Chapter 26: Cobalt

Khushi

Khushi felt safe when she woke up; warm and calm and content despite the tumult of the previous night.

It was only when she shifted with a groan that she realised that the warmth and softness she felt came not from the bed but from the one who shared it with her.

Hai Devi Maiyya!

Panic spread through her at lightning pace, her mind speedily deciding that Arnav-ji had joined her last night without invitation or permission.

No, wait! Wasn't I supposed to sleep on the sofa last night?

Her heart, moments away from leaping out of her chest with fear, beat to a gentler rhythm. Her thoughts fell into some sort of order and she blushed as mortification replaced her fright.

It had been her. She had climbed into his bed without invitation.

She started to leave the bed, her mind a mess of distress, embarrassment, and no small amount of confusion, and tried not to disturb her husband's peace. But she froze when she realised that his arm was wrapped around her.

How didn't I notice sooner?

Her tummy gave a flip-flop. He held her loosely, his elbow at her waist and his fingers splayed on her tummy. Heat spread through Khushi's body from where he touched her, electric and potent. Her breath came in small pants as happiness tentatively blossomed in her heart.

But what does this mean?

Her embarrassment lingered, as did her confusion, so she resumed her attempts to slip away. His arm refused to budge. She pushed a little harder.

And then Arnav-ji groaned sleepily before muttering, "Five more minutes, babe."

He pulled her closer, shifting against her and sliding his hand higher. Several things happened at once. Khushi arched, trying to prevent his hand from venturing further north, and then clamped her hand over his to still the movement. In doing so, she brushed against something that poked her in the small of her back. She froze.

What is ... oh, oh no ... it's just his other hand ... thank the Goddess.

She was still breathing too fast. She twisted, blushing into her pillow.

He called me ... no one has ever called me that before ... and he ... he wants me to stay.

And she would, so long as he wanted her.

She tentatively pressed back into his warmth and twined her fingers with his, basking in her brief euphoria until a thought intruded.

But why did he call me ... babe? He's never done it before.

He'd never even indicated that he wanted to call her anything but her name. He'd called her Miss Gupta when she'd worked for him, she'd been Khushi and Khushi Kumari Gupta after her resignation, and only recently had she become Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada. But never anything else.

He's asleep. He doesn't even know I'm here.

Her tummy cramped with anguish as she realised that he was not — could not be — thinking of her. Khushi's thoughts and emotions spiralled as her mind recovered the long-buried memory of Lavanya-ji consoling Arnav-ji at the dining table — "It's okay, baby".

Oh.

Maybe he called her ... It makes ... it makes sense.

She lay in his arms, something inside her fracturing as she vividly recalled a conversation about live-in relationships — "Living in the same room, without marriage" — and a hushed exchange between a scandalised and awed Khushi and a giggling Lavanya-ji where the latter had confessed to sneaking into Arnav-ji's bedroom on her first night in the house.

And she had not understood, not then and not fully, but now she thought she did. After Diwali, and Jiji's Sangeet, and yesterday, she understood. And with him holding her like this, his body moving subtly against hers, his heat seeping into her and his breath warming her neck, oh Devi Maiyya she understood.

Her tummy roiled in protest. There was a sharp pain in her chest as if her heart was breaking.

He doesn't want me. Never me.

He didn't kiss me.

Khushi sobbed and tried to get out of the bed again, wiping tears on the back of her hand. Her movements seemed to frustrate her husband, who held tighter as she struggled.

"Khushi!" he warned.

She swivelled to look at him, surprised to find his eyes still closed. He was still more asleep than awake.

He's thinking of me. Or dreaming of me. Me.

Her relief was short-lived, because Arnav-ji chose that moment to open his eyes. He blinked once, twice, and then seemed to focus on her.

"What the—!"

He jerked away, his hands leaving her abruptly as he sat up.

"Did I ..." he trailed off, frowning uncertainly at the sofa.

"No," Khushi sat up too, sliding to the edge of the bed to create distance between them, "I did. I got ... I got confused. S-sorry."

He looked at her. She looked at him, and tried not to get lost in his eyes.

"It's okay," he fidgeted with the duvet, "It happens."

Seconds ticked by, heavy with awkwardness, and then Arnav-ji swung out of the bed with a sigh, "I'm going jogging."

He grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom.

