Chapter 27: Catering

Khushi

Khushi smoothed her hands over the pink salwaar suit she wore, adjusted her dupatta, and then stepped out into the corridor. Arnav-ji had gone out for a jog, and she was on her way to the morning puja.

"Good morning, Khushi-ji," Di greeted her brightly, "Can you please help with this?"

Skipping to Di's side with a smile, she helped with the puja preparations as the rest of the family filtered into the temple area. But she was distracted from her prayers by the return of her husband and watched as he murmured something to Om Prakash-ji before making his way towards the stairs. He slowed as he neared the temple and inclined his head in her direction in a silent greeting. His damp hair fell into his eyes. Her tummy swooped low as her cheeks and neck heated with a blush.

Hai Devi Maiyya, he's so handsome.

Khushi tried to concentrate on her prayers after shaking that errant thought out of her head, but it felt as though every fibre of her being was waiting for him to return. She was setting the table when he did, and her pulse stuttered when she saw that he was showered and dressed for work in blue and black.

They'd made progress last night. Or ... if not progress ... then they'd set their feet on a new path. Together. They had come to an understanding and were finally on the page, a realization that inspired the nervous-excited flutter inside her.

"He told me you never wanted me. That all of it — the kiss, the dance, the earring — it was all a lie. A deception."

And here — finally — was a problem she could fix.

She couldn't beg him to trust, couldn't conjure up evidence to prove her innocence, couldn't force Shyam-ji into revealing himself. But she could show Arnav-ji that she wanted him. That she'd always wanted him, even when she hadn't known it herself.

Rounding the table, Khushi stood at her husband's side and began buttering toast for him. When he reached for the orange juice, looking amused by this change her routine, she hurriedly dropped the toast on his plate before grabbing the jug.

"What the—!"

"I'll do it," she smiled while pouring it into his glass, "You eat."

He grabbed her wrist and forced her into the chair beside him, "Sit. Eat."

A ripple of laughter travelled around the table as Di leaned forward, "Chhote, you're very concerned about your wife this morning."

Arnav-ji glowered at his sister and bit into his toast without comment. But a few minutes later, when everyone else was distracted by something Mami-ji said, he flashed a smile in her direction. After breakfast, Khushi followed her husband upstairs to help get his things together for work.

"I hope your day goes well," she handed him his phone after unplugging it from where he'd left it to charge.

He pocketed it distractedly, "Thanks, take care of yourself."

Khushi, be brave.

Arnav-ji looked up as she took a step forward, finally giving her all of his attention when they were close enough to touch. She didn't stop. He seemed to freeze as she wound her arms around his torso and rested her head against his shoulder.

Their embrace wasn't long. Khushi stepped away, trying to hide her blush behind her hair.

And her husband broke their not-quite-awkward silence, "Come to the door with me?"

#####

Khushi sighed as she watched Di knit something for her Rajkumari. He hadn't kissed her at the front door, but he'd smiled and squeezed her hand in farewell before leaving.

It's a start.

"What should we have for lunch today?" Anjali-ji didn't look up as she spoke.

"I can make something," Jiji's hands stilled over the sari she was embroidering, "I have to make something for Aakash anyway."

"I'll help!" Khushi popped up, eager for the distraction, "Jiji and I will make something special for everyone!"

"The servants can make something," Di shook her head, "You two should relax. It's only your first week in the house."

"No, Di, I need the ... I might go crazy if I sit around and do nothing today."

Hurrying to the kitchen, Khushi busied herself with the task gladly and chattered with her Jiji as they worked together. Di joined them as they were finishing up.

"Khushi-ji, Payal-ji, you've made so much food!"

"It should be enough for all of us, even Jija-ji and Arnav-ji," she smiled at her sister-in-law.

"It's enough for everyone who works at AR," Di picked up a salad platter, "This looks like it came from a five-star hotel!"

"That's very kind of you, Di, but I made that without paying attention."

"If this is what you can make without paying attention, imagine what you can do when you put your mind to it!"

Not knowing how to reply, Khushi ducked her head as they watched Di poke around in one of the pots.

"You know," Di said slowly, "I would suggest that you take this to AR but I'm sure Chhote has ordered pizza by now. The AR canteen is closed today."

"How do you know that?" Jiji echoed Khushi's surprise.

Di clapped her hands together with a mischievous smile, "My spies are everywhere!"

