Chapter 1 – Rekindling the Fire – Arshi FF
What exactly happened on the night of Rakhi?
Arshi FF | IPKKND| Arnav Singh Raizada| Khushi Kumari Gupta
Brief Intro
Okay, while all of you are waiting for SMA, AND, ROP, PTP, you might be thinking why is Chitra posting random plots.
Well, the thing is, this plot came to me and I began writing it for fun. Before I knew it, it became a chapter, then 2, then 3.
The prompt itself is courtesy, our dearest Prachiji. She said in random that she wanted to read what might have happened on the night of Rakhi after Arnav gifts Khushi all those presents. The reason being that the following morning Arnav is gazing at her with passion, and it seems like they either discussed, made out, kissed maybe, we don’t know.
This is my humble attempt to take that thought process and give it a closure.
The plot starts from after Arnav gifts Khushi jalebis, salman khan poster etc. Everything else is my own imagination. It ends on a cliffhanger. But that’s classic Chitra, you should all know that by now. There are at least 2 more chapters.
Hope you like it. Do comment. Keep reading. (Since chapter is free for everyone, your comments may not be posted immediately. It will await moderation. So don’t panic. I will approve them as soon as I can.)
Love Chitra.
PS: Prachiji, this one is for you yaara, now you won’t complain again ki I don’t write for you.
PPS: If any of you have any requests send them over, I’ll see if i can write. It may not happen immediately, but I will try and do it eventually. Promise. (If I don’t like the prompt, I may refuse it.)
PPPS: Yes, these prompt related plots are free for all. No members can read it too. There are so many Arshi fans its only fair they get to read it too.
I know, I suffer with plagiarism and then I do headless things like these. SIGH! What to do?
Chapter 1
Unfurling the poster of Salman Khan, Khushi smiled. He looked drop dead gorgeous as always, and he was gazing at her like he always did.
But she wasn’t admiring him, or chatting with him, she was lost to the thought of how handsome her husband had looked in a white kurta.
That he had dropped his three-piece black suit and agreed to wear a white kurta at her request turned her heart into a puddle of mesh. To add to that he’d smiled all evening, which was such a rarity for the grumpy Arnav Singh Raizada.
As though that wasn’t endearing enough, he’d then showered her with so many gifts she hadn’t known what to do with herself.
Her gaze fell on the box of jalebis— they were from her favourite shop in Chandini chowk.
How did he know her favourite shop?
She then smiled at the jar of spiced lentils, the packet of gol gappas, a pair of jhumkas she had been wanting to buy from the shop near her Buaji’s cottage.
Who had told him all these were her favourites?
How had he found out he’d been meaning to buy those jhumkas from the shop near her Buaji’s cottage.
“Laad Governor,” she whispered fondly under her breath. “Chupe rustom bhi nikle.” (Didn’t know you watched me secretly.)
The gifts had so much heart, she held each one to her heart and smiled.
Her fingers grazed over the dozen red bangles and she blushed again. He had got her a brand new set. It warmed her heart that he even knew her wrist-size.
She collected all the gifts and sat outside, beside Arnav’s poolside and admired the gifts all over again. The poolside was her favourite place.
There were so many memories she had of this place.
Some good, some awful.
It was where her husband tended to his darling plants every morning, after evening. There were so many different varieties of flowers he grew, but lately a lot of red roses had cropped up she was beginning to notice.
She then gazed at the chair where he’d knelt at her feet and clasped her anklet in place on the night of Diwali..
She then lifted her eyes to that spot where he’d almost kissed her on the night of the Diwali and blushed.
She also blushed, thinking of that warm afternoon when he’d kissed her cheek, right here, beside this poolside, challenging her to kiss him back.
Laad governor! She twisted her mouth.
But she also froze, thinking of that time when it was this exact spot where he’d laid his heartless terms and had blackmailed her into marrying him for six months.
He had later made her sleep outside in the cold, right beside this very pool.
She clutched her heart, not willing to re-live those horrifying days.
But her tears fell as the memory of all those lonely, fear-filled nights came back to her when Arnav had gone missing and she had wept for him in this very spot.
Thankfully he was safe now. Thankfully he was here at last.
Sucking in breath, she pushed away all the unsavoury images of the recent past. She reached for a jalebi to comfort herself and smiled at the handsome features of the top Bollywood actor.
