Chapter 8: Arnav
Arnav needed a coffee. He'd slept for most of the flight but still felt unrested. He needed a proper bed. His own bed ... preferably with his wife beside him.
They encountered traffic on the way home, and Arnav resented every moment that kept him away from Khushi and his family. He remembered laughing at Di two years ago, thinking she was crazy for suggesting that there would ever be anyone in his life who would become so important to him that breathing would be difficult without her.
Then Khushi had come into his life, bringing chaos and madness with her. He'd hated that she made him question himself, made him feel things he'd thought himself immune to. He was ashamed of how hard he'd tried to break her spirit and bring her into his control like every other element of his life. But Khushi, his brave, strong, beautiful Khushi, had withstood it all.
His journey to love had been slow and he'd fought it every step of the way. He'd first been attracted to her, as a man to a woman, and then found it impossible to ignore the growing care and worry he felt for her. The feelings he'd worked hard to bury had come to the surface the night she'd been trapped in the guesthouse.
Arnav had come to grudgingly respect her anger as well. It was slow to kindle, but she was truly a force to behold when angered. She'd rendered him speechless as she'd broken their contract and resigned from his company. He'd wanted to explain himself to her but she hadn't given him a chance, telling him she was returning to Lucknow and fleeing his presence.
He'd missed Khushi then, though he'd never admit to anyone but her. His mind insisted on replaying the moments he'd shared with her. Most of them were terrible, where he had tormented and hurt her. He'd even driven to her house - using Di's trip to the temple as a pretext - so he could stare at the locked doors, trying to convince himself that she was gone from his life forever.
She'd returned, unexpectedly turning up in his closet (of all places), and then the'd been forced to see each other every day. They'd discovered one another slowly. He'd admired her dedication and kindness, her respect for his family, her wisdom that was well beyond her years. He'd discovered the similarities between them – their commitment to their families, the tragedies that had taken their parents from them, their loyalty to those who were loyal to them.
His attachment to her increased every day and he started doing things he'd never dreamt of. She was the first person he'd apologized to in years. He went downstairs just to spend time in her presence, slipped silver coins into detergent packets to see her smile, forgave her when she broke his things in her clumsiness and stole from him. By that Diwali, they were inexorably bound.
One day he'd realized that Di was right, that there was a woman without whom he wasn't living but merely existing, without whom he couldn't imagine life. Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada.
"Arnav-bhaiya, we're here." Mohan roused him from his recollections, holding the car door open.
"Thank you."
