light from his left made him turn to the source of the interruption.
She was striking a match, and bringing it to light the lantern's flame. Her eyes glowed in the abrupt fire from the wick and violent lenses jumped in a lively fashion.
The saffron light threw the features of her unconventional face into sharp relief, and the gold nose ring glimmered subtly. Her aquiline nose, the one she kept perpetually in the air twitched slightly as she readjusted the lamp. And her lips. Soft and tempting, contrary to the words that escaped her mouth; lay highlighted and darkened to a more conspicuous red.
Why though?
Why did such a beautiful woman emit the pain of a lifetime?
Once again, a frown etched a few lines on his forehead. Anurag had told him nothing about this. Hell, he'd only gotten to know that his guardian had a daughter two weeks ago!
And why, why was this woman haunting his dreams for the past ten years?
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Khushi saw the man's warm eyes drift away from the present. She perceived that he was disturbed, and something concerning her was bothering him.
No matter what their current situation, no matter that he was connected to the man she hated the most; Khushi still wished to comfort him. How, she did not know. Why, she did not understand.
And that is why she was scared.
Why did she have dreams of this man? She had never met him before, never heard of him before-she didn't even know that he existed.
After the first time he had appeared in her fantasies, Khushi had branded herslef a madwoman. After all, that term was not new to her, was it?
She had only just moved to Darjeeling a mere eight years ago. Afraid at first to return to this...doomed place. But returned she had. Although fear had made a permanent habitat in her bones, it was now accompanied by rage.
Rage so deep, dark and volatile that she had made herself notorious for it. People in the places she had stayed called her a daayan. They feared her.
She almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation.
She was the one who was afraid. She was the one who was scared to open her eyes in the morning.
But if people feared her, then her purpose had been achieved. Khushi longed for silence. A silence so profound that it would beat upon her ears. Rather than rage, she wished to feel another feeling. Just feel.
But the dreams that he-the man standing ahead of her-gifted to Khushi, opened her eyes to another emotion.
Desire.
Raw, blatant Desire.
She fisted her hands in the material of her cotton saree, and opened her shuttered eyes. He was still standing in front of the window, his own eyes closed as well.
Khushi took in a light breath and moved forward to light the lamp.
Quietly like a spirit, she struck the match and inhaled the familiar perfume. She looked at it for a moment; her eyes discerning with alarming clarity how the blue separated from the yellow. To others the colors appeared merged, but Khushi saw the individual threads make up the flames quite prominently.
She lay the lantern over the table and then bent down to place it in the center. This way there was more light in the cramped atmosphere, and the flame cast Shadows all over the room.
Khushi knew, without bothering to spare the man beside her a glance, that he was looking at her. No, not looking-observing.
He had this uncanny manner of taking in things, she noticed. He did not watch things, he learnt and made changes that adhered to his own bent of mind.
Almost as if he was...sketching her.
Making a portrait in his mind of the things he observed around him. Painting them-
Khushi physically took a step away from the man in question and breathed deeply. He was impacting her. And that too within a few minutes of his arrival.
How would she survive?
If her father's letter was anything to go by-and with that thought her mouth twisted unpleasantly; the man would be staying for a long time.
Oh how Khushi wished that provocation didn't force her to do unwanted things. That the slight reminder of being Anurag Sen's daughter didn't make her want to fall upon the ground in shame.
Another sneer lifted her lips.
Oh but that bas***d knew exactly what to do to make her submit didn't he?
Khushi exhaled and snapped her head tightly to the left. He had a frown upon his forehead now. A forehead which would have been perfect, if not marked by that small scar.
She turned away from his inscrutable gaze and prepared to walk out of the door.
But she halted.
With one hand at the wooden frame, she threw the man behind a glance over her shoulder.
"Since you seem to love Anurag that much, you'll be glad to know that this was his room."
And with those casually uttered words, she left.
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*All this work is solely mine. You will be committing a crime by copying it
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Edited by dreamyshadows - 12 years ago
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