PART ONE
"Haan Amma hum ghar pohoch gaye hain. Accha, baad mein baat karte hain. Abhi rakhte hain." Khushi struggled to balance her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she bent to place her duffle bag on the step. Peace, that is what Khushi had hoped for when she went to spend a week at her mother's, but how could she have achieved that when one man relentlessly plagued her mind every moment of her life?
But, it seemed to her, it was only in her mind that he now remained. Expecting Shantivan to be as deserted as before, with Akash and Payal having shifted to their own pad and Nani, Mama and Mami ji in Lucknow to meet up with a few relatives, Khushi found herself humming a soft tune as she rummaged through her voluminous handbag, standing on the porch. Not wanting to disturb the Prakash brothers, she struggled for a few minutes before she found the key, and turned it in the lock.
"Hi!" Khushi gasped, her bag slipping off her shoulder, as Arnav walked towards her, with a slight smile on his face. Calming her racing heartbeats, she let her eyes
drink in the sight of a man she had barely expected to be home before she slept.
Khushi, as always, waited for an explanation. But, Arnav, as always, saw no need for one. He seemed absolutely unfazed by the fact that he had, for the last two weeks, been returning home well after midnight, disturbing all Khushi's notions of marital bliss and harmony. A sudden anger erupted within Khushi, as she saw him so calm and unperturbed by her presence, while she had been pining all the time for him. His practical absence from her life, even while she was at Shantivan, had pushed her to spend seven days away from her husband.
Looking into his eyes, she wondered if he even missed her.
Unaware of the storm of emotions raging behind the glazed hazel eyes, Arnav snaked an arm around his young wife's waist and leaned in to kiss her lips, when Khushi turned aside. The smile on his face faded, when his sharp sight perceive that it wasn't shyness this time.
Nonetheless, he took her petite frame into a heated embrace and burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her flowery fragrance.
Arnav waited for Khushi to melt into his arms as usual, but Khushi remained distinctly unaffected by his touch. Placing her palms on his chest, she distanced herself from him and walked towards the kitchen, while he balled up his fists, in an attempt to reign in his infamous temper.
"I didn't know I would get such a wonderful welcome."
The sarcasm wasn't missed.
Khushi looked up to find her husband shed the mask of the lover she was barely acquainted with, and revert to that of the angry man she knew all too well.
She looked up to find his eyes hesitant with guilt as he looked upon her saddened face. Khushi almost smiled to herself - Arnav always knew when she was hurt, but he never knew how much.
But this time, Khushi couldn't find it in herself to make up an excuse for his flaws. Wasn't the pain evident?
The distance was becoming too much for her to bear. As if the latest happenings after their scandalous marriage weren't enough. Counting backwards from ten to one, Khushi put up a smile, with some effort and asked about his day.
Arnav leaned against the marble counter and took the freshly brewed black coffee from his wife's hands, looking at her with a searching eye. Noting mentally that there was something wrong with her, he decided to avoid a confrontation at present, and answered her questions instead.
"It was pretty tiring. I do feel that Dogre's messing up with the quotations. Aman's looking into the matter," Arnav said in a disengaged tone. Khushi silently admonished herself for stagnating their conversation. Mildly fidgeting with her fingers, she drew closer to Arnav, acutely aware of the sudden stillness in him as he measured her gestures.
The age-old flutter in her stomach arose as she saw him watching her with that dim spark glittering in his eyes. "Woh..." she began.
"Woh kya Khushi...?"
She almost blushed at his tone and cleared her throat. For a second, all her insecurities vaporized, and she coyly reached for his hand. Arnav gave a lopsided grin as he looked at his wife's advances. Deciding to mortify her further, he pretended innocence of her intentions, and focused on his coffee, letting the bittersweet liquid soothe his throat.
Tucking an invisible strand behind her ear, she tried again, "Woh hum soch rahe the..." when she was interrupted by the ringing of Arnav's cell phone. She was rudely shaken out of her tiny dreamworld, as Arnav drew his hand from hers and excused himself saying it was an important call.
"Yeah, Sheetal. Oh no, you didn't disturb me..." were the last words she could discern, as he walked with quick steps into their bedroom.
Sheetal.
The name stung her heart like poisonous fangs.
Sheetal Sahay, a single mother and the Marketing Head of Sierra - another fast rising fashion company. It was quite natural that she was welcomed into AR Fashions, once they bought over Sierra. It wasn't the fact that she was his classmate at Harvard, a university Khushi couldn't even pronounce; it was the fact that Sheetal and Arnav got along really well.
Smart, shrewd and sexy - three words to define Sheetal. She didn't even look like the mother of an eight year old. Sheetal was exactly the sort of woman that would be welcomed into Arnav's circles. Her dresses seemed straight out of the ramp and her personality was magnetic and intimidating. Khushi couldn't help but look at her Lucknowi cotton suit which flared awkwardly at her hips and breasts.
