Chapter 15
4:01 AM
It appeared to Khushi that she probably wasn’t a normal woman. As she rifled through her wardrobe trying to decide in the early hours of the morning on what to wear, instead of focusing on the earth shaking conversation with the man sleeping across the hall, it had seemed to be a very natural observation too. The source of her malcontent had come home and, after having distractedly brushed his lips on her forehead, had carried the damned dog and gone off to his room where man and dog had fallen asleep soon after, limbs and paws tangled. Instead of worrying about what to say that can negate what last night had wrought, here she stood searching madly through her wardrobe for something to wear - as if it was the most important thing in her life. As if her life depended on it. Why did it feel like as if it did then? She shook her head and pulled out the perfect dress. A vintage inspired shift silhouette with delicate white lace. The Alice by Temperley Kitty Lace Dress had Ivory floral lace with scalloped, eyelash fringe trim; golden satin underlay, Mandarin collar, three quarter lace sleeves, slim bodice and an A-line skirt that fell to her knees. As she slipped on her delicately filigreed Roberto Coin Bollicine Diamond Cuff, A pair of Marco Bicego Jaipur Topaz Stud Earrings in the palest shade somewhere in between lavender and blue. Then she picked up a pin. A whimsy. Then again, not really. An Oscar de la Renta pin of solid brushed and textured gold, shaped liked Oak Leaves. In the language of flowers, they signified courage. Khushi hadn’t known until her had told her, while pinning it on her simple top. He had given them to her when she had first started college; a snooty affair with spoilt rich kids - or so it had seemed to a terrified Khushi Kumari Gupta at that time when wealth had just started coming in. A world more suited to him than her but he had given it to her on the first day, telling her the meaning. Courage, he had said, in his own quiet way, meant not letting fear stand in the way of glory. She had never forgotten it. This was a brooch she only wore when she was dire need of an infusion of courage. Today seemed to be the day for it, she thought, pinning it on her bodice. If she went down in flame, she thought, slipping on a pair of cream Nina Ricci lace cut out, crystal detailed pumps, she was going down looking like a million bucks, she smiled, slicking on a peony pink tint on her lips. Twirling her fingers slicked with the same shade on her elegantly oval nails. Time to face the music she thought, tapping on the side of her mouth unconsciously. As her heartbeat raced, she knew... it would be... It would have to be right after she made breakfast.
She slipped on a cooking apron, an incongruity over her glad rags, she knew it but her apron too was new - something NK had parcelled to her to cheer her up on a rainy day. As far as Khushi was concerned, it was pouring today. It was tomato red with a dark silhouette of a exceedingly curvaceous woman bent down to her waist, finger in her pouting mouth, with the words, “Dear Santa, define Naughty” emblazoned on it. Khushi had loved it on sight. As she made Potato Crust Quiche, Blueberry Pancakes and Sour Cream Cinnamon for the man blissfully sleeping across the hall, Khushi discovered to her horror - her mind was still blank. Cooking has always helped her sort things out in her head. How had it come to fail her at such a.... point, yes... such a point in her life? She heard him stirring across the hall, the morning rituals. Was he stretching that beautifully sleek runner’s body, as he always did? Blinking disorientedly, as he waited for his brain to catch up with his body? He was always at his most vulnerable when he had just woken up, she thought affectionately. A sleepy yawn, before he went off to clean up. The puppy... they really had to find a name for it - was yelping joyously. Yes, they had to get some supplies for it as well. She heard him talk to the dog, voice low but the affection in it was obvious. A sharp round of barks. Did he just yelp? He would have a killer hangover, she knew, taking out a bottle of vitamin C tablets. A firm believer of the hair of the dog remedy, Khushi decided to whip up some frosty mimosa. With Passion fruit, she thought, a flashing smile. Inspired. She took out a carton of Passion fruit Juice that they had bought in their last visit for groceries. A bottle of champagne, didn’t they have a sweet icy Moet Star? They got time off so rarely, she thought with a small smile, cooking on Saturdays felt like celebrations. Although this one in particular... she gulped. As she arranged the table with the steaming food, and had just poured the champagne and the juice over the ice in the two flutes, he had made his appearance carrying the black puppy with white splotches in his well corded, sleekly muscled arms. In a pair of ratty grey sweatpants and a faded blue t-shirt, he looked so... Khushi flushed and looked away, garnishing the glasses with slivered strawberries. She could feel him staring at her. Intensely. What was she supposed to say to him now?
