Chapter 21: Caught

Khushi

"Is everything okay between you and Arnav-ji?"

Jiji's question startled Khushi out of a reverie.

"Huh? Yes, of course," she smiled, "Why do you ask?"

They were in the downstairs sitting area, perched on a couch as they inspected the Holi things spread between them. Anjali-ji was outside, overseeing the preparations. A festival mood was in the air.

Jiji fiddled with the packets of coloured powder the vendor had left with them, "I just thought ... you two seemed ..."

"You know how he is," Khushi pretended to grimace, "He's the Laad Governor."

"When did you fall in love with him, Khushi? You always disliked him so much."

"When did you fall in love with Aakash-ji?" she deflected, trying her best to ignore her blush.

Jiji contemplated her pile of colours, "I don't know exactly when. Maybe there was something from the first meeting itself."

"On Teej?"

"No. Before that. We met at the marketplace," Jiji giggled, lost in some memory, "His car was causing havoc and I yelled at him."

Her sister grabbed her arm, "To think, Khushi, that I married him!"

"He loves you very much, Jiji," Khushi smiled.

"And yours?"

"He's nice enough."

"Nice enough?"

"Fine," Khushi huffed, blushing again, "He's very nice."

The vendor returned with some water guns as a memory surfaced - Arnav-ji at the hospital, hoping to leave unnoticed after paying Babu-ji's bills.

"Very kind," she continued absently, "Almost ... almost too kind."

"Is that why you call me 'Laad Governor'?"

Khushi sprang up with a gasp, her wide eyes finding her husband's frame as he stood in the entrance hall. Arnav-ji seemed to smile as he strode forward and handed Hari Prakash-ji his laptop bag before coming to stand between the sofas. His eyebrow rose as he cast his eye over the packets of powder scattered across the coffee table.

"It's Holi tomorrow," Khushi answered his unspoken question.

"That will be 650 rupees for all of this," the vendor said.

Stepping forward, Arnav-ji handed over a small bundle of cash, "Keep the change."

The other man stared at the money before quickly pocketing it, and Khushi was reminded of the time he'd paid 500 Rs for 10 Rs of channa by the roadside.

"Payal, did you get everything you need?"

Aakash-ji joined them, stepping around a sofa to stand next to Jiji.

"Yes."

Khushi watched her sister take Aakash-ji's coat with a smile. Jealousy twinged inside her as she noted how they stood - so close that his shirt brushed her shoulder.

"And you, Khushi-ji?"

Khushi was distracted from answering when her husband stepped away. She watched his retreating figure with a heaviness in her heart, but he paused on the first step and turned.

"Khushi. Come upstairs, I want to talk to you."

She refused to glance at her sister and brother-in-law as she followed, cheeks heating with embarrassment and indignation.

How dare he summon me like one of his servants, especially in front of my Jiji and Jija-ji!

By the time they reached his bedroom she was convinced that she'd been horribly wronged, and confronted him the moment the doors were shut behind her.

"What are you doing!?"

"Lower your voice!" he growled.

Khushi glanced at the door before stepping forward, "What are you doing? How dare you!?"

"How many times have I told you not to speak to me like that?"

"I'll speak to you however I want!"

"Khushi, I'm warning you!"

"How could you? You summoned me. I am your wife, not your servant."

Arnav-ji blinked, "What?"

"I'm not your—"

"—You've been trying to talk to me all day. I told you I'd come home early so we could talk," he interrupted.

Oh.

"You wanted to talk," he continued, "so talk."

Embarrassment chased away the last of her anger as Khushi recalled exactly what she'd been trying to tell him.

Oh Devi Maiyya, give me strength.

"Sit down," she suggested, and waited until he complied with a bewildered frown before continuing, "I have to tell you something."

"I know," he slipped into English.

"I ... you see ..." she clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her as she struggled with the words she'd rehearsed all day, "When you went to the office yesterday, I was in the ... the ki-kitchen ... and ..."

"... And ... " Arnav-ji prompted after a short silence.

"A-a-and I was m-making jalebi ... Sh-Shyam-ji came into the kitchen to t-talk to m-me."

She noted, with some alarm, that her husband had become absolutely still. The memory of Shyam-ji's hands on her shoulders on the terrace, of his arms around her, made her shiver with revulsion. Her vision blurred with tears.

"He said things ... he asked if you forced ... forced me to m-marry you. I s-said n-no. Then he tried ... he tried to hold my h-hand."

Arnav-ji stood with a curse, hauling the sliding door open before stepping out to the poolside. Khushi watched as he paced, his movements rough and unrestrained as he tore a hand through his hair. She took a few hesitant steps towards the poolside doors before sinking onto the now-vacant sofa. Her heart twisted as she witnessed his anger.

Is he angry with me as well as with Shyam-ji?

In the short time that she'd known him, Khushi had come to understand one thing about the man who was now her husband: Arnav-ji preferred distance. She'd witnessed him storm out of his home and office on countless occasions, often leaving his family or herself in tears, and suspected that it had to do with control.

Control, she knew, was everything to him.

And yet he'd stayed here, within easy reach, and she hoped it meant that he didn't blame her for what had happened.

Lost in her thoughts, Khushi didn't realise that he'd stepped back inside until he closed the sliding door to keep out the rapidly cooling evening air.

"Come here," he spoke as she stood.

Her heart hammered as she complied. He held out his hand, and she slid her trembling fingers across his palm when she was close enough.

"Did he touch you?" though he spoke softly, her husband's voice was roughened with some emotion she couldn't identify.

"I ... I didn't let him."

"Good."

"And you ... you're okay?" she asked.

Arnav-ji gave a small nod, running his fingers over her wrist before releasing her. He turned to the now-shadowy poolside.

"Anything else?"

"Uhh ..." Khushi tried to catch her breath, "Breakfast this morning. He ... he said you gave me this sari because we fought."

"Like I said," his eyes traced up and down her body as the corner of his mouth tilted in a smirk, "Not bad."

Her eyes found the floor, cheeks heating, "I'll ... I'll go ..."

Her breath left her in a sigh as she turned to the door. A warm hand closed around her wrist. Arnav-ji gave a sharp tug so that she landed on his chest with a gasp, her hair flying about her and sliding down his suit in a caress. Khushi stared up at him, her gaze slipping from his eyes to his mouth and then back up.

"Will you answer a question?" her husband's question was so soft that she leaned in to hear him.

Hai Devi Maiyya, what will I say if he asks why I was so nervous at lunch?

Fear quickened her pulse as she looked away. Her voice trembled when she responded.

"On-only if you answer one as well."

Arnav-ji opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head as if reconsidering. He spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Are you hungry? You barely ate at lunch."

This was not, she was acutely aware, the question he'd intended to ask. But she couldn't help but be grateful that he'd decided not to press her about her odd behaviour.

Khushi's tummy chose that moment to give a loud growl. She blushed crimson, mortified, as Arnav-ji gave a low chuckle.

"Come, let's go downstairs."