These were four years old.
As Khushi ran a hand through her hair, her fingers encountered a knot. She couldn't help but recall Sheetal's wine tipped layers. She spoke and cursed just like Arnav, and had an inimitable accent, while Khushi still said office with an a' and pronounced the h distinctly when saying phone.
But even that had not made her uneasy.
But when she started seeing a different side of Arnav coming to the fore, when he was with Sheetal, everything changed. She had seen a slightly carefree Arnav laugh when they recalled an old university joke, and glance affectionately at Sheetal when she pointed out to an old habit of his, that Khushi knew nothing of.
And Khushi didn't even want to think about Sheetal's son, Aarav, a splitting image of Arnav... No, she trusted Arnav from the bottom of her heart.
Placing her empty cup of chai in the sink, she headed towards the bathroom. Locking the door, she removed her dupatta, bindi and nose-pin. She looked at her own gloss in distaste - it was highly overstated. Wiping of the gloss with a tissue and throwing it into the bin, she looked at herself in the mirror and recalled the night when Arnav had looked at her as if she was all the ever existed.
The night of Diwali.
Many more festivals came but the passion in his eyes never returned.
Shaking her head, Khushi wiped her face before her hawk eyed husband caught the tell tale signs of her sobs. Khushi paused to smile a little. Even though his absence paved ways for her insecurities... his concern for her warmed her heart.
Even a tear when she sliced onions or a minor sprain due to her clumsy gait had him all worried for her.
Bunching her hair into a chignon, Khushi headed out to prepare dinner when her ears caught a husky laugh. She turned to see the remnants of a rare smile on Arnav's face. "Sheetal are you serious?" he chuckled slightly and paused when he found Khushi looking at him with something in her eyes.
An unfathomable emotion.
Khushi blinked hastily and gave him a smile that, despite her best efforts, failed to reach her eyes, and headed to the kitchen, giving finally in to the temptation of munching on a few piping hot jalebis .
As she held a jalebi close to her mouth, nibbling slowly at it, she thought of how it's taste had faded over time - just like her relationship. She tried to mentally assess the current scenario between them.
It was barely a month since they had actually proceeded into a husband wife relationship, after the Shyam fiasco, the contract marriage and the tumult of emotions on the revelation of her mother's role in the Maliks' lives. Yet, she never told that to Arnav because no matter how much he loved her, there was an evident lack of respect from his end.
The slight disgust on his face, when she had worn his ill fitted designer clothes and tried to mimic the English actors he seemed appreciative of, haunted her even now. Even though she skilfully hid it under her apologies, his expression and momentary lashing hurt her. His Thank God' when she went back to her salwars instead of helping her choose something which suited her, had made her feel exposed.
Arnav was indeed a one-piece, her devi maiyya had created him with a unique mold. It was so easy for him to shift situations and moods.He so casually could tell her in the morning that she had no brains or that she embarrassed him with her English, after a night hot with passion and emotion.
Was intimacy not holy for Arnav anymore? It meant reverence, devotion and faith - for her. How could he easily insult her after such a close night together?
Khushi felt goosebumps on her skin, as she was forced to think if the physical aspect of their relationship was all that mattered. Chewing on a few more jalebis, Khushi thought of each and every significant moment of their lives.
The way his hands curled around her waist, his barely there nails digging into her skin. Terror swept through her as well as a hot anxiety as she found his eyes darkening to ebony. Her lips trembled as she found him tracing shamelessly down to her heaving breasts, decolletage, lips and finally to her eyes. She could just helplessly hold on to his shoulders for support as he held her.
Her body was numb with the frightening warmth he exuded as he plastered her against himself, ripping off the dori that held the shoulders of her blouse together. She felt it, his eyes tracing down her flushed skin. Khushi had given her answer though, gentle that she was, by spreading her hair across her back. When she had turned to leave, she was shocked by the slight annoyance on his face for the fact that she had covered her bare back.
Khushi Kumari Gupta hated him.
Having known the man in front, Khushi expected for him to lash out the minute he saw her or even walk past her... but he stared at her. Just stared at her until Khushi showed the signs of recognition. She never understood why he had to stand so close, close enough to feel his breath on her ears, while he insulted her. Khushi could have sworn to see a slight glimmer when he saw the angry expression on her face. Did he enjoy jesting her?
Numb. Again. Her fingers felt clammy and weak and the red georgette saree seemed all too heavy. Her heart jumped to her mouth as he searched for her waist, breasts, neck and her face. She almost saw a soft smile which contradicted the fire and astonishment in his eyes. Yet he did one thing which left her weak kneed, he had turned to give her a smirk... to say that he has his eyes on her - always.
Why did he keep staring at her, holding on to her with a death like grip? Khushi never got over the annoyance on his face when she stepped away. The anger brimmed when she looked away, refused his coat and spurned his not so gentle advances of looking after herself. Her body kept on shaking, not because of the rain drenching her... because of his eyes taking in the view of her dress sticking to her like a second skin.
