A small, (very!) simple, hopefully-happy little something I wrote after realising I've been writing too much angst lately :P Please excuse any inconsistencies - I've not read over this yet, sorry :s
ArHi OneShot |Scientifically Speaking|
Both Khushi's Buaji and his Mami appeared to be particularly fond of astronomy.
And they would never pass up a chance to bring it up.
It had started with a simple enough statement, a clichd enough observation.
Khushi looks like the moon, Buaji had said, all those days ago during theirhaldi. He had let his gaze settle on her to judge the merit of that statement himself.
And he had not been able to look away.
She was so stunning, so very divine.
Her creamy, flawless skin appeared to be glowing with an iridescence of its own, framed by the pure white and vivid red of flowers paying homage to her beauty. The rich brown of her glossy curls, pulled into an elaborate braid and bedecked with even more flowers, stood out even more in its darkness against the milky-white of her saree, as depthless and alluring as the night-sky.
Not fanciful by nature, Arnav nonetheless found himself mentally agreeing with Buaji's analogy.
He also decided that next to red, white had to be his second favourite colour on Khushi.
Soon to be his wife.
A heady mix of pleasure and possession had surged through him then, warming him from the inside out, and a heated smirk had twisted up the corner of his mouth.
And it had only hitched itself higher when those wide, bottomless eyes, liquid-liquor enough to intoxicate him at a glance, darted toward him and away again, the thick lashes framing them fluttering in a visible combination of nerves and thrill. A berry blush infused into the pearly smoothness of her cheeks.
Indulging himself as he was in the celestial beauty fidgeting and shifting away before him, it was a while before he recalled the throngs surrounding him, and a moment longer before he could bring himself to listen to what they were saying.
It was with something of a start and good dose of confusion that he realised his Mami had, for whatever reason, donned a pair of sunglasses.
Now if Khushi is the moon, then our Arnav bitwa is no less than the sun.
But that had been the limit of Arnav's sense of poetry. It had bothered him then, and bothered him even more now, and never failed to bother him every single time their aunts chose to address them thus, having taken a liking to those two nicknames for the newly married couple.
The sun and his moon.
But Arnav was, save for a few sentimental lapses regarding his wife, a rationalist. And as far as he was concerned, the whole analogy had now become flawed.
After all, even an elementary school student knew that the moon could never shine without the sun. That the moon's beams were borrowed from the sun's far-reaching rays, that it was that star around which the universe, or humanity's universe at the very least, revolved.
Scientifically speaking, that could only mean one thing.
He was not the sun.
Khushi was.
The rustle of bedclothes interrupted his line of thoughts, and Arnav lazily peeked through his still-drowsy eyelids to find his wife shuffling around under the duvet, shifting until she was on her side, facing him.
'Arnavji,' she mumbled around a yawn, her own eyelids cracking ever so slightly open. Her voice was thick with sleep, a few tangled strands of hair falling across her face, 'Good morning.'
And then she smiled at him. A tiny, cute, sleepy little smile that was gone almost as quickly as it came as the pull of her dreams enticed her back into their embrace.
But the smile that had broken out over his face as he had watched hers, wide and uninhibited, had remained.
Warmth blanketed his heart and wrapped it snugly, each beat sound and healthy as he carefully leaned closer to his snoozing wife, mumbling incoherently as she swayed in and out of sleep. Gliding one arm around her relaxed shoulders, he bent in even closer, and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.
'Good morning.'
His chin settled over her crown, and through his content, half-lidded stare he peered at the curtains drawn across the window.
The sun did not appear to have risen fully yet.
But that did not matter. He was holding his sun, and all the light and warmth he would ever need, right in his arms.
And as long as she was there, with his whole world revolving around her, he knew he would never have to worry about the darkness again.
Cricket
331