Chapter 11: Khushi

16th December

Aye ajnabi, tu bhi kabhi aawaaz de kahin se, [Hey Stranger, call out to me sometime,]

Main yahan tukdon mein jee raha hoon, [I'm here, living broken-hearted,]

Tu kahin tukdon mein jeen rahi hai. [You're somewhere, living in pieces too.]

Khushi shivered despite the heat blasting from the vents of the car. They'd spent most of this morning in silence, but Arnav-ji broke it now.

"Did you get much sleep?"

She glanced at him. He looked as tired as she felt – their long hours of conversation last night had obviously taken a toll. Khushi nodded when he looked over, wanting to reassure him, but he wasn't fooled.

"Are you alright?"

She fiddled with her dupatta.

"Khushi? Talk to me."

What could she say? He'd made promises yesterday and last night, promises she'd always wanted but hadn't dared to hope for. But Khushi knew that things looked different in the cold light of day, and feared that his decision had changed in the hours between their goodbyes on the phone and his knock on her door.

What if he doesn't want to get married? What will I do without him?

"Are you upset over yesterday? Do you ... regret it?"

His questions threatened to weaken her.

Did she regret yesterday? No. She couldn't bring herself to regret any moment she'd shared with him.

. . . . . . .

Yesterday, Khushi had made her way into his bedroom with her usual excuse of bringing him tea, intending to talk to him about Babu-ji's appointment next week. Arnav-ji had taken one look at her and admonished her for not wearing a shawl or cardigan to keep warm. Before she'd known what was happening, he'd wrapped her in his jacket. Her eyes had closed at the sensation, his scent enveloping her and his warmth slowly soaking into her. Lost in him, in the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, she'd mumbled something – she didn't know what – and her eyes had snapped open when she heard him move.

The heat that had flared in Arnav-ji's eyes had both scared and thrilled her. Khushi, watching him carefully, had seen the instant he'd made a decision, the instant he'd allowed his iron control to slip, and she'd known what was going to happen before it did. She'd stopped thinking when he'd backed her against the wall, stopped breathing when he'd cupped her face. He'd whispered something unintelligible, cradled her head, and then pressed his lips to hers. Once. Gently.

Khushi had thought about this - she'd even dreamt about it - but those innocent thoughts hadn't prepared her for the reality. How could she have imagined the heat and electricity that had zipped through her, making her feel as though she would never be cold again. How could she have imagined the faintness, the feeling of coming untethered, so that it felt like he was the only thing connecting her to the earth. How could she have imagined him, the rapid beat of his heart, the low groan that escaped him as she gasped, the strength and comfort of his arms as he crushed her against his body, holding her as he'd never done before.

Later, they'd escaped his house to drive to the hilltop and talk. It'd been tentative, awkward, punctuated with long silences, but it'd been honest. Arnav-ji had surprised her by mentioning marriage, saying that he respected her wishes and knew that she would expect nothing less if they were to be together. He'd said that he was willing to do anything to be with her.

Dazed, she'd agreed. But their plans to tell their families had ground to a halt when they'd realized that the news might upset everyone, so close to Jiji's wedding, and that his Mami might react badly. Unwilling to endanger the marriage that was already taking place, Khushi had reluctantly suggested that they wait. He'd agreed, a little too quickly for her liking, and that'd been the end of it. Her heart had still skipped several beats when he'd called to check up on her, and they'd spent most of last night talking and laughing - bonding - before he'd urged her to sleep.

But the intervening time had stolen the familiarity that had grown between them and replaced it with her anxiety. In the small hours of the morning, she'd realized that he'd never – not once – said that he loved her.

. . . . . . .

"Khushi? I asked if you regret ... any of it."

She blinked, coming back to herself. Her gaze flicked to Arnav-ji briefly, but she looked away before he could read what was written there. The muscles that corded his arms were tense and his eyes flashed with anger when he turned to her.

"Answer me, dammit."

Khushi closed her eyes, willing her tears away, but made no attempt to answer. She reached out and flicked the radio off, silencing Udit Narayan-ji as he called out to the missing piece of his heart.

The car sped up steadily and Arnav-ji's movements became rough with frustration. The tyres squealed as he took turns too quickly. He thumped the horn repeatedly, cursing under his breath and throwing furious looks her way. Trembling, Khushi clutched at the door handle and the dashboard, trying to banish the images of her mother and father getting into a car, never to return. She whimpered as flashes of her childhood nightmares came back to her - the squeal of tyres, the scream of a woman, the crash of breaking glass. Arnav-ji looked over at her.