He sauntered in, slowly like he had all the time in the world, the puppy adoringly following after him with a litany of barks. “Good morning,” he said hoarsely, “All that for me?” and then, Arnav Singh Raizada smiled that smile - the kind that made her heart turn over. A smile so few had been fortunate enough to witness and flopped down, reaching for the Vitamin C tablets which he downed with the mimosa. “Goddess,” he smiled. “I like your apron Khushi,” he smiled again. “Is it new?” Khushi nodded mutely, anger brewing, she added rebelliously, “NK sent it to me the other day,” and smiled inwardly. Waited for the controlled explosion. Signs of anger being contained. There were none. “Did he? Your boyfriend’s got funny taste in apron. I like it,” he said lightly, shovelling down the blueberry pancakes with savoury bites of the potato quiche in between. “Won’t you eat?” Khushi had no appetite. She had lost it. What was happening here? What was wrong with Arnav? She still sat down. Was this a game? Well ASR, I can play yours too, she thought grinding her teeth. She learned it from the best after all. Baring her teeth in the semblance of a smile, she started tucking away her share of the food, which was rebelling in her already unsteady, nervous stomach. He took a sour cream cinnamon roll on his plate and started digging into it. “You look beautiful Khush. Very chic. Very vogue. Are we expecting guests? Is NK dropping in?” and carelessly took a sip of the mimosa. Who was he, she stared. What had he done to her Arnav? She smiled politely, heart not in it. “Arnav,” she took a gulp of her own drink, feeling the bubbling sweetness go down. Irish courage, she thought sardonically. “We need to talk about last night,” he looked up at her then and smiled guilelessly. “Yeah Khush? I’m listening?” and took another bite of the sour cream cinnamon roll. Didn’t he remember? She thought, dreading the conversation but what was right was right. She had to tell him what had happened. It was only... right. “Arnav, you kissed me last night,” she said in one breath, holding it in, waiting for his reaction. What would he do? How upset would he be with himself. That poor man! That... Instead, he finished chewing the piece of cinnamon roll already in his mouth. How proper, the snide voice in her head sneered. “Khushi,” he swallowed, “That wasn’t a kiss sweetheart. That was just a peck. I was drunk and these things happen,” he shrugged and bit into the pastry again. “It was nothing. If it’s Singhaniya that’s bothering you, I’ll explain it to him. He’ll understand,” He laughingly took another bite, chewed and swallowed again. “It was nothing,” he repeated, laughing again. “Nothing to get worked up over, now why don’t you come and meet the newest member of our family?” He reached around and pulled the ecstatic puppy towards him. “Meet Perseus, shortened to Percy!”
Khushi held the puppy. Her voice silenced. There was a lump of hot glass in her throat, steadily going down. Burning. It hurt. There was a storm building in her chest and her eyes burned. Nothing. Tears struggling against her composure to break through. “Hi Percy!” she said in a sing songy voice, struggling to maintain her composure. Struggling to not break down and bawl like a child. “Nice to meet you. You master seems to have named you after a Greek hero, I wonder why?” Arnav who had finished eating by then; laughed as he washed his hands, and called the help to come upstairs on the intercom to come clean up. “Maybe because he’s one of the few Hellenic heroes to get the girl? I don’t know. He appealed to me,” Arnav shrugged, laughing. “So few do in real life,” and reached out to Percy and held him, “Come on buddy, we have to leave the pretty lady to enjoy her day off and shop for some stuff for you,” He looked towards Khushi, who had miraculously still maintained her outward calm. “See you later tonight?” he smiled prettily. Arnav didn’t wait for an answer, he was already googling on his phone, the best place to shop for pets in Mumbai perhaps, she thought as he walked towards his door, Perseus following closely at his heels. She heard noises and then saw a dressed down Arnav in a green and black buttoned down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of sunglasses hooked into his collar; his concession to the burning sun in Mumbai, grey jeans with Percy in his arms as he waved her goodbye, all the while busily chatting on the phone. He left.