Khushi's heart leapt at the prospect of seeing Arnav-ji during the day.

"I can take this to the offices," she couldn't stop her grin, "Who would want to eat pizza when they could have this instead?"

It was quickly decided that Lalit-ji would drive both her and Jiji to the headquarters. Ecstatic, Khushi decided to make some jalebi to accompany the food and grinned when her sister joined her to help. She couldn't stop her hands from mixing up a batch without sugar.

Later, the food was packed into containers and laden into a white car, while she and Jiji bundled themselves into the back seat. Khushi noted that Jiji had found the time to change into a dark green sari and put her hair up into a complicated knot. She looked down at her pink salwaar, wondering if she should have changed as well.

But she put aside her doubts as the car slowed to a stop outside the offices. Lalit-ji helped them carry the things to the front entrance, where they were stopped by the security guards.

"You can't go inside," one of them said.

"Of course I can," Khushi grinned, "I have food for everyone."

"You still can't go inside."

"Do you know who I am?" she narrowed her eyes at the man, lowering her burdens to the floor.

A shrug from the second guard, "Khushi. You used to work here."

She pulled out her mangalsutra from behind her dupatta, "Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada. Don't you read the newspapers?"

The men faltered, their eyes seeming to widen with surprise as they stammered.

"Shall we call Arnav-ji?" Jiji spoke from behind her, "or may we go inside?"

The guards stepped aside with an apologetic smile.

"I'm ... I'm sorry ... Khushi-ji," one said, "Let me carry this for you."

"It's okay, I've got it," she gathered up her things, "Make sure you come inside to eat."

One of the guards held the door open for them while the other ran inside to speak with the lady at the reception desk. They marched inside without any more interruptions, and Khushi headed straight for the canteen to set everything up. The employees gathered around curiously.

"That's not the pizza we ordered," a man in cream coloured shirt said.

"You won't want pizza when you've tasted this," Khushi declared as the unpacked the food, "trust me."

"But Sir ..."

"It's okay, have some."

"Payal? Khushi-ji? What are you doing here?"

Aakash-ji frowned as he approached the counter they stood behind.

"We brought lunch," Jiji handed over the tiffin she'd lovingly prepared, "Khushi made enough for everyone."

Jiji and Jija-ji took their food to his office for privacy. Aakash-ji's arrival — and obvious approval — made some employees brave enough to draw near the counter. Khushi prepared plates for them, watching as the rest slowly formed a line. Her eyes anxiously darted to the door, hoping for a glimpse of her husband.

He arrived as she was finishing up.

"What the—!"

"Arnav-ji!"

"What are you doing here? And what's all this?"

Khushi faltered — he didn't seem as happy as she'd hoped. "I uhh ... I brought food for everyone b-because the canteen is cl-closed today."

Arnav-ji closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost as if he were struggling for calm.

"In my cabin," his voice was a low and tinged with danger, "Now."

Khushi grabbed the special tiffin she'd packed for him before following, hurrying up the stairs and into his office as trepidation flooded her.

Please protect me, Devi Maiyya.

"Are you angry?" she asked once the door was shut behind her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I told you ... I made food."

"What! For whom?!"

"Everyone. We ... Jiji and I made too much at home, and your ... your canteen was closed so we thought ... so I thought ..."

"Khushi!"

She smiled tentatively, forcing herself to ignore the anger in his eyes and step forward.

"It's okay, Arnav-ji. They liked it. And some people even requested food for tomorrow."

"No!"

"What?"

"Go home," his tone was all cold, quiet fury, sharp-edged and brittle.

"But—"

"—Get your things and go home, Khushi," he bit out.

His anger sparked her own, "No!"

"I'm telling you to—"

"—No, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada. I have as much right to be here as you do," she showed him her mangalsutra, "I'm your wife."

He froze, and so did she. Memories sprang to life between them.

"You understand that this is not real?"

"Yes."

"Papers to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."

The anger seemed to seep out of the room, leaving only the bitter reminder of they'd come to be here. Dread pooled her in her tummy as she watched Arnav-ji close his eyes and suck in a deep breath.

"Khushi," he spoke softly, almost imploringly, "please go home. We'll talk later."

She spoke to her shoes, "I'll go once I've collected my things and Jiji is ready to leave."

Turning on her heels, she all but ran from the cabin as her throat closed around a sob.

