Chapter 12: Arnav

Sunday afternoon found Arnav pacing the length of his bedroom, aware that Nani and Di expected a response from him by the end of the day. He looked at his still and silent phone, willing Khushi to contact him.

Stay away, Arnav.

Everything about her - her traditional ways, her religious devotion, her goddamned pom-poms - should've sent him running. And yet, his mind played out one impossible fantasy after another. He imagined her by his side at work, brow furrowed as she considered fabric samples. He imagined her at the dining table, grinning as sweets were set in front of her. He saw them going on drives, he saw her smile at him in restaurants, he saw her clutch his arm as he escorted her to business events.

She, or her family, will reject the alliance soon enough.

A part of him recognised that he was being unfair, compromising her chances of marrying well – the more time she spent with him, the more gossip there would be when the rejection came. But he forgot all about that in her presence. Even her probing, disappointed comments about religion had failed banish his chaotic, treacherous musings.

The shrill ring of his phone broke through his thoughts. He answered it after a slight hesitation.

"Hello?"

Silence. And then a series of low beeps indicating that the call had been disconnected.

"What the-" he breathed, frowning at the now-blank screen.

Khushi.

He couldn't say how he knew. Only that he knew, with absolute certainty, that the call had come from her. Arnav redialled the number, anticipation triggering a tightness in his chest and shortening his breath.

"Hallo?" her Bua-ji answered.

He cut the call. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Arnav contemplated the number on the screen. His thumb hovered over the CALL button.

Never seem overeager in a negotiation.

This isn't a negotiation, damn it.

Then what is it?

Nothing. It is nothing.

He called again, refusing to examine his actions too closely. Khushi answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Does your Bua-ji always answer your phone?"

There was a pause of several heartbeats, in which he could hear her breathing into the phone. His irritation subsided.

"Ar-Arnav-ji?"

"I'm returning your call."

"Oh. I was calling because ... because ... you see ... Babu-ji said ..."

Babu-ji said that you cannot see me again, he filled her silence, that you cannot marry an atheist, no matter how rich he is.

Arnav closed his eyes as a cold, slick, hollowness opened inside his chest.

This is what you want, Arnav.

"Babu-ji said that ..." Khushi continued her halting reply, "... that I can see you again if I want."

"What?" his eyes snapped open.

Another silence, as if she'd used up her meagre courage in saying it once and couldn't repeat herself.

"And what do you want, Khushi?"

He waited, pulse roaring in his ears.

"I want to ask you some questions."

.

Three weeks and an emergency trip to Mumbai later, Arnav drove to Laxmi Nagar on a Friday night, ignoring Di and Aakash as they discussed – loudly - whether Chhote was falling in love. He scowled at his siblings before sliding out of the car. Her Bua-ji opened the door when he knocked, inviting him in with a smile, but he declined.

"We have reservations, Bua-ji. I'm just here for Khushi and Payal, Di and Aakash are waiting ..."

He lost track of the conversation as Khushi appeared in the archway behind Madhumati-ji, wearing a red salwaar suit that flattered her figure. She joined her Bua-ji at the door, throwing him a shy smile in greeting as Payal followed, dressed in a sky blue salwaar suit.

"I'll have them home before it's too late," Arnav promised, tearing his eyes from Khushi's scarlet clad figure.

"Take care of my girls, babua, and drive safely. You never know what's going to happen at night, Nand Kishore! Why, just the other day I was in a rickshaw-"

"Bua-ji ..." Khushi interrupted.

"Yes, well. Go, go."

The girls followed him off the porch after saying their goodbyes, and Khushi's hand trembled in his as he helped her into the car. Arnav watched her in the rear view mirror as he turned the ignition. She sat between her sister and his, her hands wheeling in the air as she spoke to Di, but quieted when their eyes met in the mirror. Khushi held his gaze until he had to look away to navigate the narrow alleyways of her neighbourhood. He saw his brother grin in the passenger seat.

Khushi and Payal gasped when they stepped inside the restaurant, which was all sleek lines and dark woods softened by candles and lights that dropped from the ceiling. They were shown to their table by an overly curious man who spent his time guessing at the dynamics between the five of them. Arnav held a chair out for Khushi after helping Di take her seat, but she stepped around him to stand beside the chair across from it.

"What?" she asked when she noticed his frown.

"I was holding it out for you."

"Oh."

She shuffled back to his side, eyeing both him and the chair warily. He guided it under her as she sat, but she slipped, apparently not expecting the movement, and saved herself by gripping the table.

"Are you okay?" Arnav asked in undertone.

She nodded, hiding her blush behind a menu as he rounded the table to sit across from her. He felt his mouth tilt upwards.

Pagal. [Crazy]

Aakash settled next to him, so the women were on one side of the rectangular table and they on the other.

"Bhai, I know you usually order meat outside the house, but here ... with Khushi-ji ..."

Arnav nodded, having already decided on vegetarian food. Conversation stalled as everyone perused the menu, with Di discussing options quietly with Payal.

"What will you have?" he asked Khushi some time later.

The sight of her absently biting her lip sent heat rushing through him.

"I don't know ..." she said distractedly.

"What looks good?"

"Tomato basil pasta."

"Get it. I'll order it too."

"No," Khushi's protest came swiftly, "Order whatever you want."

He shrugged, "I'll eat what you eat."

Her eyes lit up and a blush painted her cheeks pink. When the waiter returned to ask after their orders, he ordered the vegetarian pasta for them both before settling back into his chair. He felt himself relax as he watched his sister giggle. AR was growing in leaps and bounds, but the extra demands left too little time for family. Khushi fitted in almost seamlessly, joking with Aakash and gossiping with Di with a smile on her lips. She even tried to coax him into the conversation with open-ended observations.