The apartment eerily quiet afterwards and Khushi burst into loud, hot, painful tears that scalded her cheeks when the rained down. She knew what had happened. Had seen it often enough from the other side - Arnav had politely sidelined her as he usually did his ladies once he grew tired of them. Khushi resolutely wiped her tears, the hot torrents that refused to stop pouring. FUCK YOU ASR! She thought furiously as salty tears poured out off from her steaming, aching eyes. Bloodshot.Heat flushing her cheeks, lips pressed tight to hold in animal moans of pain. She unconsciously clutched at her aching heart. You want to play games? Let me teach you how it is done this time, she raged. She had loved him, she thought, as tears continued to fall. She loved him! Still loved him. That he didn’t reciprocate the feelings was okay with her. She dealt with it for weeks - months but to be treated like this by him. To be treated like one of those women he sent away so cleverly the morning after a one night stand... For him to treat her like that. Like that. After all they had shared - all they had together. A family. A home. What did he expect she would demand of him? How could he do this to her? It had, to her, felt like the ultimate betrayal. The proverbial knife in her back all because he couldn’t hold his drink. He hadn’t been able to control his curiosity and now, she was the lamb to be sacrificed at the altar of his coldness. For the first time Khushi Kumari Gupta understood just why those women had at one time or the other smilingly referred to Arnav Singh Raizada as the bastard, even if it was done somewhat wistfully. She finally understood that his bluer than Danube blood with impeccable bloodline and married parents had nothing to do with it. She felt rage flow through her bloodstream, burning away everything else in it’s path and if the heady feelings of a woman scorned craving vengeance stirred in her - she didn’t realize it. One rarely did when they were in such a position. More so when they were absolute novices in such a game where the opponent is a master. Or maybe she did. It was as if Arnav Singh Raizada’s love for Hellenic Literature had brought about the rebirth of Adrestia inside Khushi Kumari Gupta. Adrestia- The Greek goddess of Vengeance. She picked up her phone and dialled, wiping her eyes for the last time.
Arnav drove on. He knew of a pet store at the Hughes Road and he could have gone there easily enough, even with Percy yapping next to him but last night kept coming back to him like a nightmare on loop. He wasn’t drunk. Well, he had been. Of course he had been, Arnav smiled. He was hardly Superman that Glenfiddich wouldn’t have knocked out his sense some but... He closed his eyes and sighed. Opened. Kept driving on. When their lips met. The charge that went through him. Arnav sighed again. He had been stone cold sober when he had been kissing her. Would have kept on kissing her had she not stepped away from him. Reminding of the barriers. The obligations. The trust he had broken. Khushi had been a good sport about it. Poor girl, he thought, heart heavy. She had once thought that she was in love with him. Arnav had paid no mind to it and like a child’s crush - she had gotten over it. Moved on. With NK Singhaniya. He drew in a shuddery breath. That apron... He closed his eyes, tight, and pulled the SUV to the side of the road, too shaken to drive. He had felt like ripping it off! This morning she had looked so beautiful.. so worried when she had made him breakfast! She had even worn her courage pin. He smiled gently at the thought of that. Did she think that he wouldn’t notice? Last night, he twisted his lips, he probably drove home the fact why he wasn’t a good bet for her. He wasn’t. He closed his eyes, throat clogging mysteriously. He just wasn’t for her. Even if she was... He shook his head. Those were musings that were probably best left deep inside some closet inside his twisted mind. He didn’t have time to analyze them. So, he had played at being drunk, kissed her on the head when he had gotten home and taken Percy off to bed. All night he had thought until around 4 his analytical mind had come to the conclusion that Singhaniya was the best thing for her. Arnav had, he thought with a wry smile - always had tried giving her what was the best thing for her, so why stop now? Even if it killed him, he thought with a sigh, driving towards Hughes Road again, having steadied himself. Even if it did. The play acting was killing him. That kiss... He closed his eyes. It had meant more than she would know. Would ever know. But, he smiled toothily, that was just the luck of the draw. You didn’t do bad bets. That’s why he was who he was. He didn’t. He recognized bad bets at the Stock Exchange a mile away. Bad bets. He laughed. Arnav Singh Raizada was one - Khushi Kumari Gupta didn’t know it but he did. He had always protected her. For the last time he would protect her again; this time - from himself. Percy looked at him with chiding eyes, big, wide and whiskey coloured. As if to say, you can try pal... you can try... Arnav laughed. “I most certainly will,” he said to the little pup as he unclipped his seat belt causing him to bark ecstatically, as they drew in front of the store, “and you Perseus, will keep my secrets. Or no treats for you!”.
Anjali was shocked, there was no other word for it. Whatever else he may have been for the entire eleven years of their marriage- he had always been in control. But tonight, when she had opened the door to the house after hours of being miserably worried for him and wishing that she could admonish him for his behavior, she had come face to face with someone she had never expected him to be. Vulnerable. He had come in after she had opened the door, staring at him- shocked as she was- and he had smiled at her, almost sheepishly. Anjali didn’t know what to feel anymore. It was there- it was still all there. The beautifully- almost poetically handsome face lighting up with that beautiful lop-sided smile. The warm inky black eyes shining at her- drawing her in. His coal black hair now with a few lines of grey marring them- making him look even more handsome, flopping carelessly onto his forehead. Her breath had caught- and then her heart had sped up. This smile had been more beautiful- more fulfilling than any other he had ever bestowed upon her. This one, she knew, she would always remember, cherish for the rest of her life. She would pray, she knew, that her child would have that beautiful smile- that impeccable personality of their Father- that poetic voice, slightly husky and yet more beautiful than any song she had ever heard. She shook her head at herself ruefully- so deeply in love and yet, so far away. So, so far away.
