Chapter 24: Clarity

Khushi

"Khushi! Come back here!"

"No. No. No!"

Khushi wove a path through the revellers, trying to avoid her husband as he chased her.

"You said that I could have one more!"

"I did not!"

"Yes. Yes. Yes!"

"Khushi, careful!"

She skidded to a messy stop next to a table laden with copper glasses filled with either thandai or bhaang.

"One more!" she pleaded with her scowling husband when he caught up.

He looks so handsome, in that white shirt and jeans.

"Thank you," Arnav-ji smirked.

"Haw! Did I say that out loud!?"

"Yes," he grinned, "Now come here, you've had enough bhaang."

"Arnav-ji," Khushi offered him a glass, "Drink some with me."

"No."

"Drink. Please?"

Taking the glass without comment, he downed it entirely in one smooth motion. Khushi sipped at her own glass, watching as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Heat flared in her belly.

"Happy?" he asked.

She nodded energetically, allowing him to guide her through the crowds to where Di and Nani-ji stood.

Di smiled at them both, "It's nice to see you two like this."

Arnav-ji swayed a little and Khushi stumbled as he leaned heavily on her. They both laughed as they regained their balance. He held her closer.

"She liked the surprise," he said conspiratorially to his sister, "Thank you for organising it."

Khushi felt a jolt of surprise, "Arnav-ji! You invited my family?"

"Shh!" he leaned towards Di, "Don't tell her!"

"He was worried that you missed your family," Di patted Arnav-ji affectionately on the cheek, "Chhote, this year you've played Holi and drunk bhaang. All that's left is for you to dance."

"No," he shook his head, "I don't dance."

"But I do!" Khushi crowed.

She disentangled herself from her husband to join the dancers, waving her arms to the beat of the drums. She was soon joined by Amma, Bua-ji and Jiji. Giggling as Jija-ji swung Jiji around, Khushi looked around and saw that Arnav-ji was watching her, one arm around Di and the other around Nani-ji. They giggled as he said something to them. Then he stepped forward, weaving unsteadily as he drank another glass of bhaang, and came to stand with her.

Khushi was immediately lost in the dark honey of his eyes. She gripped his shirt to retain her balance when he pulled her closer. He smiled that small smile of his. Memories bombarded her - the way he'd held her as they'd danced on stage, the way he'd leaned in to kiss her on Diwali, the way he'd returned her payal. She leaned into him. He dipped his head.

One of the dancers bumped into Khushi, reminding her where they were and causing a blush to rise to her cheeks as she released her husband with some reluctance. But then Arnav-ji spun her around, a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes. She grinned in return.

He wants me to dance.

So she did.

The two families danced together as Arnav-ji pulled Di and Nani-ji into the crowd. Bua-ji pretended to smack the ground with her plait. Jija-ji used a dupatta to pull Jiji close. Nanhe-ji led Di in slow circles. Mami-ji pretended to play the guitar as Mama-ji danced with a glass on his head. Khushi danced bhangra with her sister.

And Arnav-ji danced, his body moving against hers, his hand on her waist, refusing to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time. She watched his family surround him in a giant hug before her own enveloped her. Happiness flooded her heart when she noticed him hugging his sister.

Watching Mami and Bua-ji fight over a water-gun, Khushi felt suddenly thirsty. She wove her way through the revellers, looking for some water.

A hand wrapped around hers.

"Arnav—"

But to her horror, it was Shyam-ji who held her and not her husband.

"Let me go!"

Shyam-ji seemed immune to her struggles as he pulled her through the crowd.

"No, Khushi-ji, you have to tell me the truth!" he pushed her against a tree, "You didn't want to marry Arnav. Tell me what happened."

"No!" she said petulantly, "I won't say anything! Especially to a bad man like you!"

Shock sharpened her senses as he cupped her face, "Khushi-ji, tell me why you agreed to marry him, and so suddenly!"

"He's my husband," she declared, stepping out of his reach, "We're married. That's all. And don't ... don't touch me like that!"

"Okay," Shyam-ji grit his teeth, "I'm not touching you. But tell me, why did you marry him?"

"Because I wanted to," Khushi answered simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "because he's ..."

Mine.

She fell into memories. His stare on the night of the photoshoot, that first apology in the gazebo, the kiss by the poolside. His intensity on Diwali. His pain when she'd revealed her engagement. His humility when he'd posed as a waiter.

"What did you tell him about us?" Shyam-ji jolted her back to the present.

"The truth."

"And he believed you?"

"N-no. He ... he didn't," she said glumly, "He still doesn't."

Oddly, the admission seemed to please Shyam-ji. But the beginnings of his slow, slimy smile disappeared as he caught sight of something behind her. He turned his heel and left without a word, leaving Khushi to scan the crowd with a frown until she spotted the familiar form of her husband.

"Arnav-ji!" she waved happily, "You found me!"

"Do you know how worried I was?!" his hands came up to cup her face, "Next time, tell me where you're going."

She curled her fingers into his shirt as the world seemed to spin, "Why?"

"So I can keep you safe, dammit!"

"I have to tell you ... tell you something," her words came out slurred.

"You've drunk too much bhaang. Let's go, we'll sit down."

Arnav-ji led her to a part of the estate that she'd never seen. A gazebo stood in front of her, surrounded by immaculate gardens and decorated with marigolds and mirrors and bright sashes. It was empty.

"I have to tell you ... tell you something," Khushi repeated.

Some powder flew into her eye, kicked up by her husband as he turned to face her, and she squealed.

"Ow!" she rubbed it gingerly.

She felt more than saw Arnav-ji step forward. He held her hand by the wrist and guided it away from her eye. His fingers were slightly cool. Khushi trembled as he brushed her hair away from her face before leaning in. Her heart pounded so fast in her chest that it was almost painful. He blew gently, holding her eye open with his thumb, and her knees seemed suddenly too weak to support her. He smelled of earth and wood and leather, frowning in concentration as he focussed on his task.

There had been another time, almost a lifetime ago, when they had been as they were now. A stolen moment, brief and bright, when she'd borrowed dirt from his potted plants and gotten some in her eye. He'd been so gentle, so concerned. Her husband refocussed on her, and she knew instinctively that he'd thought of the same moment. His hand froze next to her head. Her heart grew heavy with loss and a yearning for a simpler time when she'd still been so full of hope.

The words she'd confessed to Shyam-ji came back to her.

Why won't he just believe me?

She felt the prickle of tears.

Why can't it be real?

Suddenly overwhelmed, Khushi moved his hand aside and turned away, trying to still the rapid thunder of her heart. Her lungs didn't seem to want to cooperate with her, especially not with Arnav-ji staring at her so intently. She pursed her lips together to contain a sob. Her thoughts tangled in confusion.

And then panic unfurled in her tummy when Arnav-ji started to walk away.

He couldn't leave, not when she was so full of questions.

Not when she was so full of love.

She reached out, trapping his hand in hers, and waited.