Chapter 28: Caress

Khushi

Khushi scrunched her nose against the pain in her shoulder and arm as she opened her eyes, but the ache all but flew away as she discovered its source. Arnav-ji sprawled untidily on the sofa, his hair in disarray and mouth slightly open, still holding her hand in his.

This is real. It has to be. He has no reason to pretend anymore.

The realisation made her heart skip several beats. She twisted, freeing herself without waking her husband, and tiptoed to the wardrobe.

"Khushi ..."

She turned at Arnav-ji's sleepy groan just in time to see him shift and get comfortable. Happiness blossomed in her heart as she slipped into the bathroom.

He was awake when she emerged, fiddling with his phone as he waited. He greeted her softly.

"Hi."

"H-hi," her heart raced.

Her husband watched in silence as she stood at the mirror and ran her fingers through her damp hair. Then, turning to the bangle organiser Di had kindly given her, Khushi selected the orange bangles Arnav-ji had once gifted her.

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

All the time, she was aware of his gaze. She wore the yellow and orange suit that he'd intended the bangles for, last worn on Jiji's haldi. Her fingers trembled, and she slipped as she slid the bangles home.

"Don't you have to get ready?" she asked crossly, refusing to look in his direction.

With a chuckle, Arnav-ji swung off the sofa to gather a shirt and slacks from the wardrobe, leaving her to breathe a sigh of relief and finish getting ready in peace. When he emerged, just as she was applying sindoor, Khushi watched his approach in the mirror as her heart once again did its best to leap out of her chest.

Hai Devi Maiyya, will I always be so affected by him?

He wore black and black and black, and as usual, she marvelled that it all looked so different despite being the same. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice that he stood behind her until he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into himself. He was solid, warm, and his breath tickled her neck.

Something about this felt oddly familiar.

"Ready for your first day?" Arnav-ji asked softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

He smiled when she nodded.

"I'll take you to the markets," he offered, "and then to AR. Lalit will drive you home. I have a late international call."

"Oh," Khushi breathed, "Lalit-ji can drive me, you don't have to."

She shuddered as he slid his hands from her shoulders to her waist and pulled her even closer. He dipped his head to press a soft kiss to her cheek. She thought her heart stopped beating altogether.

"I'm your husband. It's my right."

It was only after he'd left the room that she realised what'd felt so familiar about his embrace. She'd once childishly daydreamed of him standing behind her at the same mirror, blowing into her hair before insulting her choice of sari.

For once, she was glad to have been proven wrong.

My Laad Governor is romantic after all.

#####

Around noon, Khushi rushed into her husband's cabin to deposit a small yellow container on his desk. Ignoring his pointed stare, she hurriedly marked it off her list and prepared to run back to the door.

"Khushi," his call stopped her. "Come and sit down."

She looked down at her list and up at him, conflicted.

"Sit," he frowned.

"Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Arnav-ji spoke as she settled opposite him after placing her burdens on the floor, "How is your day going?"

"After shopping for all the vegetables and supplies, I cooked all the food in the canteen. Then I put it all into the containers. I have so much left to do, and I still have to order things for tomorrow."

"Relax," he smiled, "Breathe."

"No, you don't understand! All the food is already finished. But the carrots weren't that good, that vendor is going to—"

"—Khushi—"

"—What did we decide last night? KKGSR Dabba Service? I have to get business cards printed. I'll ask Jija-ji to help me."

Arnav-ji stood abruptly, rounding the table in three quick strides to tower over her. She looked away, suddenly unable to breathe.

In one smooth movement, he pushed her chair backwards and leaned in, "Khushi, look at me."

She did. He was close, so close that she would only have to lean up to kiss him.

Suddenly she couldn't think of anything else. Heat gathered in places it had never pooled before she'd met him.

"Done?" Arnav-ji asked softly.

Khushi nodded, giving herself a mental shake.

"We have a small problem," he continued, "Shukla, the man who runs the canteen now, is upset that you've stolen his business."

"Oh."

Immediately, she felt wretched that she hadn't thought of the man.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him this afternoon."

Shaking her head, Khushi placed her hand on Arnav-ji's chest. "I'll talk to him."