The after-effects of the morning made her giddy — the way he'd held her, the way he'd called her ... babe ... and the way he didn't seem to mind their impromptu bed-sharing. She was dangerously happy.

She was in the mood to tease him.

"You also talk in your sleep."

"What?" he turned, a hand on the door handle.

"Yesterday you complained that I talk in my sleep," she grinned, "and I thought you should know that you talk too."

He blinked, opened his mouth to say something, and then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stepped into the bathroom without a word. Alone, Khushi waited until he turned on the tap before squealing happily into a pillow. Then she scrambled out of bed to dance a jig.

She lost track of time.

"What are you doing?"

She turned, arms still in the air. Arnav-ji had changed into a jogging outfit of a grey t-shirt and black pants paired with a zip-up track jacket. He frowned at her.

"Uhh ... I'm ... I'm ... practising Salman-ji's latest dance move!"

Placing her hands where her belt buckle would be if she were wearing one, she jiggled her shoulders and hips in the signature move. Arnav-ji looked down, fighting a smile and failing.

"Use the bathroom while I'm gone," he recovered himself, "I have a lot of work today so I'll need to start early."

She nodded, "Okay."

#####

She was late to the puja — having fallen into daydreams in the shower — and so had hastily thrown on a cobalt blue salwaar suit before leaving the room, plaiting her hair messily as she flew down the stairs. Arnav-ji had returned as the family prayed, heading straight upstairs for a shower, but had joined them for breakfast.

"I have to make a phone call," he excused himself when he was done.

Khushi followed after helping pack away the breakfast things so she could finish getting ready.

I am not looking forward to spending more time with him.

Maybe I am.

She brushed her hair until it was smooth and shiny, but he still paced the poolside as he talked. So she brushed it some more, humming a nonsensical song that had come to her this morning.

Aaj mausam hai suhana!

Naye kapdon ka hai bahana!

What the, what the, what the!

Hum toh hain deewane!

Masti ko dhoonde bahane!

What the, what the, what the!

Khushi didn't turn around when he finally returned to the room and opened the wardrobe door, some part of her hoping that he'd talk to her again. But the minutes passed in silence, so she threw her hair over her shoulder as she turned. He stood frozen, staring at her with something akin to hunger in his eyes and her question died on her lips as her heart gave a vigorous thud.

Her tummy did a small backflip.

"What?" she asked softly.

"I ... uh ..." he cleared his throat, turning to the wardrobe, "Nothing."

He turned, shrugging into his jacket, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Chhote, Khushi-ji," Di smiled, "I'm going to put oil in my hair later and thought I would get some neem and tulsi."

"Why you, Di? I'll get it," Khushi offered, turning to the poolside doors.

She tripped on the basta of things she'd carelessly left near the sofa, and cringed as her sister-in-law gasped.

"Your clothes are still in these bags?"

Oh no.

Khushi turned slowly, dreading Arnav-ji's anger, and was unsurprised to find that he'd frozen where he was.

Oh Devi Maiyya, please help me.

"Khushi-ji," Di's began in a lecturing tone, "You are Chhote's wife. You aren't here for a day or two, or even a few months, you're here for the rest of your life."

"There is no future, and after the baby is born ..."

Twisting her hands into her dupatta, Khushi fought her tears as she studied the floor. She trembled, acutely aware that her husband still had not moved a muscle, as Di continued.

"So why haven't you unpacked?"

"Di ..." she said softly, "I ... you see ... Arnav-ji ..."

"Chhote ..." Di turned to her brother, "this is so wrong. Why are Khushi-ji's things still in the bag? And you have so much space, surely you can create some for her? All your shirts are black anyway, it won't matter if you push them to the side!"

Khushi willed Arnav-ji to read her apology in her eyes when he finally looked at her. He spoke, still holding her gaze.

"Di, I've told her so many times to set up all her things but she keeps forgetting."

He winked. She almost lost her balance. Di didn't seem to notice as she opened the wardrobe.

"Let's do this," Arnav-ji slid his shirts to one side of the wardrobe, "Khushi, bring your things."

Khushi jumped to attention, grabbing her basta and shuffling to his side. Di unpacked her outfits, Arnav-ji conjured up hangers from a drawer, and Khushi watched in a daze as her things took their place amongst his.

"Are you going to help?" her husband paused in his task.

