(A/N This happens at the end of KKHH, when Aman is giving her up. Hence the title.)
I stared up in horror at her, my supposed bride, as she stopped on the top of the stairs. She was so beautiful, bedecked in jewelry and mehendi. And she was mine. Or, at least, should have been. But she loved someone else. Rahul. I could see it in her face, as she gazed down at me and him.
A pain started building in my chest, as the full impact of the situation started setting in. So Anjali didn't love me. I accepted that fact as soon as it was plain. I had suspected as much now and then. But I had always told myself it was all right. So what if she didn't love me at first? She liked me well enough, and I loved her. We would have worked out well together.
But now, I realized, it wasn't just that she didn't love me. She loved another. That was why she usually spurned my advances. I had been rather shocked when she finally agreed to marry me. Now, of course, I understood why. She was settling. For me. And I couldn't allow that.
Vaguely, I wondered why she hadn't married Rahul before she met me. It would have spared us all a lot of heartbreak. She has obviously been in love with him ever since then. Probably that idiot duffer hadn't realized what a prize he had in her and had rejected her. So she had left and met me. And settled - my god, settled - for the second best option. Me.
For a second, I felt hurt. Even if Anjali couldn't consider me a lover, she should at least think of me as a friend! Why hadn't she come to me, why hadn't she told me she loved this Rahul person? I would have understood. Maybe I would have been angry at first, but Anjali and her mother had taken me into their own family just like a blood relative. I couldn't have remained angry even if I tried.
But gazing up at Anjali, at the tears gathering in her kohl-lined eyes, I realized why she hadn't told anyone. She was a stupid, stubborn, plucky, honorable girl who was willing to take what life gave her and make something better. She had packed up and moved her mother out when they could no longer afford to run a house without her father. She had worked part-time while taking classes at the university to further her interrupted education. She had accepted a marriage proposal to make her friends and family happy, and then stuck by it even though she had regained her true love. I tried my hardest to suppress it, but I felt a little glow of admiration for Anjali Sharma. A little glow which threw the pain into sharper focus.
Suddenly, I realized I couldn't force that bright, happy girl into a marriage that would only burden her. I had to step out of the way. I had to give her up. All those months of wooing her, and now this… my face was ready to crumple u p like a piece of paper. But I had to be strong. I could not cry. I had to be brave. I got up, and began to stride up towards Anjali. I felt like death stuck in the microwave. Had I ever imagined my wedding day like this?
I felt a horrible urge to laugh hysterically. I remembered joking with her one day that if she didn't come willingly to get married, I would drag her to the altar myself. Of course, I would never do that, but for a split second, the idea was tempting.
I think that's what made me say to her, "If you're not coming, I'll drag you by your hand in front of the priest. Didn't I tell you?" I glared into her face, hating it at that moment. I don't think she even suspected how much I was hurting inside. Anger was better than sobbing hysterically. Anger still retained dignity. I had to pull this through.
She was struggling against my grip, but I held on like a lobster. Incredulously, I asked myself, did she really think I was going to force her into marriage? As the priest got closer and closer, a part of me wanted to just stop in front of him. Anjali would have been happy with me. Maybe not at first, but she would have learned to love me. I wasn't that bad a person.
The only thing that kept my feet going was the look in Rahul's face. The only emotion I could think of to describe it was heartbreak. He was crying, just like Anjali, and I wanted to break down and join them too. He doesn't only want her, I realized. He needs her, maybe more than I do.
I saw the expression on his face change to shock and surprise as I passed the priest and stopped in front of him. Little Anjali, his daughter, stopped sobbing for a moment and gasped a little. I thrust Anjali forward, afraid that unless I didn't do it quickly, I wouldn't be able to do it at all.
Aman – ", she started to say, but I cut her off.
Then, chokingly, I told her, "You know I always wanted to see that love in your eyes, just like there had been in mine. And today I saw that love. Only it wasn't for me."
Seeing her eyes, the wonder in them, made it possible for a small smile to come to my lips. "You really are crazy, Anjali," I continued. "You've only loved him, ever since you understood what love is. You've only loved him. Rahul is your first love. And the importance of first love… you can ask me that."
Her eyes began to get wider, but the tears still glistened in them. "And you? You were going to sacrifice all that for me? Crazy!" I tried to make it seem more rebuking, but I just couldn't manage it. "How could I come between this love? Your love was never even mine!"
Just then, I caught the beginnings of a smile on the little 8-year-old Anjali's face. With just a hint of a laugh in my voice, I continued, "Besides, someone has told me that I am so handsome I can get anyone!"
A quivering smile played on my Anjali's lips. I couldn't stop thinking of her as mine. She came closer to me, examining my face to make sure I meant it. I couldn't bear it much longer. "Go", I told her gently.
She still hesitated. Touching her cheek softly, savoring that last bit of contact with her, I whispered again, "Go."
She nodded, and turned. And I caught an eager flash in her eyes, a flash of true love. She truly was his. And as they got nearer, their broken sobs and laughter mingled, until they were both laughing and crying hysterically in each other's arms. And as I saw the happiness in their eyes, as Rahul wrapped Anjali closer still, I felt a weight lift from my heart. I was responsible for two people's happiness on this day. For a second, I felt as though I could dance.
And dance I did, briefly, with little Anjali. As I hugged her in my arms, the fleeting thought passed through my brain. So what if I didn't have one Anjali's love? Because of what I did, I had the love, respect and friendship of two Anjalis.
(A/N That was it! It was super-hard to think of a reason why Aman would say I'll drag you to the priest. I almost put it that he was meaning to actually do it, but Rahul's face made him reconsider, but then, the shot where they show him taking off his turban wouldn't have fit in. R&R! BTW, thanks to all of you who read and reviewed the other 3. AKA 2 people. And I have had 22 reads on one of them! Seriously, people, you can do better!)