"Damn it to hell," he struck the steering wheel.

Khushi jumped at his sudden violence. The car slowed down. He drove with a lot more care for the next few minutes, and she realised that he'd remembered her fear of fast cars. She bit back a sob of relief and leaned back in her seat, her eyes falling closed again.

"Khushi, we're here."

Startled, she looked around, surprised to find them parked in his driveway already. His stare was burning through her, but she was afraid that he'd read all her insecurities if she turned to him. Arnav-ji waited a few more minutes before hitting the steering wheel again.

"Fine," he growled, "Fine."

He slid out of the car, slamming the door so hard that she jumped - again - before disappearing into his home. He didn't turn around once. Alone, she lost the battle against her tears.

. . . . . . .

Khushi spent most of the day in the living room, helping Anjali-ji prepare for the Shagun. She was distracted, barely able to carry on a conversation, and found herself glancing anxiously at the stairs more often than she could count. But he never came downstairs, not even to eat lunch, and Khushi's anxiety grew with every passing hour. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she made tea for everyone and offered to take a cup to Arnav-ji. Anjali-ji watched her carefully as she walked upstairs.

There was no answer when she knocked on his door, so Khushi slowly pushed it open to peek in. Arnav-ji was asleep on his sofa, one of his arms bent behind his head and the other resting across his middle. She stepped inside carefully and placed the cup of tea on the low table next to him before kneeling by his side. He looked peaceful, boyishly vulnerable in a way she'd never seen his waking moments. Khushi watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, watched his eyes flicker as he dreamt, and realized that she didn't want anything else from life.

Arnav-ji was all she needed. He showed her how he felt every day. He never needed to say the words.

Some sixth sense alerted him to her close scrutiny. His eyes opened slowly and he blinked at her, unseeing, before abruptly sitting upright. Khushi blushed at having been caught as he squinted and rubbed his eyes. A smile started to form on his lips but it disappeared as he remembered.

"Get out," his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Her heart sank. She thought, briefly, of doing as he asked, but dismissed the idea.

"No."

"I said get out!" his voice rose with every syllable.

"Don't ..." she whispered, "please don't. Not again. Not after everything ..."

Khushi watched as his features registered shock before softening, as if he too recognised how close they were to falling into the battleground they always found themselves in.

"What do you want?" Arnav-ji asked, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head between his hands, "Why are you here?"

He frowned as she offered the cup of tea she'd brought. The silence stretched as she gathered herself.

"I came ... I came to talk to you ..." she began cautiously, "but you looked like you needed to sleep."

His hands made the cup look tiny and vulnerable as they wrapped around it. Khushi sympathised, having often felt the same.

"I was unsure," she continued in a whisper, "Afraid."

He froze. "Afraid of me?"

"No. Not of you," she took a deep breath, "Of ... this. I thought ... given time to think ... you might have changed your mind. I know you don't believe in marriage. Lavanya-ji ..."

Arnav-ji held her gaze, seeming to look deep inside her. He nodded at whatever he found. Standing up, he offered his hand and pulled her up from the floor when she took it. He gathered her close and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead, an unspoken apology for his earlier behaviour. Khushi watched as he strode over to his wardrobe, opening it to reveal a safe, and fiddled with the keypad. There was a low beep as it unlocked. Reaching in, he produced a small box.

"I meant every word, Khushi," he said, handing her the box.

The pounding of her heart drowned out everything else as Khushi opened it to reveal a ring. A diamond, cushion cut, surrounded by smaller stones and held in place by a thick diamond encrusted band that split in two around the stone. She looked up at him, noting the movement in his throat as he swallowed, seeing the flicker of his eyes as he looked down and then back up at her. He was as nervous as she was.

"When ... when did you get this?" Khushi's voice shook.

"The day I went to the office for a meeting. I had it in my pocket when you fell in the kitchen."

Arnav-ji took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly when she was unable to stop a tremor.

"Khushi," he reached over and took the ring out of the box, "I was going to give this to you after Aakash and Payal's wedding but I want you to have it now. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that I'm going to marry you, as soon as I can."

His eyes asked for permission, and when she gave a slight nod while stifling a sob, he slowly slid the ring into her finger. It was a perfect fit. They stood in silence, both staring down, absorbing the reality of this moment. He was smiling when he looked at her.

"Come here," Arnav-ji tugged on her hand, cradling her head against his shoulder and holding her close, "I promised I'd marry you, Khushi. I won't ever let you down again."

Lyrics are from 'Aye Ajnabi' (Dil Se, 1998). The rough English translation is mine.