"Y-yes, I ... I will."

He moved his ties into a drawer, making space for her cloth bags. Then he looked at Di, making a circle with his finger to indicate that she should turn around. Confused, Khushi followed suit, glancing at Di out of the corner of her eye. She heard Arnav-ji open and close a few drawers.

"Khushi-ji," Di leaned over to whisper, "Why are you turning around? You've seen it all before."

She blushed deeply as the realised what was happening.

Arnav-ji is moving his small-clothes out of the drawers.

"Okay," he announced a short time later, "That's ready for your things. Now shoes."

He helped Di squat next to the wardrobe before joining her.

"They're all black, Chhote," she teased.

"They're all different," he argued, "but I'll get Hari Prakash to pack a few away."

He moved more than half the pairs, making space, and then held out his hand for the second basta of shoes.

"I ... I can do it," Khushi managed.

He smiled warmly over Di's head before shifting over so she could kneel next to Di. And then, when her shoes were lined up neatly next to his, he handed her a small box.

"What's in there?" he asked as they both helped Di stand.

"Oh ..." she blushed, "it's a collection of my ... my things."

Khushi counted them out, "Lotion, jasmine oil, Bua-ji's balm."

"It looks perfect," Di clapped her hands together when they were done, "doesn't it?"

"Y-yes Di. Th-thank you for helping," Khushi turned to her husband, twisting her hands together nervously, "and th-thank you for making space for m-me."

He nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll ... I'll get the neem and tulsi now," she offered, "Di, why don't you wait for me in your room?"

Arnav-ji spoke as she reached the doors leading to the poolside.

"Bye, Di, I'll see you in the evening."

Despite her best efforts, Khushi remained where was, watching as he gathered his things. He stopped when he was alongside her.

"Bye," he said softly, "You can reach me on my mobile if you need me."

She nodded.

#####

Half an hour later, Khushi stood in the kitchen, her attention split between the sabzi she was cooking for lunch and the oil she was preparing for Di. Lakshmi-ji kept her company as she ground the leaves into a paste and added them to the warm oil.

"Lakshmi-ji, do you know how Bua-ji praises my fingers?"

Talking to her friend was easier than turning her mind to her puzzle of a husband.

"When I would add neem leaves to oil and massage her head then all she could say was Aaahh! Your hands are magical, Titaliya before falling asleep."

"Maybe you should show me how magical your hands are, Khushi-ji."

Devi Maiyya, give me strength.

She placed her spoon on the countertop, at first refusing to acknowledge Shyam-ji's presence, but then she couldn't resist throwing him a glare. He reached towards her as she started to leave.

"Give it to me, I'll take it. Your sabzi will burn."

She took a small step backwards, "No, I'll do it."

"I'm only asking for the oil, Khushi-ji, not your hand in marriage that you've become so nervous."

The joke made her feel slightly ill. Shyam-ji grinned. She looked down, noting the pestle she'd used to grind the leaves still sitting on the countertop, and an idea sprang into her mind. She pushed the pestle off the table and onto his foot, jumping backwards as he doubled over in pain.

"Sorry," she instilled sweetness she didn't feel into her tone as she glared down at him, "I hope it didn't hurt you! Take care of your foot for now, and I will send oil for you with Hari Prakash-ji."

Khushi marched to Di's room, head held high, and knocked on the door. Di was sitting on the bed, running her fingers through her hair.

"Oh Khushi-ji, I was just about to call you. But then he said that he'll get you. Did he find you?"

Khushi didn't answer, though guilt churned in her tummy as she climbed onto the bed to kneel behind Di. Shyam-ji walked into the room as she prepared to massage Di's head.

"I had to look far and wide for Khushi-ji," his smile was predatory, "but I found her eventually. Wherever she might go, she'll end up here. Isn't that right, Khushi-ji?"

Her pulse skittered at his words. Shocked, she watched in disbelief as he settled into a chair.

Di didn't seem to notice anything amiss as she leaned back, "Khushi-ji, it feels really good."

"Really, Rani Sahiba? It seems like Khushi-ji's hands are magical."

"Yes, that's right. I don't even feel like opening my eyes!"

"Then don't, Rani Sahiba. Just sit back and enjoy it. Relax."

