Chapter 10: Choices

Khushi

Half an hour after Jiji had left her in the kitchen, Khushi approached the dining table with slow, shuffling steps. But her heart soared when she realised that Jiji had called home, and was now talking to Amma.

"Everything ... everything is fine here, Amma."

Khushi approached her sister, "Jiji, may I?"

Jiji handed her the phone after a short hesitation and returned to her task of readying the table for breakfast.

"Amma ... it's ... it's me ... Kh-Khushi."

Amma fell silent in the middle of her sentence. And then a series of low beeps told her that the call had ended.

"Amma! ... Amma! ..."

A terrible loneliness welled within her as she contemplated a future where no one wanted her — not her husband, not his family, and not even own.

"What are you doing?!" Mami-ji called out as she flounced towards them, "Are you standing around crying? If you miss your maternity homes so much then why have you forcibly come here? We didn't want you anyway!"

Khushi cringed as Mami-ji berated Jiji, ordering her to get back to work, before rounding on her, "And you! Comes with me!"

Back in the kitchen, Mami-ji paced in front of her like an angry general.

"You may have cooked, but no one in this house wants to eat your food! Don't even show your face at the dining table lest everyone loses their appetite."

She stopped, eyes narrowing, "What's this! Have you burnt yourself? You don't even know how to work in the kitchen? Hello, hi, bye bye!"

Khushi didn't bother to hide her tears, humiliation threatening to overwhelm her as Mami-ji marched away. She followed, hoping to find something in Arnav-ji's bedroom to soothe her burn, and found him standing around the corner. It was clear that he'd been standing there for a while.

"Come," his voice was surprisingly gentle as he led her to the study.

He sat her on a sofa before rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a first aid kit.

"I can do it," she protested as he took her hand, but he silenced her with a look.

He tended to her carefully, first applying cream before bandaging the wound, and she was reminded of the time he'd driven to a temple to tend to her wounded finger.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"I was distracted, thinking of how to make Jiji talk to me, and the oil overheated."

"Be careful," he admonished with a tinge of anger in his voice, "first the bangle and now this."

She closed her eyes, liking the feel of his fingers against her skin entirely too much. The reminder of the way he'd bandaged her wound in the car, his breath warm against her skin as he'd used his teeth to take out the glass shard, heated her body.

"It's done."

Khushi opened her eyes to watch him replace the first aid box in the cupboard.

"Arnav-j—"

"Khushi-ji are you hurt?!"

Shyam-ji rushed into the room, his arm extended as if to touch her. Khushi recoiled, pressing up against the sofa in an attempt to get away.

"How dare you, Arnav," Shyam-ji snarled as he turned his attention to the figure now frozen in the corner, "How dare you touch her."

Arnav-ji took a step forward, his fingers curling into fists as he seemed to snarl, and a terrible fear coiled around Khushi's heart. She sprang forward to place herself between the two men, her only thought to prevent them from coming to blows. It would destroy everything they'd worked for if anyone saw them and told Anjali-ji. Her husband froze when he touched his arm, looking down at her in disbelief.

"Chhote? Khushi-ji? What's wrong?" Anjali-ji appeared at the top of the stairs as if called by ill fate.

"Nothing, Di," Arnav-ji spoke, his eyes still burning into Khushi's, "Nothing at all."

He stormed away after one last, baleful look at Shyam-ji, and Khushi watched him disappear through the front door as tears prickled in her eyes. Then she started as a hand touched her cheek, barely containing a scream before realising that it was Anjali-ji.

"Did Chhote fight with you?" she asked softly.

"N-no," Khushi answered truthfully, "he was bandaging my arm. I burnt myself."

Behind Anjali-ji, Shyam-ji seemed to seethe. Khushi tried to focus on her sister-in-law as she spoke again, "Then why did he leave like that?"

"If his sister doesn't understand him," Khushi tried to smile, "then what hope does his wife of two days have?"

She bounded away before Anjali-ji could speak, heading towards his bedroom. Once there, she shut herself inside and sagged against the door, recalling the betrayal in his eyes as she'd stood between him and Shyam-ji.

She knew how it looked. She knew exactly what had gone through his mind. Her knees buckled as a wave of despair overcame her and she sank to the floor, sobs wracking her form.

But what else could I have done, Devi Maiyya?

It seemed that every decision she made was wrong. Everything she did only hurt him more, and it was all the worse because it was him, the one person she'd never wish to hurt.

What if staying here was a mistake? What if I'm only hurting him?

Once the thought was in her mind it was impossible to banish, the idea that she should've just left that night instead of forcing this mockery of a marriage on him.

Khushi spent the day in the bedroom. She watched TV, though not even the latest episodes of her favourite serial could coax her out of her melancholy. She strolled around the poolside, her fingers tracing the delicate leaves and flowers of the plants he took care of so diligently. She pretended to be asleep when Anjali-ji knocked on the door.

It was late in the evening when Arnav-ji finally returned, striding into the room and throwing his keys on the table before shrugging out of his jacket. He didn't seem to notice Khushi as she sat in a chair by the poolside until he stepped outside.

"What are you doing here?" he barked, "Get out! Leave me alone, dammit!"

She stood hastily, aiming for the door, but he caught her arm when she was alongside him.

"How can you be so vulgar? Your mother won't speak to you. Your sister can't even look at you. And no wonder. You defended your lover out in the open today."

He'd always known, hadn't he, how to tear down with just a few words, and now she crumpled under the weight of his accusations. Every word was a clean, precise incision into her heart.

"I didn't!" Khushi gasped with pain, her tummy roiling in protest, "What if someone had seen? What if someone had told Anjali-ji?"

"Since when do you care so much about my sister?" he scoffed, his hand tightening on her flesh.

"Stop," she twisted in his hold, "You're hurting me."

He released her so suddenly that she stumbled into the table, and by the time she'd regained her balance he was at the bed. He gathered up a blanket and pillow before returning to the glass doors and threw them carelessly on the ground.

"Stay the hell away from me."

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