Chapter 30: Arnav

The wind screamed in his ears.

His left hand worked the clutch as he changed gears with his left foot, and the engine responded instantly. He leaned into a turn, adjusting the brake with his right foot as he shifted his weight slightly to compensate for the change in centre of gravity. The motorcycle tilted precariously, bringing the tarred surface of the road so close that he could reach out and touch it.

Then he straightened out, staring through his helmet at the two kilometre stretch of perfectly straight road ahead.

Heaven.

He changed gears again, relishing the roar of of the engine as the bike picked up speed. Fast, and then faster, until everything was a blur. His body and mind entered that unique state of hyperawareness he associated with this method of transport – his thoughts raced, considering everything from the wind speed to the slickness of the road to the likelihood of another vehicle approaching from the other direction. His muscles reacted to every bump in the road, every pothole and obstruction he avoided by weaving left and right. He was aware of everything.

A heady sense of power came over him. There was nothing he relished more than this, the feeling of being able to bend even physics to his will with the power of two hundred horses beneath him.

It was better than sex.

Almost.

Arnav couldn't stop a grin as he slowed the bike down to a more reasonable speed, making a series of familiar turns to rejoin Delhi traffic. He headed towards Laxmi Nagar, his pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Khushi.

I wonder how she'll like the bike.

He imagined her mouth falling open in shock as she took in his dark jeans, long sleeved T-shirt and black leather jacket. His mind was instantly diverted, imagining the feel of her as she pressed against his back, her hands around his waist and her legs astride the bike. His body threatened to ignite.

Four more months, Arnav.

He squealed to a stop in front of her house, taking a moment to lower the kickstand before taking his foot of the brake. He slid off the helmet and ran a hand through his hair. Khushi had pointed out that it needed a trim last week, but he still hadn't gotten around to it. Arnav swung his leg over and stowed the helmet before making his way to her door. He paused, looking down at himself, and grinned.

I look like a troublemaker of the worst kind.

"He's here!" Khushi's voice rang out at his knock, "Babu-ji, I'll be back before ten as usual."

He tried to pat down his hair as he waited. Her family had been reluctant to allow unchaperoned meetings in the evenings, even after their engagement, but Nani and Di had managed to convince them to allow it. There was a never-ending list of rules, including a strict curfew that he found stifling, but it was better than not seeing her outside of the family gatherings Di organised.

Khushi rushed outside, barely sparing him a glance as she shut the door behind her.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was cooking for Amma and then Bua-ji wanted ..." she trailed off as she turned.

"Hi."

Her mouth fell open as her gaze raked over him. "What are you wearing?"

"I have a surprise for you," Arnav took her hand, "I think you'll like it."

Khushi gave him a tentative smile as she allowed him to lead her off the verandah. He felt a tug on his hand as they approached the bike, and turned around to find that she'd frozen.

"Relax," he soothed, "I'll take care of you."

He took a few steps towards her, intending to hold her, but she took two steps back.

"Khushi?" he asked, realizing something was wrong.

"I ... I c-can't."

He glanced at the bike, "It's fine. I have a helmet for you, and I'll go slowly. Don't you trust me?"

To his utter bewilderment, she shook her head. His ever-present anger solidified as she took another step backwards, trying to get away.

"Khushi, what the hell? You don't trust me to take care of you?"

He only realised she was crying when the light from the verandah hit her face. A memory slammed into him at the sight – "My parents died in an accident when I was eight."

Damn it.

Arnav pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against him as he cursed himself for not seeing her distress sooner.

"Ssshhhh," he soothed clumsily.

Khushi hiccupped, huddling even closer. He looked around, noting with a grimace that some of her neighbours were standing at their windows and doors, staring at them as they embraced.

Damn it.

"Come," he led her to the wicker outdoor furniture on her verandah, "Sit."

He sat with her, feeling hopeless, useless.

"I was eight years old when my Amma and Babu-ji died in an accident," her voice trembled, pitched so low that he had to strain to hear it.

"I remember," Arnav reached for her, "You told me once."

He wrapped his arms around her. Khushi turned into his shoulder, mumbling her words.

"I didn't ... I didn't know what it meant, that they'd ... they'd died. I thought ... I thought they'd gone somewhere. That they'd come back."

He blinked back tears. His parents had died when he was fourteen, and Di eighteen, but they'd both understood what had happened. In the beginning, there had been moments where he'd wished he'd been younger, that he'd been able to hold on to his innocence. But now his heart broke as he considered Khushi's plight, forced to live with her uncle and aunt without understanding why her parents had abandoned her.

"I believe they've become stars, so I sleep with stars hanging above my bed," she continued, "I'm still afraid of fast cars. I'm afraid of sleeping alone. I'm afraid of the dark."

Arnav let her snuggle closer, uncaring now of the eyes still on them.

"Khushi," he stroked her hair, "I understand. You won't be alone, I promise. I'll always be with you."

"Now you know everything about me, Arnav-ji."

He wondered if he'd ever have the courage to confide in her, to relive the horrors of that night and admit to the tragedy that had shaped so many lives. He wondered if she'd change her mind about marrying him if she knew the hideous truth.

I can't risk it, he told her silently, I love you too much to let you go.

As usual, something held him back, refusing to allow the words to form on his tongue.

"Thank you," he said instead, "Your trust means a lot to me."

"Would you ..." Khushi sat up, fiddling with her dupatta as she avoided his eyes, "Would you like to me-meet ... meet them?"

His heart seemed to still. "Khushi ..."

"Come."

She led him by the hand to the small courtyard area alongside the house, where she ensured he was comfortable on the divan before perching on its edge. A small smile, and then she was pointing up to the clear night sky. Two stars seemed to twinkle a little brighter.

"My heart tells me that that star is my Amma, and the one next to her is my Babu-ji."

Arnav thought of Mamma, of her smile and her fragrance and her hand on his forehead. He swallowed hard.

"They're always watching over me," Khushi continued, "Always twinkling and always smiling."

Mamma's hands on his as she taught him bury seeds in soil.

Her pout when she called him "grumpy."

Her laughter.

Her tears.

"Do they truly become stars?"

The words rolled off his tongue quicker than he could snatch them back and he waited with bated breath for her response.

Her words, when they came, were a soft tremble in the silence. "It's not about truth or falsehood, it's about faith."

She shifted until she could rest her head on his shoulder and twined their fingers together in her lap. Her breaths were even and soft against neck.

Is Mamma happy when she sees me? Is she proud of me?

But the questions got lost somewhere on the way to his mouth.

And perhaps that was for the best.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading :) The scene with Arnav on a motorbike is the first scene that popped into my head for RISHTAA. It was such a powerful scene that I spent a lot of time wondering what he was doing, where he was going, and why. RISHTAA formed itself over a year around this scene, so I'm glad that I've finally shared it.

I wanted to say a few words. RISHTAA is the story of two families. It always has been. There will chapters where Khushi and Arnav are not with each other, and chapters that do not feature their romance, and chapters that focus on other storylines. As in the serial, there will also be what people refer to as "filler" chapters. These chapters are necessary because they set up the next track or arc. Stories sometimes need slower chapters to allow for character introspection and growth, but that doesn't mean that important things aren't happening. The seeds for the next track have been laid and I hope you enjoy what unfolds next.