Jaane Doh Naa
-CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE-
A Woman Scorned
The
fashion show was a success.
As
numerous celebrities and business personnel flew in from all over the country
to witness the annul Fashion Week of Pune, they were pleasantly surprised and
impressed with the opening show. They admired every single item of the Bridal
Collection, mesmerized with its delicate embroidery and sometimes jealously
astonished with its intricate design. By the end, there wasn't a single person
present who didn't admire AK's Seams of
Style.
So
it was only fitting that they all stood up in applause when the designers
walked on stage, gracefully accepting the praise. Not even one of them
suspected how nervous the two confident owners actually were.
Khushi
stared at the crowd assembled, her heart thudding with the sudden attention.
Her eyes searched the front rows, partly blinded by the flashes of the media,
looking for the man she knew would be present; the man who pushed her strengths
and made up for her weaknesses. She was out of luck, however.
Beside
her was a smiling Ayesha, who despite her confident stance was a nervous wreck.
It was she, alone of the two, who realized the importance of being the opening
show. The bar of expectations was raised high and only time would tell if they
came close.
Reporters
scurried to them as the crowd began to disassemble, some eager to leave for
home, others for the after-party not far from the venue. However, Ayesha and
Khushi were trapped with relentless questions.
"Is
it true this is your last show together? Aren't you both separating after
this?"
"Rubbish!"
Ayesha answered. "Where do you guys come up with such things?"
"Didn't
both of you stay at Arnav Singh Raizada's house last week in Delhi?"
"Yes,
but that was a friendly visit. Not everything is business between us."
"There
are rumors that Ms. Khushi actually is related to Mr. Raizada. Surely-"
"Surely
it is a personal matter," Ayesha replied hotly. "It would be highly appreciated
if we can stick to questions about the fashion show."
And
it went on. It was almost an hour later that they were finally given the chance
to leave for the after-party.
"Unbelievable,"
Ayesha muttered, as she slid into the driver's seat and Khushi into the
passenger. "These stupid media people ask too many questions and that too
irrelevant ones!"
Khushi
nodded in agreement. Like always, she mostly maintained silence through the
interview.
"I
wonder how they found about you and Arnav though," Ayesha wondered out loud.
"It's
obvious," Khushi said quietly. "We have the same last name…"
"You
okay?" Ayesha asked, glancing at her. "You seemed off the whole day…"
Khushi
chose not to answer. In truth, she was disappointed.
She
hoped her farewell at the airport would bring a new beginning, a new chance in
her life, but it seemed that she was expecting too much. Arnav Singh Raizada
was far from loving her, perhaps more farther than she could hope of forgetting
him.
For
the past one week he kept away from her, she desperately wished that he was
thinking about her unsaid offer of friendship, her silent plea to start over
again, this time their disastrous contract marriage not overshadowing their
feelings. It was clear that he wasn't. Why else would he not come to the show? And
even if he did (he was after all financing the whole thing), why did he not
greet her and wish her luck?
Her
eyes flickered to her arms on which rested the bangles he had once gifted her.
She had adorned them knowing he would be here… but he let her down, flushing
away her childish hope for a new beginning along with it. It appeared that they
were just never meant to be, not lovers, not friends and for that matter, not
even enemies.
And
it was with these thoughts that she entered the party, where she half-heartedly
accepted the congratulations being spread her way before being dragged away by
an excited Rohit, who demanded a catch-up with her.
Ayesha
sighed at Khushi's silence, before setting off to get herself a drink, when she
found her path blocked by-
"Why,
hello Nayan," she said with a smirk. "I have to say, I'm surprised to see you
here. Not pleased, but definitely surprised."
Nayan
was too enraged to care. "What the hell is this?!"
Ayesha
didn't have to look at the piece of paper he was holding up to know what it
was. "Court notice. I thought you knew how to read."
"It's
not funny," he snapped. "You know
perfectly well what I mean. How dare you send me a court notice?"