I never thought she'd bring us together like this. No wonder Nani wants her for a daughter-in-law. She's ... kind of ... perfect.

Arnav turned his mind away from that line of thinking.

She wants to ask questions, he reminded himself, and she won't like the answers.

They toasted Aakash's recent success in Nainital before digging in. The waiter returned with dessert menus after their plates had been cleared. Khushi perused hers with enthusiasm. She helped Di and Payal pick cakes and selected an ice cream for herself before sliding the small book towards him.

"You can't have much," she pointed out sadly.

"Aakash and I will have coffee."

Di threw him a wink as the dessert things were cleared away before suggesting that he and Khushi take a walk around the lake. Khushi looked to her sister for permission before nodding, her eyes asking a silent question as they met his. Arnav led her outside without comment, where they started on a slow circuit.

He offered his jacket when he saw her shiver in the cool night air. She looked both vulnerable and utterly irresistible in his clothes. He was content in their silence, though he noted that she seemed to be gathering herself up for something.

"Can we play a game?" Khushi asked a few minutes later.

"I don't like games."

His tone was sharper than he'd intended.

"It ... It's not really a g-game. It's more ... a way to get to know each other."

"Okay," he said softly, trying to keep the trepidation from his voice.

"I'll ask you a question, and you answer it, and then I'll answer it too. For example, what's your favourite colour?"

Arnav allowed his eyes to take in her slim figure, strolling beside him in crimson. "Red."

"I thought it was black," Khushi giggled, "I love all bright colours, the brighter the better. But I love yellow and green ... Now you ask a question."

Though simple, the game was smart. The person asking held the power, but had to make themselves vulnerable by answering too. He mulled over the possibilities.

I can't ask anything I'm not willing to share.

"Your favourite flower?" he ventured.

"Roses, red ones."

"I like roses too."

Mamma loved the red ones best.

"You like gardening, don't you?" Khushi asked, "Those pots and the terrace garden are yours."

"Yeah."

"It's beautiful."

Emotion swelled in his chest at the praise.

"I like to dance," she revealed, "I dance and sing all the time."

"Nani loves to dance and sing. So do Mami and Di."

"Not you?"

"I don't dance," he said simply.

"Your favourite holiday?" she asked.

"Uhhh ... Diwali, if I had to pick one."

"Holi."

"It's the colours isn't it?" Arnav smiled when she nodded, "Your favourite food?"

"Jalebi," came the instant reply, "I love jalebi. I eat them all the time, and I make them when I'm upset."

"I've always loved kheer."

"Sugar free?"

Arnav nodded, "Di makes it. And before her ..."

Mamma would make it for me whenever we had something to celebrate.

He felt Khushi take his hand in the silence that followed.

"My Amma and Babu-ji died in a car accident when I was eight," she said softly, "Jiji's Amma is my Maasi."

For a brief, absurd moment, Arnav thought she'd read his mind. But the truth of his parents' deaths had never been hidden from the girls or their families, though the circumstances had gone unmentioned. He squeezed her fingers instinctively, wanting to reassure and protect her at the same time. She didn't let go, and neither did he.

It shouldn't have felt so right.

"The sugar. Have you always ..."

"Yeah. Childhood diabetes."

Khushi only nodded, and the singing of the cicadas punctuated their short silence.

"Your favourite TV serial?" she asked some time later.

"What the-?" Arnav glanced at her, wondering if she was making fun. She blinked at him, innocent in her earnestness.

"I don't watch any," he answered shortly, "Mami watches one ... the music is irritating ... the man is always angry. Sagar? Or something."

"Rabba Ve!" Khushi squealed, "That's my favourite serial! Sagar is a media tycoon and Muskaan is a girl from Lucknow. She's sweet, and cute, and brave. He's angry and mean, but very handsome. Especially when ..."

Khushi looked away as she trailed off.

"Especially when ...?" he prompted.

"When he smiles."

He bit down his own smile, liking the way she blushed and determinedly looked elsewhere. Their silence flourished, but she broke it before it became awkward. He was beginning to suspect that she disliked silence.

"I had a question, Arnav-ji ... I don't know who to ask."

"Ask."

"Where's ... uhh ... where's Anjali-ji's husband?"

"No one told you?" Arnav frowned, "Aman's in the US, setting up our Chicago office. He calls Di every day."

"Jija-ji," Khushi corrected, "You shouldn't call him by his name."

"Aman. It's a long story, I'll tell you another time. Or you can ask Di."

"The other night, I heard you ..." she trailed off, her eyes opening wider as she realized what she'd revealed.

He smirked, enjoying her distress, "I'm an atheist who doesn't smile?"

"Awwww," she shoved at him, "You were awake!"

Khushi marched ahead, arms crossed, huffing as she muttered under her breath. He grinned at her when she glanced back. She increased her pace. His shoulders shook as he tried to contain his mirth, and then laughter burst out of him, ringing in the moonlit silence.

"You laugh?" Khushi turned, gaping at him in disbelief.

Her expression - eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect O - only made him laugh harder. She rushed ahead, glancing back as she stepped into the restaurant, and he watched her rejoin their siblings through the glass windows. He followed slowly, stopping by the counter to pay their bill before signalling to Aakash to meet him at the car.

Khushi's eyes met his in the mirror as he drove to Laxmi Nagar. His pulse quickened when she winked.

And later, as he lay down to sleep, his phone chimed with a text.

Good night, Arnav-ji.

Something akin to hope swelled within him.