A die-hard Salman Khan fan since a child, she chuckled thinking of all those times when she’d declared unflinching love to this Salman. She had even secretly married him when she’d turned sixteen. And over the years, she’d burned with envy whenever she’d seen a picture of Salman Khan with any other woman.
You’re mine, Salmanji, she’d sit in front of his poster in her father’s modest home in Lucknow and tell him.
But this evening, as she gazed at the poster, it felt different. He was still handsome, still smiling back at her from within the poster, still her favourite star, but he no longer had the power on her he once had.
That power to hold her captive now belonged to another man. It belonged to her husband— Arnav Singh Raizada.
Putting away the poster, she pulled out Arnav’s picture from within her diary and smiled. It was a picture of them from their wedding night that NK had clicked. He was dressed in his three-piece black-suit, she was in her red and blue lehenga. They both wore the rich red rose garland around their neck. While he stared at the camera with murder, she kept her tear-filled eyes to the void before her.
Her heart clenched at how scary that night had been when he’d forced her into a loveless marriage. Life had looked bleak and dark.
But little had she known then, that six months later, she’d be sitting out on his terrace and reminiscing that moment with a bitter-sweet pang in her belly.
Little had she known, he was never letting her go.
She stroked her fingers to his handsome face in the picture. Although his gaze was fierce, and his jaw hard like a rock, the flutters her husband sent through her belly, no other man could, not even Salman Khan.
“Thank you for the gifts,” she whispered, leaning to kiss his picture.
Her husband has excelled her expectations. Not that she’d ever expected anything from him.
But as she slid a few bangles around her delicate wrists, she blushed. These weren’t gifts, these were a gesture of affection, a token of love.
Love, she blushed again as she reached for another jalebi.
Were these a token of his love?
Was he in love with her?
Every moment of the last several months came back to her. The way he’d misunderstood her, hated her, hurt her, forced her into marrying him. And then the abduction itself made her shudder. He had almost got killed.
What if something had happened to him?
She shook her head, not wanting to re-live that terrifying moment when she’d thought she’d lost him.
But then her gaze fell on the delicate string of pearls and her eyes welled with tears.
That horrifying moment when Arnav had ripped the pearls of her blouse the first time they had crashed into each other flashed in front of her.
The hurt of that moment was still so raw, she clenched her eyes trying to soothe the ache in her heart.
“Not good?” Arnav’s deep voice echoed from behind her and she gasped.
As she turned, the bangles on her lap slid and fell to the floor.
Arnav knelt to pick the one that had rolled to his feet.
He gazed at the bangle with pure devotion and then he gazed at her.
“Why are sitting on the floor?” he asked.
“I like to sit here.” She whispered, gathering the edge of her saree closer. She hadn’t still changed. But then, neither had he.
She peeked at him from under her lashes and admired him to her heart’s content. He looked so handsome in his white kurta, she was lost to the moment.
The Salman khan poster flew away in the breeze and got tangled in the branches of the lemon tree, but Khushi couldn’t care any less.
Her thoughts, her gaze, her heartbeats too, everything remained arrested upon this magnificent man who was now her husband.
She lowered her head as Arnav sat beside her and leaned to push back a tendril of hair away from her cheek.
His fingertips touched her cheek and she shivered.
He then held his hand out for her.
She smiled and slid her hand into his. As he began gently pushing the bangle over her hand, she blushed.
The last time he had gotten her bangles, he had pretended they weren’t from him.
This time, he had not only handed them to her personally, but was now sliding them around her wrists.
This was a moment she’d treasure forever.
“This is a sorry for one of your bangles I broke over the last several weeks,” Arnav whispered.
That was so heartwarming, tears pricked Khushi’s eyes and she shot her eyes to him. There had been so many times when he’d crushed her bangles in his fit of rage.
Was he really sorry for every one of those times? Was he also sorry for all the bruises he left on her hands, and for every wound he inflicted on her heart?
But she frowned when Arnav peeked at her. And when he sheepishly slid his hand into his pocket and removed a few broken pieces of a bangle, she gasped.
“These were from when I sent you to that dilapidated outhouse,” he said regretfully.
A shiver ran down her spine and she blinked. How could she forget that night when she had been trapped in a crumbling building? The ceilings, the walls everything had shuddered and crashed around her.
He had risked her life and sent her there.
It hadn’t been deliberate, but she’d feared she’d die that night. She’d feared she’d be squashed to death under the rubble tumbling down upon her.