She
raised an eyebrow. "Dare? I think I should be asking you that… how dare you steal my designs? And not to mention
sleeping with me, lying to me and oh, how could I forget, cheating on me?"
Nayan
gritted his teeth.
"Getting
mad?" she mocked. "Or should I say frustrated? To be honest, I didn't give two
hoots about you until you gave that interview last week… what did you say? "Ayesha
Kapoor is mentally unstable. That's why she lost control and slapped me two
years ago"?"
He
averted his eyes.
"Unbelievable
Nayan," she said vehemently. "I didn't think you could stoop this low… luckily,
your interviewer happened to be my close friend. I got a call as soon as you
left! Little tip – next time, do your homework before hiring a random reporter
to write nonsense about other people."
Nayan
looked up guiltily, opening his mouth of reply but deciding against it in the
nick of time. However, it was enough for Ayesha to understand what really was going on.
"You
didn't hire him," she said, reading his expression. And suddenly realization
dawned. "Ohh… I get it. Nina hired
him."
Again,
he didn't reply.
"Even
more pathetic Nayan… you let her pull your strings. Do you have any
self-respect at all?"
She
shook her head in disgust before walking away, when-
"You
are not going to win this case Ayesha," he said. "You have no proof whatsoever.
Withdraw your charges and save us both
from a waste of time."
Ayesha
turned around and to his surprise, let out a laugh. "Waste of time? On the
contrary, I think it's going to prove very useful."
"There
is no proof-"
"That
you stole my designs? Probably not… but for the amount of time it will take to prove that there is no proof, will be enough.
And in that time, just imagine the amount of publicity the issue will get."
Nayan
simply gazed at her, not understanding her point.
"The
headlines," she continued. "Will be something like "Ayesha Kapoor sues
ex-boyfriend for plagiarism; will she get justice?" or how about, "The story of
a wronged woman – for how long will the atrocities continue?" So, whatever
little business you have left, will be finished. And you will have no hope of
reviving it, given your image as a cheat. You see Nayan, people, real people that is, don't need proof
like the court. They think with their heart, so they will definitely side with
me. And even if they don't, the doubt will be enough to make you go out of
business."
He
was too stunned to speak.
"So,
good luck Nayan Dasgupta. See you in court!"
She
gave one last scornful look before walking off to the bar, feeling deeply
satisfied.
"That
was very commendable Ms. Kapoor."
Ayesha
looked up to see Aman approach her with a smile. "What is?"
"What
you said back there to Nayan..."
"Do
you eavesdrop on everything?"
He
shook his head. "I just happen to be in the right place at the wrong time. I
was passing by when I saw you two talking."
"Well
he deserves it," she muttered, sipping the wine she ordered.
"That
he does," Aman agreed. "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell
a fury like a woman scorned. He should have known better."
"You
like Shakespeare?"
Aman
smiled. "It's actually William Congreve who wrote that… not Shakespeare."
"Really?!
You sure?"
"Yes…
I am very sure. It's always misattributed to Shakespeare, not that he, himself hasn't
written admirable things."
Ayesha
was surprised. "So you like reading?"
"English
was favorite subject in school."
"Then
why get job in AR Designs?"
"As
opposed to?
"As
opposed to doing artsy English stuff… like being an editor in some publishing
firm or if you are good author, then writing books."
"Ohh…
well, it's a long story."
"I
have time," she said. And when he hesitated, she patted the seat beside her at
the bar. "What would you like to drink?"
He
gingerly sat down. "Juice, if they serve any."
Ayesha's
eyebrows shot up. "You do realize we are at a "page-3" type party?"
"Of
course I realize… I haven't been to many "other" types of parties to get
confused."
"Of
course," she said, more to herself than him. "I should haven know."
"That
I'm a boring type of person?"
Ayesha
bit her lip, not wanting to accept that he voiced the exact opinion in her
head. She turned to the bar tender and said,
"Can you get him a berry forest please?"
Aman
sighed.
"What?"
she asked, catching his expression.
"You
are just getting me fancy fruit
juice."