"I don't—"

"—I want to do this," she interrupted his protest, "I'll talk to Shukla-ji. I'm sure there's a solution."

"Khushi, you don't know this world of negotiations and contracts."

"I'm a sweet-maker's daughter and a businessman's wife," she poked his chest, "I know enough."

Though he tried to scowl, Arnav-ji couldn't stop one corner of his mouth from tilting into a smile.

"Okay, but I'll intervene if I see a need to."

"You won't need to, you'll see."

#####

The afternoon found Khushi in the kitchen, helping the servants pick what they would have for dinner. Arnav-ji's had called to say that his international teleconference had been postponed.

Her heart leapt in her chest as the front door opened.

He's home.

She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tremours that ran through her body. The memory of his hands, their exquisite heat at her waist, sent a jolt of electricity through her. The low rumble of his voice as he spoke to Hari Prakash-ji reminded her of the husk of his voice as he'd spoken that morning.

"I'm your husband. It's my right."

Husband.

She put some water on to boil and readied two cups on the counter before standing on her toes to reach the canister of coffee. Hari Prakash-ji had taught her to make it just the way Arnav-ji took it. Black, no sugar.

He came into the kitchen as she finished up, "Hi."

Oh Devi Maiyya.

Her voice wobbled as she responded, "H-how was your day at the office?"

"Long," he leaned against the counter, watching her intently as she packed up, "even without the international call."

She handed him the cup, "Coffee?"

Accepting it with a small smile, he took a sip before placing it beside him on the counter.

"You know you don't have to do this, right? There are lots of people in this house who are paid to do things like this."

"I'm your wife," she took half a step towards him, "it's my right."

He smiled at the echo of his words from this morning, "Okay then, Wife, tell me what happened with Shukla."

She launched into an explanation of how she and Shukla-ji had decided to share the burden of the dabba service. He would take charge of the shopping and delivery, leaving her free to prepare menus and cook.

"Sounds like everything worked out," Arnav-ji drained his coffee.

Settling next to him, she rested her weight on the countertop as she drank from her cup, "Yes. And Nani-ji gave her blessing for the business, so now everything's fine."

"Hmm," turning, he used a light finger to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear, "okay."

"Wh-what ... are you ..."

"Ssshhh," he soothed, now tracing her cheek, "Thank you for the coffee."

Her mind struggled for an explanation for this sudden change in demeanour.

Maybe someone is watching us.

Arnav-ji stepped forward just as she thought to look. His eyes didn't leave hers as his hands came up to rest on the countertop, trapping her where she stood. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. She inhaled the soft, earthy scent of him every breath, her heart hammering and palms suddenly sweaty. Though a part of her was aware that he was only doing this because someone was watching their every move, it seemed that her thoughts had frozen.

"At least pretend that you like me," his murmur brought her back to the present.

Some emotion squeezed at her chest as she nodded. Khushi stared up at her husband, noting vaguely that his hair was getting too long. Her fingers trembled against the soft fabric of his waistcoat. He gave a soft sound of approval that set her aflame.

He leaned forward, so near that he was sure to hear the rapid thunder of her pulse, and then his eyes dropped to her mouth as her lips parted. His gaze seemed to darken. She suddenly felt light-headed with his nearness.

Afterwards, she would claim that she forgot. That the pressure of keeping up so many pretences had frazzled her thoughts. That she had, momentarily, been unable to tell the difference between Real and Not Real.

It took the slightest movement, the smallest tilt of her head and hips and shoulders, and then her lips brushed against his.

A moment passed, a moment in which she didn't even dare draw breath, and then he dipped his head to do the same. She was instantly filled with warmth and electricity. Her fingers twisted into his clothes as he grazed her mouth with his, the action surer than when she had done it. But he did not kiss her, not in the way she'd imagined him kissing her since that encounter last Diwali.

Arnav-ji straightened, and it seemed that the world came rushing back in the next instant — the quiet murmur of conversation, the muted din of Delhi traffic. They stared at one another for a beat before he offered his hand.

"Upstairs. Now."

He pulled her along, ignoring the bewildered looks of a couple of servants in the corridor, and released her only when they were in the bedroom. Khushi locked the doors, heart pounding.

Is he going to kiss me again?

