Rules Of Attraction#3 Chapter 37 02/10 Pg73 NEW! - Page 33

"Faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase."

~Martin Luther King Jr.

You know Arnav; she talks about you, like you put the stars in the sky. She loves you, I know that.

Those lines hit him like waves, deafening the confines of his mind every second, as that late afternoon in Goa, where Ajay had said those very lines to him, came back to him as he walked down one of the many alleyways of Delhi. Khushi could not love another, he thought, an artful smile playing on his parched lips. A faint drizzle had started sometime within the duration of this walk he was taking a few blocks away from the hotel where they were lodging at. Punching a few numbers on his phone, he was greeted by her raspy breathing, coming to him in quivers. She didn't say a word, not when he simply let the syllables of her name roll off his mouth, Khushi; not when he told her exactly what an imbecile he had been to storm out of their room like that, seething in anger that was as fragile as egg shells. "You know you are a terrible liar Khushi. First at the NSD campus and tonight..." he paused, breathing out an almost melancholic sigh. "You should know by now that no matter how hard you try to push me away, I'll always come back for you, always." He heard her cry on the other end, he knew she was trying to gulp in mouthfuls of air, in an attempt to calm herself, and that her eyes would be red and puffy, tired. "I'm coming home baby, just wait for me. I'll be back soon." He thought he heard a small okay, as he cut the line, his face, in synchrony with the calm residing inside his chest.

Some indolent afternoons after their rushed wedding revisited his mind, as he walked in the direction of the hotel. She would be looking at him, not a wink of sleep in those eyes; instead they were glazed with a film of enthralled adulation and love as she stared down at him. Through his half-lidded eyes he would watch her fingertips move over his throat, and then a dash of red, as her glossy nails would graze his lips. "You should seriously stop doing that Khushi," husky and hoarse, those words had always earned him her startled gasp seconds before she was under him, the hard planes of his chest skimming over her pliant softness. "Why?" his hands had then slid under the floral prints of her shirt, his mouth falling into the dip of navel. Khushi had sighed, momentarily forgetting that he had asked her something, instead just revelled in the ministrations of his lips which seemed to move upward slowly, his stubble bristling against her skin. "Why, what?" She had asked moments later. "Why do you look at me like that?" He had asked her. She had replied, a small smile on her face, lighting up the contours of her face, a gleam unexplainable in the hazel depths. "Just like that!" He had then kissed her forehead, before getting off the bed. He knew, Khushi would be closing her eyes and trying hard to memorize that moment, because he did the same lately. She had wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against the button-down white shirt, the way his hair flopped down against his brow. She never knew when things would change. This, these few days away from everything, every one, their clambering thoughts, had seemed perfect, in every sense.

Arnav sighed. She was doing it again- pushing him away. He knew this was almost perfunctory for her, her intent only intensifying after she had witnessed Ajay's predicament, post Shalini's departure. That moment, he silently resolved to have a talk with her, get some things straight into her head. Tell her, he wouldn't be letting go. Not ever.

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"Hey..." The door opened the second he rang the bell, and he was greeted by her soft, tremulant voice. He watched, a slow smile playing on his lips, her hands pale with worry, clamped on to the door handle, knuckles protuberant and blue. And as his glance flitted over her face- red, patterned with dried tears and bloodshot eyes made his smile slip off leading him to nip back whatever admonishing talk he had primed in his mind. "I'm sorry...sorry for storming out of the house like th---!" Arnav had begun talking when she cut him off almost irately, her eyes lustrous with a sheen of tears, unshed. "Shut up. Ju...just shut up!" Now the tears were flowing freely, unimpeded. "I would love to enter the house Khushi. You see my hands have started to ache a bit with all these McDonald packets!" Arnav smiled seeing a similar one seep through her face as she blew her nose and rubbed away her face austerely with her hands, simultaneously opening the door. "Good because I wasn't planning on cooking anyways!" As Khushi slurred away watching Arnav keep the couple of brown paper bags onto the dining table, she could help but cry a little more. She wanted to scream not cry. She felt debilitated, disabled, for her, for them, and sadly she didn't feel there was anything more she could do. What she had done hours ago felt like handing over on a plate what Ajay was going through, to Arnav, only its timing premature and the situation worse, much worse. Her head felt heavy; there was this internal noise in her head, similar to the unceasing movement of the gong of a cymbal, which made her question everything she did. On one hand she wanted to salvage Arnav from inexorable grief, agony. On the other, she just wanted to slip into the bed next to him every night and not think for once but let him do it. Let him pamper her, take care of her, just like he wanted to. Was it too much to ask, she wondered even then.

It was only a matter of time when Arnav's arms came around her, holding her steady for a long, long time. Not speaking a word, yet a riot of conflicting emotions pulsated through their minds, through their bodies. They were both shouting out invisible words, each valid in their own stance. They felt weary, tired. "Promise me you'll never pull on a stunt like this every again. Promise me that you'll at least try, try to not push me away every time you start thinking about the what-would-happen-afters. Can you do that Khushi?" He felt her nod against his neck, as his hands caressed her hair, dropping to her back. As he watched outside of one of the windows, he watched the night sky. Dusk, he realized then, was just an illusion, because the sun was either above the horizon or below it. And that meant that day and night were linked in a way that few things were; there couldn't be one without the other, yet they couldn't exist at the same time. How it would feel, he wondered, to be always together, yet forever apart?*

*The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

Song: Sigh No More

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We are almost at the end of the journey. I think four more chapters to go. To all the people who are still reading the story, thank you. It means a lot.