Ayesha
rolled her eyes. "It's my treat if you are worried about the price. And what's
your problem with alcohol anyway?"
"My
issue is not with the price. It's with the attempt to make everything look extravagant
and unnecessarily obnoxious. And I don't have any problems with alcohol."
"And
what Mr. Mathur," Ayesha said dramatically. "would happen to such a lavish
party if we serve drinks that can be found at home or even the roadside?"
"It
would become enjoyable."
"Yeah
right," she answered, with a snort.
Aman
wasn't disheartened. He met enough people to expect such an answer. "Look
around," he said, his eyes roaming across the beautifully decorated banquet
hall.
"All
these people, you think they are having fun? Most of them are trying their best
to stay trim and proper, so they look good in all the pictures that are going
to be printed in the papers tomorrow. They don't laugh too much or eat too much
and some of them even stay away people they like in case a reporter gets the
wrong idea. It's miserable."
Ayesha
followed his gaze, noticing the quiet murmurs of conversation along the room as
she did. He was right – people were
conscious of themselves.
"And
even you for that matter," he continued. "I don't think wine is your choice of
drink nor a saree, your choice of outfit."
Ayesha
glanced down at her lap. She had indeed donned a saree – a simple black and white printed saree with a yellow cultured pallu
– for the occasion. However, it was simply because of Khushi's insistence. And
yet, she couldn't get herself to press her point, because her choice of attire,
had she been able to pick, would be something along the lines of a simple,
cotton dress, which definitely wouldn't be allowed.
"Fine,"
she agreed, stubbornly. "This party is not fun. But that doesn't mean other
parties aren't fun either."
Aman
snorted. "Trust me Ms. Kapoor. It's the same thing!"
"No,
it isn't! I don't know if you are speaking from experience, but if you are,
then clearly you were with the wrong people. You should party with me. Then you will know exactly what you
are missing!"
"And
what if I said the same thing to you?"
Ayesha
appeared to debate the idea silently, before settling on her reply. "Okay. How
about I show you my fun and you show
me yours?"
Aman
almost smiled. "If you insist."
She
stretched out her hand. "Deal?"
He
shook it. "Deal."
* * *
Arnav
let out a sigh as he stood silently away from the excitement of the party,
waiting for the time it would be appropriate for him to leave. Of course, he
would receive good bashing for such a decision, namely from Ayesha, but she
knew nothing of his troubles, and hence, his helplessness.
The
past one week wasn't easy for him.
He
purposefully delayed his return to Pune, with the intention of distancing
himself from Khushi, hoping that their murky relationship would be easier to
end without his constant presence in her life. However, that didn't mean, he
didn't miss her because he did. A lot.
It
was as he watched her gracefully walk onto the ramp that evening, bowing to the
applause she earned with her exceptional designs, that he understood what he
was losing. Clad in a simple red chiffon sari with a printed blouse, she looked
breath taking in the illuminated hall. Her hair was left open, cascading
beautifully down her slender back, as her eyes, kohled in black, searched the
crowd unquestionably for him. But what wiped the wind out of him were the
bangles she adorned on her arms. Red and gold in color, they glimmered
exotically into the night, reminding him of the time he gifted them to her.
It
should be no surprise she held on to them. Just like the mangalsutra and not to mention his name… but he was still
pleasantly shocked to see them.
And
despite the joy he experienced with just the sight of her, he couldn't ignore
the gloom engulfing him. With their contract coming to an end, this night was
the last he was ever going to see of her. Simply because she deserved someone
else, someone who could be the Prince Charming she dreamed of. Not him, with
his complicated past and difficult family.
And
even as this thought struck, Arnav couldn't help but notice the definite
changes that occurred in the past one week. For one, his sister seemed to have
transformed completely. He still remembered the night she walked into Raizada
mansion, having been absent for an entire day, drenched and shivering,
accompanied by a solemn Karan. If things could any be any more astonishing, it
was her bursting into laughter at dinner that night at a joke that no one apart
from her found funny. It was as if she never met someone called Shyam Manohar
Jha.