Shyam-ji stared at her knowingly, the hidden meaning in his words clear. And Khushi squirmed in discomfort, wishing that she'd asked Di to meet her somewhere more public. Her heart raced with fear when he stood sometime later, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he picked something up.

"Khushi-ji," he approached, "Tissue paper. For your hands."

"N-no, I'll get some myself."

"Take it, Khushi-ji," Di said, her eyes still closed, "and then make sure you use besan to clean your hands."

Instead of accepting what Shyam-ji offered, Khushi took some tissues from the box, but he thwarted her by covering her hand with his.

"Anjali-ji" her voice rose in panic and disgust, "Open your eyes!"

Shyam-ji swiftly released her and dropped the tissue box on the bed. Anjali-ji looked up, frowning in confusion.

"I thought you were falling asleep," Khushi explained insincerely as Shyam-ji pretended to read a newspaper, "Please, sit on the bed properly."

Swallowing the lump that fear had caused in her throat, she climbed off the bed and fled Di's bedroom.

Arnav-ji will skin him alive if I tell him.

#####

She spent the rest of the day with her sister, helping around the house and then sitting with Nani-ji. They made plans to visit Mohan-ji in the hospital the next day. Then she and Jiji prepared dinner with the help of the servants, but just as they started to ready the table, Aakash-ji called to say that he and Arnav-ji would be late.

"Sit with me while I eat," Nani-ji smiled at this, "and then you children can all eat together when Aakash-bitwa and Arnav-bitwa return."

The suggestion was met with glad agreement and after the elders had gone to bed, the younger generation settled on the couches to wait. Nanhe-ji sprawled sideways on one of them, Di and Shyam-ji shared another, and Jiji sat on the third. Khushi settled on the floor next to her sister just as Di passed around an envelope.

"Two months ago, we were invited to a wedding. It's next week. I think we should all go."

"I can't," Nanhe-ji lamented as he munched on a chocolate bar, "I'm leaving for Mumbai in two days."

"What?!" cried Khushi.

"I also have a wedding to attend," he explained, "of a friend."

There were murmurs of assent from everyone else. Jiji thought that Aakash-ji would be able to attend. Di knew that Mami-ji had already picked out all her outfits. Shyam-ji said that he'd taken a few days off work so he could attend.

"But," he sneered, "perhaps Saale-Sahib won't be able to accompany us. He hates weddings, and he's always too busy."

Khushi curled her fingers into her kameez.

Di turned to her husband, "Chhote will come. It's Khushi-ji's first outing with us as a bahu, of course he'll accompany her."

"Of course, Rani Sahiba," he simpered.

"We can go shopping," Di suggested gleefully, "all of us."

Reaching for a handful of nuts from the bowl they'd brought over from the kitchen, Khushi heartily agreed. She had nothing appropriate for such an event, her first as a Raizada bahu.

But where will the money come from?

The doorbell prevented further discussion. Khushi stood, eager to escape Shyam-ji's stare, but Om Prakash-ji beat her to it. She remained standing, her heart pounding in anticipation. The realisation that she'd missed him, that she'd looked forward to this moment since he'd left her, took her completely by surprise.

Arnav-ji stepped inside first, handing Om Prakash-ji his laptop bag as he approached the sitting area. Khushi's heart lurched when his gaze found hers. Aakash-ji followed, coming to a stop behind Nanhe-ji's couch.

"Chhote, Aakash, is everything okay?" Di asked.

"Yes, Di," Jija-ji answered with a smile, "One of our internal meetings ran over time, and that delayed everything else."

"Have you eaten?"

This was from Arnav-ji.

"They waited," Di spoke before Khushi had gathered her words, "for their husbands. Such is the dedication of newlywed brides. My brothers are so lucky to have wives like these."

"Oh ho!" Nanhe-ji laughed, "What a love story. What's that quote from the movie? The family that eats together, prays together —"

"—stays together!" everyone — except her Laad Governor — chanted before dissolving into laughter.

"We'll wash up and then we can all eat," Aakash-ji grinned.

They all watched the two men jog upstairs. Khushi sank back down, curling her legs under her as she sat on the floor. She had trouble concentrating on the conversation as her eyes flicked towards the stairs every few seconds.

Aakash-ji returned first, having changed into more comfortable clothes. He lounged on the remaining seat with a sigh, where Jiji joined him almost immediately. With none of the elders around, they sat a little closer than they normally would have and were soon holding hands.