The tiffin remained on his desk.

#####

Jiji, giddy with happiness from her private lunch, didn't seem to notice her melancholy mood on the way home.

"Daydreaming about your husband," she teased when Khushi had been inattentive for the third time, "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Arnav-ji was too busy to eat," Khushi forced a smile, "He'll eat when he can."

Jiji nodded, "It's okay. You know how hard he works."

Though she wanted to remind her sister that she'd been acquainted with the family first, and had known her husband for far longer, Khushi turned to the window without a word. At home, she let Jiji do most of the talking and busied herself by sweeping the poolside at the first opportunity.

Then she cleaned the temple area, tidied the storeroom, and fussed over the laundry the dhobi had returned.

"I'll go crazy sitting around all day," she waved the serving staff away when they tried to help.

She passed the hours this way until the chime of the doorbell announced the return of her husband. Then she retreated upstairs to fold and put away their clothes, dreading the confrontation she knew was coming.

Her husband entered the room in silence, standing next to the bed and placing a tiffin on the bedside table before turning to regard her. She studied his shoes.

You're not supposed to be angry. Not at me. Not anymore.

When Arnav-ji left the bedroom on a sigh, she slid their clothes into the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed to reply to a message from her mother. The door clicked open, signalling his return. She looked up when she heard something scrape against the carpet.

"The entire family knows we're not talking," he mentioned casually.

He dragged the sofa next to the bed and then did the same with the small white table. A large silver tray sat covered on the table.

"They asked if you wanted dinner," he elaborated as he worked, "and I said I'd take a tray. Di worried you were unwell after all the work you did today. So I had to tell her."

Oh.

She looked at the tray. He spoke again before she could give voice to the urge to apologise for worrying Di.

"Khushi ..." he dropped onto the sofa with a sigh, "You're going to drive me mad."

She watched curiously as he uncovered a meal. Chaat. Potatoes. Vegetarian biryani.

All her favourite things, things she'd told him about the other night.

Oh.

"Eat with me," Arnav-ji pushed the tray towards her.

When she didn't move towards the food, he broke off some roti and picked up the potato before holding it to her lips.

"Eat."

He ran a knuckle over her cheek after she accepted. Khushi shivered, closing her eyes as heat spread through her.

"Are you angry?" she asked hesitantly.

"No."

Noticing that he didn't seem interested in feeding himself, she put her phone aside and reached for the tray.

"Then?" she broke off a piece of roti and wrapped it around the sabzi.

He didn't answer. Khushi fed him, trying her best to keep her fingers clear of his lips.

"Some people asked for food for tomorrow as well," her voice wavered into their short silence, "They ordered things they want to eat."

"No," he prepared another morsel.

"But Arnav-ji—" her protest was cut off as he fed her again.

"No, Khushi. Once is enough."

"Why!?" she asked as soon as she was finished.

"Those are my employees. It looks ... odd ... if my wife is cooking for them."

"They're offering to pay me," she fed him.

"Hmmmpf," he swallowed quickly, "That's worse! You can't work for my employees. That would be very strange for me!"

"It's not strange!"

"Khushi, if you need money then—"

"—Look, I know you keep track of all your money, and that you lent me money for the clothes and then again on Holi, and I just want to make enough to repay you."

His hand froze between them, on its way to feed her again, "What?"

"I'll pay you back. I promise. I should have written it down and signed it, I know, but I promise I will. Is that for me?"

Arnav-ji fed her absently, seeming suddenly deep in thought.

"So you'll cook the food at here and take it to the office every day? Feed everyone?"

Khushi frowned as she fed him, "That doesn't sound right, does it?"

"There are kitchens there."

"So I go there in the morning, cook and feed everyone, and then leave with you in the afternoon? Like Madhu-Aunty used to? Well, without the leaving-with-you part."

"Yeah," his smile was small, "and as her replacement does now."

They mapped out a plan as they fed each other. It seemed reasonable, but doubt crawled into Khushi's mind.

"You mentioned that someone runs the canteen now. Will they mind?"

"I don't know. He seems ... unreliable."

She considered her options as she tidied up the tray.

"I ate everything but the jalebi," Arnav-ji titled the tiffin he'd placed on the bedside table towards her.

"And?" she reached for the sugar-free treats he offered.

"It was delicious."

Happiness soaked into her in a rush as he settled back on the sofa and bit into a jalebi.

