Chapter 5: Chaos
Khushi
"You understand that this is not real?"
Khushi stared up at the brilliant white structure in front of them, "Yes."
A loveless marriage. Devi Maiyya, please give me strength.
"Do you really?" he pressed, "You asked to live in Shantivan as my wife. It will be legally binding. But there is no future, and after the baby is born …"
The tiny flame of hope still alive inside her spluttered, and then died.
There is no future.
"I understand," her voice was small and frail.
He opened his door and rounded the car to help with hers. When he offered his hand, she slid her palm against his with trepidation, and then they climbed the temple stairs together like that. Hand in hand.
Two men met them at the top, both clad in suits and one carrying a slim briefcase.
"Sir," the younger one stepped forward, "I have the papers."
Arnav-ji signed the proffered documents after reading them carefully, and it wasn't long before the man stood in front of her.
"Aman Mathur," he introduced himself.
"Kh-Khushi … Khushi Kumari G-Gupta."
Aman-ji nodded as he handed her a document and pen, and cleared his throat when she hesitated.
"Papers," he explained softly, "to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."
Khushi blinked, some part of her turning to ash as she realised what was happening.
The other man stepped up, "It's a standard agreement. The law says that you would be entitled to alimony in the case of a divorce. By signing these papers you forfeit that right."
She guessed that this was the lawyer. Khushi looked up to find that Arnav-ji was staring unseeing into the holy fire.
He doesn't even care.
This proof of the depth of his mistrust broke something inside her. She signed the papers, hardly able to bring them into focus because of the tears that blurred her vision.
In the end, the ceremony was a grim parody of the one they'd just witnessed. He placed a simple necklace about her neck without fanfare, though she closed her eyes as she felt her entire future change. She sobbed, the reality of the moment finally slamming into her when he pinched sindoor between his fingers. He leaned forward to place it into the part of her hair, and then it was done.
Feeling weak, Khushi swayed with her face buried in her hands, trying in vain to stem her tears.
"Aman," Arnav-ji called.
She looked up as the other man approached, noting that he seemed unfazed by what he'd seen. But then she saw the apology in his eyes when their eyes met.
"Ma'am," he spoke gently, "the marriage papers."
These were signed with quick efficiency, first by herself and Arnav-ji, and then their witnesses.
"Find an officiator," Arnav-ji gave brisk instructions, "Back-date whatever needs to be backdated. Pay whatever you need to, but I want it handled by the end of this week. And remember, it must be legally sound. No one should be able to cast doubts on its validity."
The two men left them standing yards apart inside the temple.
"What now?" she asked, feeling utterly drained.
He slipped a floral wreath about his neck before handing her a matching one.
"We go home."
The silence inside his car rang so loudly that Khushi's ears throbbed. She trembled, thinking of what awaited them, and jumped when the low beep of his phone sliced the air.
Arnav-ji glanced at the screen, "Di is looking for us."
Then they stood at his front door, her fingers clenched into the soft fabric of her dupatta. She startled when he reached across to take her hand in his, a gesture she might have interpreted as reassurance if she didn't know better, and panic settled in when he opened the door. It was thick in her veins even though the plan and decision had both been hers. She covered his hand with her own, trying to stop him, but he seemed immune to her struggles as he pulled her into the main room.
The guests had left. Jiji and Jija-ji sat surrounded by immediate family, playing the games expected of newlyweds on their wedding night.
Anjali-ji was the first to notice their silent arrival, the light leaving her eyes and her mouth falling open as she tracked their progress. Nanhe-ji pointed his video camera in their direction and then lowered it with a gasp. Bua-ji glanced up, at first not registering what she saw, and then stood with a cry of outrage.
Khushi shook.
It was worse than she'd imagined. Their families asked questions they couldn't answer, not with the health of Anjali-ji and her unborn child at stake. But Khushi wondered if this was any better, whether seeing the brother she loved betray her and her ideals had achieved what they'd tried to avoid in any case.
Seeing all her worries come to fruition, Bua-ji shook her, demanding explanations and becoming ever more frustrated with her silence.
There was chaos, and questions, and tears.
She was already drained when Amma stepped up, already too tired and too overwrought to do anything but stand next to her newly minted husband and weep, and so was caught completely by surprise by the slap. Khushi stumbled into Arnav-ji, cheek stinging and ears ringing, and felt him angle himself to catch her. When she looked up, a part of her hating that he'd seen this, his rage-filled gaze was locked on Amma.
And again, her naive heart dared to hope.
Arnav-ji's facade of calm indifference only cracked when Anjali-ji began asking questions. Khushi watched him play the role of villain, her heart twisting with pain and regret.
"Chhote, how could you do this? To me? To us?"
"Di, we're married. It's done."
It was then, as Anjali-ji wept and Aakash-ji gazed at them in confusion, as Nani-ji raged her disappointment and Jiji sobbed into her dupatta, that Arnav-ji took her hand. His fingers brushed hers almost questioningly before gripping tightly. Khushi jumped in shock, her eyes finding his face almost instantly, and saw that he wasn't looking at her at all.
He was staring at Shyam-ji, who seemed to shake with rage at the sight.
"And if you marry someone else?"
"He'll see that I don't want … That I ch-chose someone e-else."
"That you chose me?"
Taking a shuddering breath, Khushi curled her fingers with his, her mouth set in grim determination as she stared defiantly at Shyam-ji.
This man was her choice, and always would be, whether he wanted her or not.