But all her fears had disappeared the moment Arnav had turned up and saved her.
He was her tormentor and her saviour, both at once.
“I’d been so worried for you that night,” she whispered, studying the deep cut on his forehead. The cut was from the recent abduction, but he had hurt himself that night too.
She been worried for his safety that night more than for her own. She’d hopelessly fallen in love with him a long long time ago, it dawned upon her at last.
“You were worried for my safety?” Arnav raised a brow. “You were the one trapped in that outhouse you silly.”
“Haan, par…Why did you come for me that night,” she asked? “Why risk your life.”
When he didn’t answer, she cupped his cheek and gazed at him. But it surprised her she’d touched him at all.
Their marriage had only just been a facade.
When had she earned the right to touch him at will?
But what surprised her more was the way Arnav rested his cheek in the palm of her hand and gazed at her with deep warm eyes.
“Why did you risk your life and come save me?” he asked.
Because I love you, Khushi wanted to say.
“It was my duty,” she whispered, touching her hand to her mangalsutra.
“Lets say, I came for you, because it was my job.” He smirked.
“Liar.”
His smirk turned to a heartfelt smile, but he continued gazing at her. “The truth is I wasn’t thinking that night,” he confessed. “My manager called to say the site was unsafe. I lost my mind the moment I realised you were trapped inside.”
“You came for me?”
“I had to. The fear of what I’d do if something were to happen to you made me shudder,” he choked. “Sorry I put you in danger. I was an idiot.”
She smiled, thinking of that moment when she had fisted his chest, called him irresponsible. That was when he had caught her hand, and had crushed her bangles. But unable to contain her fear and panic, her body had finally given up its fight, and she had passed out in his arms, finally at peace that he was there to keep her safe.
“Sorry, I fought you.” She smiled.
“Good you did.” He caressed the broken pieces of the bangles in his hand and smiled. “I got to keep these as a memory.”
“I can’t believe you kept them.” She shook her head, surprised to see he’d treasured a bangle from a time when they’d barely known each other, when they had hated each other’s guts. Or at least that was what they had been pretending to do.
“Sorry, I hurt you.” He took her hand into his and kissed that spot where the bangle had pricked her till she’d bled. The wound had long healed, but when a tear escaped the corner of Khushi’s eyes, she realised the hurt had lingered in her heart, until now.
But the caress of his lips healed the wound forever.
Kissing all over her wrist, he got back to slipping on the rest of the bangles and admired her hands.
“I love the sound they make,” he confessed, stunning her some more.
Khushi jingled her wrists on purpose and laughed when he kissed her bangles.
“You look beautiful today.” He took her hand into his, his gaze moving down to admire the rich orange saree she had donned.
“Thanks for the saree,” she whispered. It had surprised her earlier that evening when she had found a box on her bed. The saree that had glittered back at her as she’d opened the box had left her speechless.
“Did you select it?” she asked.
“Hmm…” Arnav’s gaze continued sweeping all over her. “Spent two hours at the shop. Payal came with me.”
She widened her eyes in awe, wishing she too had joined them, just to watch him terrorise the salesmen.
“Hope none of the salesmen needed therapy.”
“Hmm..” Arnav gave it a thought. “One of them might have collapsed in fear.” He nodded. “He kept thrusting a hideous brown into my hand…..that was when I gave him a deathly glare.”
“Aman probably sent him flowers,” he added with a wink. “Along with a get well soon card.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You should stick to online shopping Arnavji. People will stop banning you from entering the shops.”
Arnav laughed too. “I can buy whatever shop you wish, my firecracker.”
Firecracker? She raised her brow at that.
“Is it because I sparkle? Because I sprinkle light where ever I go?” she asked brightly.
“Hmm…” Narrowing his eyes, he gave it a thought. “It’s because your so noisy. Bachar bacher bacher, you talk nonstop.”
Khushi’s jaw fell to the floor.
She pouted and fumed, and then she turned away. “Jayiye hum aapse baat nahi karte.” (I won’t speak to you anymore.)
Arnav wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her cheek. “I never siad I mind your non-stop chattering. I like it. I want you to keep chatting to me.”
She turned to gaze at him, but she blushed at how warm and intense his eyes were. Lately, he had relaxed so much in her presence, he no longer resembled the grim-faced Arnav Singh Raizada he used to be. The flutters and shivers were still there, but there was something soothing about him now.
“You didn’t change.” She admired me some more.
“Neither have you.”
