Chapter 16: Arnav

He hadn't seen or heard from Khushi in four days, since he'd left her at the markets.

And really, it was for the best.

I know I'm not marrying her. But ... why do I keep acting as though I will?

He'd had thrown himself into work, focussing on contracts, meetings, and deals in a futile attempt to dismiss his inexplicable behaviour. His mind, when it wasn't distracted, had taken to tormenting him with recollections of her smile. He'd pulled out his phone and scrolled through her messages countless times in between meetings, smiling at her jokes and crazy observations before catching himself. Her pink pom-pom burnt a hole in his pocket.

Aware that the college semester had started, Arnav had kept his distance, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for a rejection from her father. But he wondered at the delay.

Has she told them about my girlfriends? Perhaps her father is willing to overlook my shortcomings, believing my wealth to be ample compensation.

Or has she kept silent, afraid of the consequences? Six failed alliances will not endear her to suitors.

The melancholy that had accompanied him for the last few days grew heavier at the thought of a seventh suitor, but Arnav dismissed it as he climbed the steps to his home. It was late, and he needed a coffee.

There was a squeal of delight as he pressed the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Nani and Di, wearing identical grins. Nani took his aarti at the door.

"Nani! What are you doing?"

"I have to ward off the evil eye, son," she explained.

"What the-?"

Di dragged him inside by the arm, "We have some great news, Chhote, come and sit down!"

Mama, Mami, and Aakash looked up expectantly as Di led him into the sitting area.

"Uhh ... are you all okay?"

"Hello, hi, bye-bye. He's asking if we is phine."

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" his patience frayed.

"Shashi Gupta called an hour ago," Nani began, and Arnav felt a tightening in his chest, "Khushi-bitiya said yes."

He heard the words dimly, as if they'd echoed to him through a long, dark tunnel.

"Khushi ... said ... yes?" he repeated softly.

"Chhote, you like her too, don't you?" Di asked eagerly, "Should we call and confirm? We can organize the Shagun for tomorrow evening, and hold the engagement next week."

"No."

"Wh-what?"

"No one's organizing anything," Arnav spat, "There won't be any wedding."

"But Bhai ..."

"I said it once, Aakash. I won't repeat myself."

"Chhote," Nani's voice rose, "why are you refusing her? What possible reason could you have? You've met her so many times, and Anjali and Aakash tell me that you get along."

The problem was never Khushi.

Arnav closed his eyes at the bitter reminder of what he felt for her and how deeply he wanted her in his life. But he couldn't – wouldn't – trap Khushi by tying her down. She needed to be free to leave him if she ever wanted to.

I'm not exactly husband material.

"Chhote, please talk to us," implored Di, "tell us what's wrong."

He looked into his sister's eyes, so like their mother's, and willed himself to stay strong.

"Arnav-bitwa is correct," grinned Mami, "our foreign-returned son can't marry some girl from a poor-house. We'll find him a more suitable girl. Rich and beautiphool."

Burning with rage, he started to correct her before realising that defending Khushi would rip through his façade.

"There won't be any wedding," he announced instead, "not now, not ever. Not to Khushi, or any other girl you find."

Ignoring his sister's pleas to stay, Arnav stormed out of the house. He drove recklessly to the farmhouse, weaving his car in and out of traffic.

"My Chhote will make the most handsome groom. But we'll have to take care; his bride will refuse to come to the altar if she realises how grumpy he is!"

Memories of his mother surfaced as he neared his destination. She'd loved to talk about his bride - the woman who would one day brighten their lives with just her smile - especially in the days leading up to Di's wedding.

"How can you be this messy, Chhote?" she'd sighed, "Your bride will think I raised a slob!"

Even today, he kept his bedroom, his home, and his office immaculate, a part of him unwilling to disappoint his mother with unnecessary untidiness.

"And what will my bahu think when she sees your untucked shirt?" she'd asked, "You look like a ruffian."

Even today, he never stepped out of his house in anything less than a formal suit. His shirt was always tucked in.

Later, as he lay on a white bench, staring up at the stars, he wondered what his mother would say if she could see him. He felt closer to her here, in the garden she'd lovingly planned, planted and maintained, than he did anywhere else.

"Mamma," he whispered to the stars as he toyed with small pink ball, "I don't know what to do."

Perhaps Khushi's parents spoke back to her but Mamma remained silent.

Hours passed.

When he turned to leave, ambling to his car on reluctant feet, he found a single red rose waiting for him on his windshield, carried there by the fitful breeze. Khushi's favourite flower, and his own. Mamma had planted them everywhere, smiling to herself as she claimed the flowers were the brightest things in her life aside from the two of them. Now, almost twenty years later, Arnav understood what she'd meant. Rathna Raizada Malik had been deeply unhappy in her marriage. His father's adultery had been the last in a string of injustices she'd suffered.