He
tried many times in the days that followed to know what caused such a drastic
change. But Anjali would brush him off, and increasingly became even more
cheerful. Not that Arnav was complaining. In fact, he welcomed this happy,
joyful Anjali with open arms for she brought the lost smiles of the Raizada
clan along with her. Everyone was beyond ecstatic and he finally knew that his
family was complete. Well, as complete as it was ever to going get without
Khushi's presence, which of course, no one wanted to talk about.
"Arnav?"
He
turned around to see an expectant Ayesha.
"Hey,"
he greeted dully.
"You
are late," she said sternly. "It was our
show and you weren't even there!"
"I
was," he answered calmly. "You just couldn't see me."
"My
point remains – you weren't there!
When did you come back?"
"This
morning."
"And
you didn't tell me because…?"
Arnav
glanced at Khushi, who was caught in a conversation with a fellow guest. His
eyes kept track of her the entire party, partly because he couldn't ignore her,
and partly to ensure there was a good a distance between them.
"Is
this some other Manju act of yours?" Ayesha asked, exasperated.
"I
thought you guys were busy and didn't want to be interrupted."
Ayesha
didn't reply, and instead peered skeptically at him, almost reminding Arnav of
his sister. She too often gazed at him like that whenever she knew he was being
untruthful.
"Anyway,"
he said, uncomfortable under Ayesha's unwavering eyes. "Congrats on the show!
You did it!"
"We did it," she corrected. "And she
missed you by the way. A lot."
"Did
she tell you that?"
"No…
but I know. She wasn't herself ever
since we came back and it's because of you."
"I
know," he answered, looking at the floor. "A lot of things are because of me."
Ayesha
groaned. "What is wrong with you? Why
are you being so… so depressing?!"
"Drop
it Ayesha," he said with a sigh. "It's almost over… tomorrow this time, it will
all be okay."
However,
his reassuring words only enraged her.
"You
know what?" she retorted, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the center
of the room. "You are stupid! That too a big
one. But I'm not going to let your stupidity get in the way of your life."
"What
are you doing?" he exclaimed, trying pull his arm away from her grasp.
"Proving
to you that she did miss you!"
And
after one last heave she dropped his arm. Arnav looked around to see that she had
dragged him to the dance floor.
"What-"
"Shut
up," she ordered and to his surprise snaked her arms around his neck.
"Ayesh-"
"Tell
me if she is looking," she said quietly, ignoring his attempts to put space
between them.
"Who?!"
"Khushi," she said exasperatedly.
Arnav
looked past her to see that he had a perfect view of Khushi, still talking to
the same person as before, and she of him.
"No,"
he told Ayesha, without taking eyes off the former.
"She
will."
And
sure enough, it was only a few moments before Khushi glanced up to the spot
where he was standing previously. A line appeared on her perfect face as she
began to search the crowd before resting upon his face. Their eyes met for the
briefest of seconds before he looked back down at Ayesha.
"What
do you plan on doing exactly?"
Ayesha
grinned, before stepping even closer to him, her tall frame pressing against his.
"Dance," she whispered.
Arnav
was too stunned to obey. He stood rigidly as Ayesha began to shake her hips,
trailing a finger down the side of his face.
"No,"
he objected realizing her intentions and trying to take a step back.
She
tightened her arms around him. "Trust me!"
"No,"
he repeated. "This is not right Ayesha. Me and Khushi have enough things going
on without-"
"Look
at me," she hissed, cupping his face in one hand. "Now casually glance at
Khushi and tell me what she is doing."
He
didn't object, simply because he was desperate to see her face as well. As
instructed, he looked up to notice that Khushi was still standing there, but no
longer talking. She was watching them closely and he saw the slightest flicker
of hurt cross her face. And it was enough.
"Stop
it," he muttered, before wrenching Ayesha's arms off him, not caring if he was being
rude. "I'm not doing this!"
"Arnav-"
He
didn't pay heed to her explanations and glanced hurriedly in Khushi's
direction. But the damage was done.
She
was gone.
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