He spoke again, "It will get you out of the house."

Away from Shyam-ji.

"Y-yes."

"Khushi, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely," she smiled at her husband.

Arnav-ji stood with the tray, "Okay then."

She stood as well, stopping him with a hand to his elbow.

"I'll take it down, you freshen up."

Nodding, he transferred the tray into her hands and walked to the wardrobe. Khushi carried the remains of their dinner — and his lunch — downstairs, where she was met with glad exclamations from the ladies in her family. She sat with them, enjoying the company after an afternoon spent alone, and was surprised when her husband appeared in the corridor leading to the stairs. He inclined his head towards the bedroom and left before anyone else noticed him.

Claiming tiredness, she rose to her feet to head upstairs. Arnav-ji was typing rapidly on his laptop as he lay back on the sofa — still next to the bed — and barely looked up as she entered. Unsure what she'd been expecting, Khushi crossed to the bathroom to change into a white night-suit and brush her teeth and hair.

The laptop was gone when she returned to the bedroom. Instead, Arnav-ji stared at the ceiling, one hand bent behind his head and the other draped across his middle. His hair fell into his eyes. Heat coursed through her as she noticed that his shirt had hitched up, revealing a strip of golden skin.

Why did you make him so handsome? she pouted mentally at her best friend.

Clearing her head with a cough, Khushi settled on the bed.

"What?"

He frowned, using that uncanny ability of his to read her discomfort.

"N-nothing."

But there was something. Before she could second-guess herself, she stretched to press a swift kiss to his cheek. He seemed to stop breathing altogether.

She leaned back, cheeks heating with a blush, "Thank you."

Arnav-ji hummed in response, tapping his fingers against his torso, and then suddenly reached out to capture her hand in his.

"What are you going to call it?"

"Gupta Raizada Lunch Service."

He snorted softly, "Why not Raizada Gupta?"

"Well ... I guess ... uhh ..."

"Forget it."

"Wait," Khushi twisted, sliding her feet under the covers as she faced him, "What about KKGSR Dabba Service?"

"Better," he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

Lost in his touch, she spoke without thinking, "Tell me something."

Arnav-ji twisted so he could meet her eyes, "What?"

"An-anything," she ventured, suddenly nervous, "Like ... like that other night when I told you ..."

He considered her, not unkindly, for a long moment. Then, turning, he spoke to the ceiling.

"I don't like karela, but everyone assumes I do. Because ... diabetes."

Khushi tried to stifle her giggle but he heard anyway.

"Shut-up, Khushi," he smiled.

"Sorry. But ... who would believe that Arnav Singh Raizada is forced to eat karela?"

"I like kheer, as you know," he ignored her, tightening his grip on her hand, "I like gardening."

He fell silent.

And then, as her eyelids became heavy, "I went to Laxmi Nagar after you said you were returning to Lucknow. I saw your house. There were locks on your door."

Air left her lungs all at once.

"Di wanted to go to the temple," he said by way of explanation.

Another short silence, in which she fiddled with her pillow with her free hand.

"I went looking for you on Janmashtami. You weren't where I left you. I thought ..." he trailed off, and only spoke again after three quick breaths, "I looked for you but you'd already returned home. I didn't come home until I knew you were okay."

In the silence, Khushi remembered the chaos of that night. Tricking him to the puja. His anger. Their argument. Him leaving in a squeal of a rage, spattering her with mud. The long walk home. That brief, inexplicable feeling of his nearness as she'd tried to make her Jiji smile.

He was really there.

"Those bangles ... I wanted you to wear something I'd gotten for you. Not NK. Me."

And while she was still recovering from the very earth tilting on its axis, Arnav-ji turned to her.

"That's enough for one night, hmm? Shall we sleep?"

She nodded, smiling a small smile as she processed everything he'd said.

Her hand was still in his, bridging the space between the bed and the sofa when sleep finally overtook her.

I wanted to give a heartfelt thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and to comment on Charade :) Special thanks to Perditrix and candicane26 and CelestialTitania :D

I hope you liked this update! Please let me know what you think :)

applesauce: "Hey was just wondering when d next update would be...its been over two months...no hurry...just the story is too good to be abandoned:)"

I'm so sorry! I was on holiday for eight weeks and then had to write and edit etc while experiencing some upheaval in my personal life. I would never abandon Charade haha.