A pang of longing went through Khushi just as Arnav-ji arrived at the top of the stairs. He'd thrown off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Khushi noted that his hair looked wet as he navigated the sitting area and sank down on the now-empty seat behind her. He sat so close that his foot almost touched her hip and his leg rested against her back. She stilled, air stuck in her lungs and pulse racing.

"We were just talking about the wedding next week," Di began, "Will you two be able to go?"

Khushi studied her hands in her lap. She felt Arnav-ji shift behind her so that he was leaning forward. His leg was warm where it pressed against her.

"I should be able to go to the evening events," Aakash-ji replied.

"When is it?" Arnav-ji asked.

"Wednesday to Sunday," Di passed over the invitation, "Most of them are daytime events, Aakash."

"I'm not going. I hate these things."

"Chhote!" Di admonished sharply, "You have to go to the reception at least."

Arnav-ji scoffed, throwing the invitation onto the small table in the centre, "No."

Di leaned forward and lowered her tone dangerously, "It's Khushi-ji's first event with us. You need to be there."

"N-no, it's okay," Khushi ignored the way her heart sank, "I'll be fine. You will all be there anyway, there's no need for Arnav-ji to trouble ..."

She trailed off at a gentle tug on her hair.

Arnav-ji played with it as he hummed contemplatively, "I'll come for the reception then. Nothing else."

Khushi blushed, hoping no one else had noticed his attention.

"We're thinking of visiting Mohan-ji tomorrow," Jiji told Jija-ji, "and then going shopping."

"I've sent a few things to his family," Arnav-ji idly wrapped her hair around his hand, "and his bills should be taken care of. Ask him if he needs anything else."

Khushi's pulse raced as she looked up and noted that Di was grinning at them.

"Yes, Chhote," she saluted in his direction.

Khushi closed her eyes, heart pounding in her ears, as Arnav-ji made a small noise of amusement and unwound her hair. She opened them as he started wrapping it in figure-eights around his first and middle fingers.

"Does he ..." she cleared her throat, trying to concentrate on her words instead of the way his hands felt in her hair, "D-does Mohan-ji have a wife?"

"An older brother," Arnav-ji answered, "and an ailing father."

Jiji fretted, "They must be so worried. Isn't there something we can do?"

"We pay for his father's care too. They'll be fine, trust me," Aakash-ji leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I can accompany you ladies to the hospital tomorrow," Shyam-ji offered, "I'll drive you back home and then stop by the office."

Arnav-ji's hands stilled. Khushi leaned back, pressing onto his leg as a warning.

"I'll work from home tomorrow," her husband announced, "I'll drive them to the hospital. I need to talk to the doctor in any case."

Shyam-ji smiled, though his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Di distracted him by leaning into his arm.

"Thank you. You are so sweet, to offer to spend the morning away from the office. In fact, you're spending so much time with us these days, it's nice."

Out of the corner of her eye, Khushi saw that Arnav-ji's hand had curled into a first. She placed her hand over his and then guided it to her shoulder, reminding him to keep calm. He squeezed gently.

"I have no choice," Shyam-ji lamented absently, before recovering himself, "I mean, I want to be around my Rani Sahiba and Rajkumari all the time."

Though Aakash-ji chuckled, Khushi saw that Jiji looked vaguely disgusted. Feeling nauseated herself, she started to excuse herself but froze when Arnav-ji pushed down on her shoulder in a silent request that she remain. He then ran a light finger across her shoulder and up her neck under the cover of her hair. Heat rushed all over her as she was instantly diverted.

"I'm hungry," Nanhe-ji complained loudly, "When are we eating?!"

Di stood with a giggle, "OP has just finished setting the table, NK-Bhai! Let's go."

Khushi watched everyone drift into the dining room. Arnav-ji had not moved, and so she didn't either.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly when they were alone.

"Y-yes."

She cursed the tremble in her voice as he put two fingers under her chin to turn her so she faced him.

"Tell me."

She looked down, "It's ... it's nothing."

"What did he do, Khushi?" he cupped her cheek with a hand.

She leaned into his touch, trying her best not to cry, "Arnav-ji ..."

He swore under his breath, guiding her up until she sat next to him, and then rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'll fix this. I promise you. I'll fix this."