Her husband, apparently took that one shake of her head for something else entirely. For she was surprised as he stumbled towards her- his eyes for the first time betraying a plethora of emotions. Was that... was that guilt? Shame? She backed up a step, as he stumbled another forward- her eyes widening involuntarily- and again he mistook her shock for something else. He took it for... fear.
“Ra-Rani Sahiba...” he whispered, his hands coming up to cup her face. “Do-don’t be afraid of me, Rani Sahiba. I’ll... I would never hurt you.” he whispered- and again, Anjali’s heart skipped a bit. Because she heard what he had not said. Because hurting you would mean hurting myself. Was it wishful thinking? she wondered. Was she dreaming, daring to dream once again? Would this dream- one she’d harbored for the past eleven years as she’d fallen deeper and deeper in love with this wonderful, contradictive, gentle yet cold man that her husband was- also end in tatters... shattering her? Would it be yet another dream of hers- that the Most important man in her life had trampled beneath his feet? Cruelly, heartlessly, Like her Father had? She had put her faith in him at that time, had she not? He had been the most important man in her life at that time, even if he was repulsed by her- but Anjali had loved him with her naive daughter’s heart. And she had loved once again- wholly, this time with a woman’s, a wife’s heart. Would this dream end in a similar way?
“Don’t cry, Rani Sahiba... Please...” Anjali was startled- Had she been crying? Had she imagined the pain in his voice when he had told her to not cry? She couldn’t have, could she? She looked up and her eyes met with his earnest ones. His Beautiful Eyes. “My Meneka...” he whispered, shocking her for the umpteenth time that night. Did he know about her secret? Why hadn’t he said anything yet?
He moved forward, his warm and slightly spiked breath washing over hers, as he looked down at her lips and back up again- his eyes holding her- paralysing her. His hands slipped around her waist, pulling her towards him, and she closed her eyes, one part of her mind anticipating his drugging kiss on her lips- and the other half resenting him for thinking of her as a body to be had. But the kiss never came. and Anjali’s eyes snapped open. Her husband, for the very first time in the whole of their married life, had hugged her to him- almost crushing her slight frame against his hard, tall one, bending to bury his face in the crook of her neck as silent tears dripped down his cheeks and onto her bare skin. She knew not when her hands came up to cradle his head against her shoulder, her other one rubbing soothing circles up and down his back. And every other thought flew out of her mind- except that she had to make him feel better. Such is the love of a woman, she thought wryly, before she whispered soothing words in his ear, cradling him gently against her, as she shot a look at the Housekeeper and the man nodded his head. This would never get out. And then, she led him away to their bedroom- supporting him, as he seemed incapable of doing it himself. And for the first time that night, Anjali Malek Jha felt that she was Shyam Manohar Jha’s wife. His Rani Sahiba, she thought with pride. Wondering, if in all this, she had been selfish- only thinking about her sorrows- what about his? Was there something that he had locked up inside himself for so long that it had taken him eleven years to open up to her? Life and Love had a funny habit of throwing you off-kilter at the strangest of times, didn’t they?
He refused to let go of her, as she helped him sit on the bed. Anchoring her to himself, as he hugged her fiercely- as if he thought she was going to leave if he didn’t. Keep me with you Love, she thought tenderly, and I will never Leave. tears springing to her eyes. She cupped his cheeks, her small soft hand tickled by his scruffy five ‘o’ clock shadow- a tingle of pleasure running through her. Something that had nothing to do with lust- and everything with Love. he turned his head and placed a soft, moist kiss in the centre of her palm- and her heart thudded like it had done when she had been with him for the first time- almost Eleven years back. He looked back up at her, and his large palm covered hers. The pain in his eyes tearing at her. He moved closer to her, still holding her hand still on his cheek with his. His nose was almost brushing hers. and this time- he did kiss her. But the pure and raw emotion that he poured this one kiss knocked her breath out of her. She teared up- was it too much to hope that he loved her just as much as she loved him?
“Rani Sahiba...” he murmured against her lips, and the plea in his voice made her snap her eyes open. he pulled back, his other hand coming up to caress her cheek lightly, tenderly- his eyes filling with tears.
“Will it ever be how it is supposed to be?”
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Please tell they finally realise what they feel for each other. Love Shyam in this, his devotion and fidelity.
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