But there was none of the warmth and gentleness she'd expected when he faced her. She quailed, retreating until her back hit the doors, and he followed, placing a hand near her head to trap her where she stood. The steps of this dance now familiar, she was unsurprised when he caged her against the door by cutting off her only avenue of escape as she turned.

And though he stood just as close as he'd been in the kitchen, there was something altogether different about his nearness now. She fixed her gaze on his shoulder, suddenly afraid of what she might read in his eyes.

Regret? Anger? Or something else?

"What did you just do?" his tone was roughened by emotion.

The atmosphere between them seemed charged.

Khushi's pulse stalled, "Wh-what?"

The scent of him threatened to overpower her as he leaned in, "What was that?"

A deep breath, "Nothing!"

Arnav-ji crowded her against the doors, clearly unimpressed, "Khushi, tell me."

"I thought someone was watching us," she blurted.

It was only half the truth, and she instantly regretted her words.

Her husband leaned back, "You thought someone was watching us?"

Something in his tone, a tremble perhaps, prompted her to finally meet his eyes. She stopped breathing.

"He ... he told me it was all a lie. A distraction."

"I can't tell anymore. It never goes away, his voice."

The realisation that she'd committed the gravest error caused her to sag against the doors.

"N-no, Ar-Arnav-ji ..."

But he already turning away. Arnav-ji snatched up his car keys from the table and headed to the poolside doors.

No.

She ran, reaching him just he started to open the sliding door and stretched around him to push it closed again.

"Get lost!"

"No," Khushi slid her arms around him and pressed herself into his back, "No ... I ... I didn't mean ..."

I wanted to kiss you.

I want you to kiss me.

I love you.

But the words wouldn't form on her tongue.

How easy it had been to dream about saying these things to him, to dream of his happy, accepting response.

And how difficult it was to say them now when everything seemed wrong.

Arnav-ji raised his hands to close them over hers with a sigh, "Khushi ..."

"I'm sorry," she tried to speak around the sobs that threatened to take over.

He turned carefully and threaded the fingers of one hand into her hair as she continued.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out. I'm sorry I didn't tell you afterwards. I'm sorry. If I'd just ... if I'd just told you then ... but I was ... I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

"I would have helped you," he spoke softly, leaning his forehead against hers, "I wish you'd trusted me."

"I did. I do. I ... just ..."

Arnav-ji folded her close, his arms tight around her as her tears overflowed, "Ssshhh. Okay, don't cry."

But then, after a few moments of silence, "Was I so bad, Khushi?"

She looked up. His hands framed her face gently.

"Was I so unapproachable? So cold? That you didn't come to me the moment you found out?"

"N-no, Arnavi-ji, that's not—"

"— That you didn't tell me when my own sister ..."

The last of her hesitation disappeared, "I was afraid."

"Because of Aakash and Payal?"

"Yes," she whispered her confession, "And because of ... y-you. I didn't want ... I ... I ..."

I love you.

"Ssshhh" he soothed.

Khushi thought back to that day, to Anjali-ji's broken mangalsutra and tears as she fretted about Shyam-ji, to her own hesitation and then decision not to tell her, to Arnav-ji's care and worry at the poolside the day before.

And to a deep, hidden fear, unacknowledged until this moment.

I was afraid of his reaction.

I was afraid of losing him.

There had been a moment — brief and fleeting and instantly buried — in which she'd realised that revealing her part in Shyam-ji's deception might close his heart to her forever.

But he was going to marry Lavanya-ji, a small voice argued.

But he drove to the temple to bandage my finger. He was hurt when he found out about my engagement.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Khushi's voice was soft, "I didn't want you to think that I ... that I was ..."

"I would never."

"You almost did. That night ..."

"That night I was angry," he looked away, "I was hurt. I thought I saw ..."

"What if I hadn't told you?" she gripped his collar, "What would you have done if I hadn't come to you?"

Her husband closed his eyes, shaking his head as he took a deep breath. He was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was a whisper she had to lean up to hear.

"I don't know what I would have been capable of."

"Arnav-j—"

"—But I would have found my back to you, Khushi."

He opened his eyes. Her heart faltered on seeing tears.

"I would have found my way back."

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