The poolside. For a second Khushi did feel a rush of warmth as he tenderly cared for his plants. Would he be, for a change, just as soft to her? She got her answer when he held on to her arms with a startling gentility, but then his eyes were more than enough to send shivers down her spine.
The dilapidated guesthouse. Khushi couldn't remember seeing eyes so beautiful as his shined with wonder, surprise and honest attraction. She kept staring back with hair flying into her face as he held on to her wrist, looking at her as if she was the only thing that existed in this world - apart from him. Dhak dhak, she heard that. All she remembered later was a gentle caress on her face.
The day before Teej.
Teej.
Office storeroom.
The poolside, again.
She could never understand the anger when she refused him to touch her, even if the gesture was just to show care. She could never understand why he would grip her and hold her so close till their breaths meshed together, to just stare at her till her heart beat against her ribs mercilessly. And then the infamous anger when he had to leave her.
Khushi might have been eighteen but she had realised that he wanted her to stick around more than for any reason, for him.
Precisely why she left.
It kept on happening, she always lost her balance around him and he always caught her. Khushi tossed and turned on her bed as she began to get accustomed to his warmth. But she decided to live in denial, calling him Rakshas, Kans mama, Shaitaan, Laad Governor -her ways of reminding herself of who he was in the past.
Yet she allowed him to caress her, blow away the gentle dust from her eyes or allow him to tend to her. She never understood why his face bore a sign of satisfaction and content when she permitted him to do so. Not so surprisingly, the more she allowed him to touch, the more he turned gentle towards her.
She had seen the rare laughs and smirks thrown across her way. Never having been the center of attraction for anyone, Khushi felt herself to be pulled to him - like a moth to a flame. She felt cherished, treasured at his constant attention.
So she closed her eyes and gave herself up to fate when he leaned to kiss her in Diwali night. She felt the flutter of emotions when she realised she was wearing his favourite colour. And quietly she had known of his weakness to her wearing sarees.
But Khushi realised that while it was an emotional pull for her to be embraced and welcomed into his world, it was a physical need which rose in Arnav. Humiliation at her pride being hurt, she vowed not to meet him when she fell back into the old cycle.
His anger on not being able to touch her as he wished, his immediate calm on tending to her just as he wished. Her continuous losing of balance, his continuous heroic act of holding on to her. Having expressive eyes, Khushi hoped he could not read them. But he did, and his actions became more pronounced when his distant cousin came around.
Khushi had fallen in love with him, again. Because she knew that the tender side existed in him and she waited, for him to show that to her.
Reduced to a putty as he kissed her cheek and not so subtly flirted with her, Khushi could only lose herself to him as he touched her in a way no man had during their dance on Teri Meri. She blushed and hoped to find more than his touched, more than his kisses... just his words.
He never shied from touching her, she hoped the same for his feelings.
But that never happened.
Khushi sighed as she recalled the Shyam fiasco. Blinking rapidly, she gasped as she looked at the time. So lost was she in her own world that she had failed to see how the time had flown. Quickly chopping a few potatoes and getting the dough ready, she decided to cook up a quick delicacy that her husband quietly cherished.
A soft smile hovered over her lips as she realised that just like most men, Arnav had a soft spot for a well cooked meal - especially if it was made by her.
Mathura aloo and puri.
Khushi couldn't ever forget that he had asked his Nani to cook the same for her birthday. Her smile dimmed as she recalled his way of "redemption".
He blasted her and broke her heart again. Just when she had begun to hope and had given almost everything just a week ago to him. But then, he held her responsible for all that had happened. How was it even possible? For the last one year of her life she had always been under his scanner. Couldn't Arnav himself realise that?
She bore a wistful smile that he didn't even realise that Khushi was next to him for every breath he took. Couldn't she blame the same? But being Khushi, she kept quiet and decided to leave.
And then suddenly he realised his mistake and decided to correct it.
All so Arnav. Thrusting gifts into the lap of a woman he knew hated expensive gifts, force feeding her in the guise of a birthday celebration - her cheeks still hurt with his grip. His anger on not being able to touch her, again.
Yet she forgave all, as he placed a delicate rose and wished her.
However, her joy was short lived as Arnav forced her to love him. A kiss - a symbol of passion becoming a mere stamp of acceptance for her husband? Oh, didn't he know her well... a girl like Khushi would never choose anyone but her husband to kiss.
Khushi almost cried as he made a mockery of everything. It was so important for him to get physically intimate with her. She forgave him when he took a stand for her, especially noticing how her lovestruck Jiji became sullen at Akash jiju's lack of respect for her.
Arnav was, somehow, a good husband. Till he wanted to have their suhaagraat.
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PART TWO
Do pour in your precious comments :) Plagiarism won't be taken lightly.
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