“Thanks for all these gifts.”
“Thanks for liking them.” He caressed her cheek.
As she admired every one of her gifts, “Your Salman Khan is fluttering behind that branch. He’s not your favorite anymore?”
You are my new favourite, she thought, gazing at him with love.
“So, which one of my presents is your favourite?” he asked.
It was a difficult choice to make. They were all heartfelt. They were all dear to her.
But her gaze fell upon the pearl necklace and her eyes pooled with tears.
Arnav’s gaze followed hers.
He took the necklace into his hand and held it up for her.
As their eyes met, her tears slid, but he cupped her cheek in his hand and whispered a heartfelt, “Sorry.”
“Why,” she asked? Why had he assaulted her like the way he had? Like a beast? Like an unlawful creature?
“I wanted you, Khushi,” he choked, looking so tormented, she wanted to take him into her arms.
But what he said made her widen her eyes.
“I know it sounds wrong,” he went on, taking her into his arms to kiss her forehead. “I know it sounds sick, but I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I hated myself for wanting a woman I’d just met, but I did.”
“You wanted me?” She gasped. As shocking as it was to hear him say that, she was stunned to realise she had wanted him too. She had wanted him every moment of the last several months.
“I’m done fighting myself, Khushi.” Arnav turned to rest his head on her lap. He sounded exhausted, defeated. And it seemed like he wanted to lay his weapons and rest.
Khushi smiled at the tenderness of the moment. She gazed at him for a few moments. Her hand hesitated for a beat, but she ran her fingers through his hair, sighing at how soft they were, despite how curly and long.
“Can we start all over?” he asked.
“Can we?” She asked, with hope rising in her voice.
Arnav gazed at her for several moments.
“Your Salman Khan is staring at us.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the branch between which the poster was fluttering and laughed.
“Lets stick him to your side of the wall.” He got up to his feet.
Khushi kept her hand on her lap, feeling cold and empty now that he was no longer on her lap.
“Where do you want him?” He plucked the poster from behind the branch.
“I don’t want him.” Getting up to her feet, she smiled at him ruefully.
“No?” He frowned.
“I have a new favourite,” she whispered. “White is his colour, but he prefers black. Red is his favourite though.”
She didn’t need to elaborate, her eyes had said it all.
Arnav too held her eyes. “Red is his favourite only when its on you.”
Khushi stared at him, blushing, shivering, wanting to hide in his arms, yet wanting to run as far from him as she could.
“Hey.” His eyes glittered as he took her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’ve had idea.”
“Hmm.” Khushi frowned.
“Umm…” He let go of her and urgently gathered all the gifts. “Get changed.” He caught her had and dragged her behind him.
“Arey par.” Before she knew it, he left all the boxes on the coffee table and opened her side of the wardrobe. Searching through the hangers of sarees, he smirked when he found the one he was looking.
“This one.” He handed her.
Khushi widened her eyes. “Why this one?” she asked. “Arnavji its almost ten. I don’t wear sarees to bed. I find them uncomfortable.”
“Whoever said we’re sleeping.” He stared at her.
They weren’t sleeping? Why did he want her in the red saree she’d worn the previous year for Diwali so late at night in that case?
The way his eyes glittered, Khushi gulped for breath.
“Now quick, don’t waste time.” He pushed her into the bathroom to get changed.
“Will you be changing too?” she yelled from within.
“What do you want me in?” he yelled back.
She took a moment to consider. Although she loved him in his white kurta, three-piece suits defined Arnav Singh Raizada. They had also grown upon her over the months.
But not just any three-piece, the one he paired with a white shirt.
“Black suit with white shirt,” she yelled from inside, while stripping off her saree. “Don’t forget the waistcoat.”
She waited for him to yell back, but “Okay,” he whispered from the other side of the wall. “Come out on the terrace when you’re ready.”
Khushi jumped. She had ripped off her blouse now. There was only a door between them and nothing else. If the door was to give way, he’d see her in nothing but her essentials. It was such a sensuous thought, she blushed.
Was she ready to have him see her like this?
She covered her face not wanting to hear her own dangerous thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, once Khushi brushed her hair, wore some kajal and lip balm, the lights glittering from behind the curtains caught her eyes and she frowned.
Why were there candles outside? She wondered.
Smoothing her saree one last time, she smiled at her reflection, adjusted her bangles and strode outside.
But the sight that met her made her jaw fall wide open.
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