Chapter 14: Arnav

"Someone will see us."

"There's no one here, Khushi."

He traced his fingers across her cheekbone, drawing her attention back where it belonged – on him. She leaned against his car, trembling in his jacket as he caressed her lips with his thumb.

Her eyes fluttered closed. "Arnav ..."

"Ssshhh," he soothed.

Using two fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his. He heard her sharp, short inhalations as he bent his head, intent on her lips.

Arnav's eyes snapped open at a series of shrill beeps from his phone.

Damn.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to recapture the feeling of having her so close, but the dream faded fast. Sighing, he reached for his phone and cleared the alarm before sliding out of bed. Last night, the thought of meeting Khushi alone had been tempting enough for him to shift a morning meeting, but now he wondered if it was wise.

When a jog and a quick shower failed to provide an alternative plan, he picked up his phone to cancel on her.

I need distance.

"Chhote?"

Arnav glanced up, slipping the phone into his pocket. Di stood at the door, smiling as she fiddled with her favourite green sari. It was one of the first things AR Designs had made, an exclusive piece he'd sketched himself. He snatched his cravat from the bed as she approached.

"I have to talk to you."

"Di, I'm running a little late, can it wait?" he asked, knotting the cravat with practised ease.

"No it can't. Nani called Khushi-ji's parents last night."

His hands froze, "Why?"

"She thought they might be hesitating, afraid that we'd ask for a dowry."

"What nonsense," he turned to fish his waistcoat out of the wardrobe.

"You like her, don't you Chhote?"

I burn for her.

"When are you going to say yes?" his sister prodded.

Never.

Arnav released an exasperated sigh as he turned, "Di, seriously? I don't even know her. This is all nonsense anyway."

She smiled indulgently as she placed a hand to his cheek. Her four foot Chhote had grown to six feet but this gesture hadn't changed.

"You know ... I was the only one in the room when you said your first word. You can't hide anything from me. You like Khushi-ji."

"It's not like that, Di," Arnav rolled his eyes.

"You'll see. One day, a girl will become your whole world. You won't even know when—"

"—Yeah, yeah," he interrupted the beginnings of her rant, "I won't be able to breathe without her. Sounds like weakness to me."

"Be careful, or she'll slip through your fingers like sand."

There was a tightening in his chest as his mind played it out - never seeing Khushi again, never hearing her take his name, never holding her hand in his. Khushi clad in another man's jacket, trembling as he bent to kiss her. He recoiled from the thought, bile rising at the back of his throat.

"Chhote?"

Arnav glared at his sister, pulse thundering in his ears as he battled a rising tide of emotion.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Get a grip, Arnav.

He took two deep breaths. "Yeah, I think I just need to eat."

"Come downstairs, breakfast is ready," Di didn't look convinced.

He followed her to the door, locking it behind her before sagging against it. His eyes closed as something unravelled inside him.

One more time. Just this last time, to work her out of my system. To drink my fill of her eyes and smile.

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .

Arnav parked his car on the crowded streets and battled his way into the Sarojini Nagar Markets. He found Khushi after a few minutes of searching - she'd asked him to meet her at the channa stall but hadn't mentioned which one. She twisted the strap of her bag as she scanned the crowd, the reds and yellows of the cloth clashing astonishingly with the green and pink of her salwaar suit.

I love all bright colours, the brighter the better, he recalled her words as he approached.

Greeting him with a small smile, Khushi led him to a small eatery tucked away in a corner, ordering two chais and a plate of samosas before sitting at a table at the back. Arnav ignored her mumbled protests and paid for the food when it arrived, and then they sat in silence, acutely aware that their families wouldn't approve of this unsanctioned, unchaperoned meeting.

Be careful, or she'll slip through your fingers like sand.

Arnav took in the tightness around her mouth and the frown that refused to disappear. "Khushi, is everything okay?"

She shook her head.

"Khushi? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I want to ask you some questions," she directed her words to the table, "but they're personal."

"Ask them."

His eyes followed her fingers as she traced the design printed onto the tabletop.

"Do ... do you think we're co-compatible?" she asked after several heartbeats.

Arnav took a moment to compose his answer, unwilling to lie but unable to let her go by revealing the truth.

"There's certainly something between us. Something that wasn't there with the other women I met."

