Khushi excused herself to go to the washroom, giving Ram the opportunity to lash on Arnav incredulously.
"That girl is your girlfriend?" he spat.
Arnav shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw hardened instantly. "Yes, why?"
"Are you out of your mind, Arnav? Why-?" Ram sighed. "She's such a gem, why the hell haven't you married her yet?"
"Wha-" Arnav frowned. Mr Dhawan's words were taking quite a while to sink in but when they did, he chuckled heartily. "Thank you for complimenting my choice, Mr Dhawan, but I want to give us more time before jumping into something."
Ram shook his head with a gentle smile. "You're being stupid! I would have married her on the day I met her if I were you!"
***
"Mr Dhawan is really nice, isn't he?" Khushi chirped as she handed him the glass of water and sank in the suede loveseat close to him.
Arnav grinned, wrapping his arm around of her shoulders to pull her into him. "Yeah."
She curled her feet under her. "He reminds me of your father."
"Really?" he laughed. "Maybe... He's the kind of typical father figure, right?"
"Is feels nice to have someone like him in this big city far from home, you know?"
He rested his head on her shoulder after he had gulped down the water and hmm-ed in approval. "You sure you... okay, kind of... with my mother?"
"What happened, Arnav?" her brow crumpled.
"Nothing," he lifted his head to look at her. "She said she wanted to have lunch with you tomorrow. You know... to... know you better? Do you mind?"
She smiled at the gleam in his expectant eyes. They no longer seemed to belong to the Arnav Singh Raizada she knew. They belonged to a much younger boy she could only imagine. And she would do anything to please that boy who lived in the man she loved.
***
She bustled into the restaurant, hoping she was not too late because if Arnav and Varsha had the same views on punctuality, she was going to get herself grilled.
"Hi!" she panted as she reached Varsha Singhania's table. "I'm sorry, traffic..."
Khushi received what resembled the coldest smile ever and she slid down into her chair with her cheeks burning.
"So, Khushi?" Varsha's lips drew into a thin line. "How are you?"
Of course, it was merely out of forced politeness. She didn't seem to care about Khushi's health and proved it seconds later by already speaking before Khushi had even opened her mouth to reply.
"Since when have you been dating my son?"
Something in her tone bit Khushi but she did not flinch. Instead she stared back at the woman.
"Your son?" she asked with faked innocence.
"Arnav, my son."
Khushi frowned. "But had you not asked him to relent from addressing you as his mother?"
That made Varsha shuffle uneasily. She cleared her voice before answering coolly. "I did, but he still is my son. I gave birth to him. And I asked him not to call me mother because I know I am not worth it. I realise that I was absent from his life for a long time. It's just the woman who raised him who has that right."
It took Khushi a lot of effort to prevent her jaw from dropping. Judging her words, Varsha could not be such a bad person after all. In fact, didn't she seem to have a character matching to her son's, as she had called him?
Both had this tendency to coat themselves in something hard, impenetrable, sour and bitter at the same time. But she had been able to make her Arnav open up to her and he was sweeter than any chocolate. Could his biological mother be the same?
***
She woke up to a kiss on her forehead and his scent.
"Arnav?" she mumbled at she pried her eyes open. He was grinning down at her and she suddenly felt herself being lifted off the couch. Her hands fisted around his collar immediately and Khushi snuggled her head on his shoulder, holding on to him for life.
She glanced at the clock as they passed by it on the way to her room. It was already one in the morning.
"How was your day?" he whispered as he gently dropped her on the bed.
"Fine," she yawned. "Why do you work so late?"
"I need to, Khushi," Arnav chuckled, kissing the inside of her wrist. "And lunch with my... with Varsha?"
She smiled at him slowly. "It was okay. She can be nice if I try her, I think."
***
With a sigh, she dumped the cubes of tomato in the large blue bowl. He would be late again. He had been for the past three weeks. And he would be in a foul mood again. If she still was awake when he did come, they could perhaps have another fight.
Khushi stared into the sink with pricky eyes as the memory of their last fight only a week ago flashed back to her. It had been about his mother; not Pavitra, Varsha. Ram Dhawan had come by that day with a plea. Arnav was over-doing for her. He was giving her an allowance way too high instead of saving the money for the investments they would need to make to stabilize the business in America. He had dispatched a whole team to be at the beck and call of his mother, who supposedly was founding some kind of institution.
Ram had tried to reason with him, but Arnav was adamant. So, Ram had thought he might listen to Khushi. He had been wrong. She had coaxed the matter into the conversation gently by bringing up Varsha. She had pretended not knowing anything but things had gone bad eventually. When she had asked what was the need to do so much because Varsha was much richer than him anyway, Arnav had lost his mind.
She had not seen him since then but he had never stopped putting her back into bed. He had never stopped eating what she kept in the oven for him. She sniffed and started shredding the mint leaves. She had fallen in love with him, she had chosen to be with him anywhere, anyhow. She would live with it.
Because she knew that deep down, he was too soft. And despite everything, the love would always be there.
Suddenly, Khushi felt herself being pulled back against what felt like a wall and hauled up off her feet before a prickly kiss had been smacked on her cheek. She was still in that shocked daze but her 'attacker' did not give her time to react or recover. She was turned around violent to be pressed between the counter and him.
"Hey!" he chuckled in her ear. "Happy Valentine's Day."
He pulled back to let her see his smiling face as he produced a bunch of blood red roses from behind his back. He was early. And he was not in a foul mood. But she was still upset.
Khushi turned away and went back to her mint leaves. "What's so happy about it?"
"I'm trying to woo you back, Khushi," he moaned, his voice drenched in childish hurt. "At least accept the flowers. They didn't do anything wrong, did they?"
She pursed her lips and tried to concentrate on her task rather than on the kissed that were peppering all over her shoulder.
"Please," he breathed regretfully. "I know I shouldn't have shouted at you like that, I'm sorry... Okay, I also realised that I've been f**king things," he stopped to chuckle when she craned her neck to stare at him with wide eyes. "I have been f**king things up very badly, lately, and I've been asking sorry too, pretty without learning from it... But... Right. Don't forgive me if you don't want to... but take the roses, they'll feel bad if you don't."
He placed them near her on the counter top and stepped back to lean against the island. "You're not going to talk to me, right?" he asked tonelessly.
Khushi turned a deaf ear to him and went on making the salad until she felt him move. She was already expecting him to hug her from behind and shower her with apologies but that never came. Instead, when she turned around, she was alone in the kitchen and the only signs of his returning home some time were the roses, his scent that lingered in the air and the slam of the apartment door...
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