The rose joined Khushi's pom-pom in his pocket.

Arnav entered the house silently, using the light from his phone as a makeshift torch as he navigated the stairs. He paused at his door, distracted from his gloom by a light coming across the hallway.

"Di?" he knocked on her door.

"Chhote? Come in."

His sister sat in the middle of her bed, lit by her bedside lamp. She moved her book and iPad and indicated that he sit in the space she'd created.

"Did you go to the farmhouse?"

Arnav nodded, not needing to explain that he hadn't even stepped inside their mother's childhood home. Di understood where he went, and why he went.

"Talk to me, Chhote. Tell me what's going through that mind of yours."

He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to put what he felt into words.

"Mamma was so unhappy with our father," he began cautiously, "she might ... she could've left him if we weren't in the picture."

"She would've stayed no matter what. She believed in her marriage vows."

"She shouldn't have made those vows. She could have found happiness with someone else."

He felt Di take his hand.

"Chhote, you were so young when they died, right at that age when you started to think seriously about relationships. Of course it's coloured the way you approach these things ... but ... you really don't see the beauty of marriage? The promise of commitment, of support, of lifelong friendship and love?"

He grimaced at the mention of love but didn't open his eyes. "I was fifteen when I first overheard people wondering if I was like him. They said that treachery was in his blood and that I was doomed to repeat his mistakes."

"Don't you trust yourself, Chhote?"

Arnav scoffed, "I will never be like him, Di. Never."

"Then ... You don't trust Khushi-ji?"

"I've met her four times," he pointed out, "Trust doesn't even factor into this."

"I know her. She would never-"

"-And it was stamped on our father's forehead? That he would ..." he inhaled sharply, trying to bury the bitter rage that swelled within him, "Mamma thought she knew him too."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Khushi's smiling face swam against his eyelids.

"I can give Khushi everything without marriage, Di," Arnav said softly, "I can commit to her for the rest of my life."

"Live-in?" Di was incredulous, "You're suggesting live-in with Khushi-ji?"

"No," he fought a wave of despair, "She only thinks she wants me. All she sees, all her family sees, is what we've allowed them to see."

By the time she realises there's nothing behind this shell of a man, it'll be too late.

"Then tell her everything," Di urged.

Impossible.

"She's innocent," he directed his words to the ceiling, "And I'm broken. She's probably dreamt of Shah Rukh Khan on a white horse since she was a child."

"Salman Khan. Khushi-ji fancies Salman Khan."

He smiled into the silence that followed, warmth spreading through him.

"You've told me about your girlfriends," Di's voice was soft, "but you've never spoken about commitment. Not like this. It's always just been you, the apartment you keep, and the overnight business meetings in Agra."

"Di ... I ..."

"You're a grown man," she paused, "I didn't understand at first, but I think I understand now. If you thought you weren't getting married, why would you ..."

"Khushi won't understand."

"Mmmm. Leave Khushi-ji to me, Chhote."

"She said yes," Arnav couldn't keep the wonder out of his tone, "despite everything."

"Of course she said yes! My Chhote is perfect for her."

He swatted his sister's hands away as she tried to poke him in the stomach. "Di!"

They fought like children, Di's giggles threatening to wake the entire household. When he stole her book, she confiscated his phone. He threatened to throw her iPad into the wall but gave it back when she mused, out loud, about how he'd fare if she lit a mosquito coil in his room as he slept.

Damned allergies.

"I'm going to miss this," she sighed, handing him his phone.

He checked discreetly for a message from Khushi. Nothing.

"I'll visit you every chance I get," he promised rashly, his heart constricting.

"You'll be settling into your new life with Khushi-ji," she said confidently, "and I'll be exploring a new country."

"You'll love Chicago, Di."

"I don't care about Chicago right now, Chhote. I miss my husband."

Di's smile slipped as she looked at the wedding photo on the wall.

"I'm sorry, Di," Arnav pulled her into a hug.

"Shhh! You didn't send him away. He volunteered to go, despite all your protests," she smiled through a sob, "Idiot man."

Arnav gave a short laugh as he handed her a tissue. "I'm telling him you said that."

"He won't believe you," Di looked at her wedding photo again, "Chhote, why did you say yes when Aman-ji asked if he could marry me?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"I mean ... why didn't you suggest that we live together without marriage? So I wasn't trapped ..."

"You love Aman."

"That's not an answer."

"Di, stop being ridiculous. People would've said things behind your back. To your face, even. They'd gossip about you, say things ... and when you and Aman had kids, they'd say they were born out of wedlock," Arnav shivered at the thought.

"You like Khushi-ji, you can commit to her, but she ... she doesn't deserve that consideration?" Di asked quietly.