"Were there a ... a l-lot of w-women?"

A fierce protectiveness swelled inside him at the tremble in her voice, pushing him towards honesty despite the instincts that urged otherwise.

"I met four before you. I didn't feel a connection to any of them."

"There were five men before you," Khushi revealed.

Jealousy flared, catching him by surprise. Five other men had stared at her, had drunk tea made by her delicate hands and taken in the brightness of her smile and the spark in her eyes. His fingers curled into a fist. Five other men could've dreamt of her as he did every night.

"Were there oth-others?" she asked quietly, "When you were studying overseas? Or after?"

He realised, all at once, what was happening. Khushi had moved beyond the thrill of the undeniable attraction between them and was concentrating on their future. She was finally asking the questions she needed to ask.

This is the beginning of the end.

"There have been three," Arnav answered, his eyes roving over her in an attempt to memorise every detail, "Sheetal in college, Lisa when I returned to India, then Lavanya. I broke it off with Lavanya over a year ago."

Khushi nodded, having apparently expected that response, and somehow, her acceptance hurt him more than her tears or anger would have. He braced himself for the inevitable follow-up about intimacy, dreading telling her that he'd been intimate with some of them, but she surprised him by moving on.

"You're never going to be religious, are you?"

"I lost my faith a long time ago. I don't want it back."

"Your mother?"

Arnav looked away from her, unease rippling along his skin because she – this vibrant girl from Lucknow with a smile that haunted his nights –had read him so easily. The urge to flee grew stronger, until he wanted nothing more than to leave her sitting here with her probing questions and too-astute observations.

But this situation is not of her making. I owe her this much.

And I need her to say no.

"Next question," he softened the warning by twisting his mouth into something resembling a smile.

She nodded. There were a few minutes of strained silence, in which her eyes met his before darting away, only to return seconds later. His heart soared when he realised that she was addicted to him as he was to her.

"Why are you opting for an arranged marriage?" Khushi mumbled her next question, "I wouldn't have expected it. You're foreign educated and modern."

"Nani can be ... forceful," Arnav sidestepped the issue of his stance on marriage, "She wants me to marry before Aakash and I'm too busy to look myself."

"Did you want to meet me?"

"Yes," he reassured her, "I picked the girls I met myself."

"I didn't want to meet you at first," she confessed, "The differences in the wealth and class of our families were too much. But Nirmala-Aunty was insistent. She said that your family was eager to discuss things, that you didn't care about any of that. Plus, your Nani is a respected figure in our society. I'm ... I'm glad I changed my mind."

She blushed prettily as she finished the last of her tea. Warmth spread through him at the sight.

"Any more questions?"

"N-no."

"I'll drive you home," he offered, standing.

"No, Jiji came to the markets with me. We'll go home together."

"I'll help you look for her."

Khushi stuck close to him as they navigated the narrow streets, gushing about her sister's fiancé and the upcoming wedding. To hear her tell it, "Abhishek-ji" had hung the moon.

"What's his surname?" Arnav interrupted her besotted rant.

"Bachchan."

"What the-?" he halted, turning to look at her.

She smiled mischievously before giggling, "Got you! Varma. Abhishek Varma."

One corner of his mouth tilted up in amusement.

Khushi suddenly pitched forward, shoved unceremoniously towards him as a man barrelled past. Arnav caught her on instinct, his hands on her shoulders as he steadied her. Air hitched in his lungs as she blinked up at him, her cheeks and nose red.

Damn, she's beautiful.

This is the last time I'll see her.

The realisation was like a kick to his stomach. He released her reluctantly, his fingers trailing down her arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Nodding, Khushi straightened her dupatta without meeting his eyes. She then stood on tip toe to scan the crowd, clutching his arm for balance.

"I see Jiji!" she waved energetically, "Let's go."

She led the way in silence, and his mind ticked over as he tried to fathom her sudden quiet. When they reached her, Payal looked between them, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked Khushi.

Khushi nodded, smiling, before turning to him, "We have to go home now, or they'll ask where we were. Bye, Arnav-ji."

He nodded. She gave a small wave as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he uncurled his fingers to reveal a small, pink pom-pom in his palm, torn stealthily from her sleeve.

"Bye Khushi," he whispered.