Author’s note

This book is called, Reflections of Passion. 

It will have chapters 1 one onwards, and won’t be more than 9 or 10 chapters. 

This is not a Parody, this is a proper plot. So, those of you reading it, please bear that in mind, that it is a story about choices. Here Khushi chooses head over heart.

The title is the same for both stories today. There it meant I let go of my inhibitions. Here it means, I let go of Arnav.

Hope you like this, as this is my take on a woman who loved a man, but wasn’t able to marry him for whatever reasons, and moved on with another.

And her perception of the letter too is totally opposite. 

It starts in the same way as SMA, but here Khushi stays back with Aryaman. And her perception of the letter too is totally opposite. 

Hope you like it. 

Love Chitra.

PS: Some of the statements Khushi makes about women loving men with abandon, are actual statements that I have come across, mainly for my Chandini of Entrapment. These statements are not mine. But statements made by some foolish pseudo feministic fools who think they have the right to judge women who choose to follow their heart. Outraged, during Entrapment, I wrote a Parody. Here I write a Parallel Plot. Because my Advay and Arnav are very different. While Advay made me turn his Chandu into Chandi, and himself into an imbecile.  Arnav plans on destroying your mind with the way he breaks with every chapter. These are very possessive men, be very careful before you toy with their women. HAHA!! 

********************

 

“You don’t like roses?” Standing in front of him, she glanced at the roses around her, and asked, while thinking of that evening when Arnav had pinned a rose to her hair, and had almost kissed her.

“My Priya loved daisies.” He smiled.

“Daisy?”

“They are simple flowers that grow everywhere. Nothing special about them, in fact, some consider them weeds. But they are always happy, despite their circumstances.”

Khushi stood in the middle of her lawn, and gazed at him with a warm smile. “I really wish I could have met your Priyaji.”

“She was a rare woman, Khushi.” He kept his gaze on her. “Like you.”

Khushi smiled, lost to his gaze. A cool breeze blew around them, and a gust of the heady perfume suffused though her, and she glanced around, and smiled. “I love Roses, Aryamanji,” glancing at him, she whispered. “That too red ones.”

An awkward silence hung between them. Yet, again, perhaps for the first time, Khushi took notice of him. He was almost the same height as Arnav, and the same build. But while Arnav’s gaze was always dark and mysterious, Aryaman’s eyes were warm and deep. If Arnav’s mouth was always pressed in displeasure. Aryaman always donned a playful smile. Arnav wore his arrogance on his sleeve, ensuring he was distant, untouchable. But Aryaman was approachable, his stance friendly, and inviting. He was perhaps opposite to Arnav in every way. And she found herself slowly being drawn to this man, who had earned her affection, and respect too.

Yet, a part of her ached for Arnav, and her eyes welled. 

But Aryaman’s mother came to her mind, and she smiled ruefully. Moth to flame, she scoffed. It sounded dreamy on paper. In the poems Arnav had written for her, which perhaps had meant nothing for him, other than a tool to lure romantic fools like her. But real life wasn’t about poetry. Real life was about weighing options, and making the right choices.

And she found the man in front of her warming her heart. He wasn’t setting her on fire, but she felt a soothing warmth fill her in a very long.

“Are you okay?”

His mother’s request came to her mind.

“Just because I love roses, doesn’t mean I cannot appreciate daisies.” She smiled, holding his gaze.

Aryaman raised a brow. 

“I would like to read this with you.” She held the letter up to him.

Aryaman laughed. “Not a good idea, Khushi. I don’t want you to hear the words I am capable of for my father.”

“You can call him whatever you want to. So long you are able to understand your mother.”

“I understand her, Khushi. Although I don’t agree with her choices, I understand her.”

Khushi glanced over her shoulder to the dark porch.

“Isn’t anyone home?” he asked.

“My sister and Buaji are at an engagement party.”

“Oh!” He raised a brow. “Didn’t you not go?”

“No.” She smiled, holding his gaze again. “I preferred meeting your mother instead.”

Aryaman stopped, and narrowed his eyes, but she continued smiling, as she asked, “Do you want to come inside?”

He took a moment before answering, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he followed her up the porch, and into the house. While she got rid of her shoes, and turned the light, asking him to make himself comfortable, she disappeared into her room. Ten minutes later, freshened and changed in a white lucknowi kurti and a pair of pyjamas, as Khushi returned, Aryaman gazed at her in awe. 

Gathering her hair, she tied it all up on her head for a loose bun, and asked, “Coffee?” with a smile.

“Tea.” He got up to his feet nervously, watching her in awe, as she strode into the kitchen. Thankfully there wasn’t a wall in front of the counter, giving him uninterrupted view of her pretty face from where he stood. 

Reaching for a pan, she began boiling some water with a few spoonfuls of tea. Strolling up to her, he kept his gaze on her, as she then took another pan, and began measuring rice and dal. 

“You’re cooking?” he asked, glancing at the watch. “Its only half six……I didn’t know you eat so early, or I’d have taken you to a restaurant.”

“No. I’m making kichdi.” She smiled, as she added some water, and let the pan boil. “For you, Mannuji.”

Stunned, Aryaman remained frozen before her. 

Khushi added ginger, cloves and cardamon to the tea, and finally poured in some milk. 

“Biscuits.”

“Sure.” He nodded.

“While the rice cooks, shall we have tea and read your mother’s letter?” Straining the tea in two cups, she handed him one cup, and followed him out with the other cup in her hand. 

“Terrible idea. But since you insist.” He waited for her to hand him the letter as they sat on the sofa. But laughed as soon as he glanced through the contents.

“What is it?” Khushi sat beside him and peeked into the letter.

“Fucking bastard,” he swore under his breath, but flicked his eyes to Khushi. “Sorry, I warned you.”

“Let me read it, please.”

Shaking his head in despair, he handed it to her, but Khushi watched how he desperately struggled to stop his tears from falling.

Thandi Thandi Chandini  ( in the cool of the moonlight)

Odhe choonar bandini.  ( With my dupatta draped around me) 

Jhoomu jooda kholke  ( I shall twirl and dance, with my hair unbound and free)

Main thirku banke ragini ( and I shall dance like the notes of a melody)

Harı Harı Choodiyan ( With my arms tinkling with green bangles)

Mita de tu dooriyan.  ( Please come and end this misery of separation)

O Re piya         ( O my beloved) 

Rasta nihare bawari ( I keep waiting for you like a woman who has lost her mind)

Mere teri ardhangini,  ( I am after all your wedded wife)

Or Ranaji.       ( O my King/ Master, but it could mean husband too.) 

“Wow,” she breathed, while tears began pooling in her eyes. This was exactly how she felt for Arnav too.

“You see how much she loves him?” he choked.

“Hmm.” Khushi nodded. Not just knowing, but living that moment too. Yet, her man had never not just returned, but hadn’t valued her feelings for him too.

Closing her eyes, she thought of Arnav, and of the ways he was ignoring her too. A refusal had turned him to ice. How would he have treated her once he’d had his ways with her, and discarded her? She thought of Mili, and shook her head. She didn’t want to become Mili. 

Rasta nihare bawari ( I keep waiting for you like a woman who has lost her mind)

She read those lines again, and shook her head. It didn’t feel like Madhu’s letter for her Arya, but like Khushi’s heartfelt whisper for Arnav. 

Mere teri ardhangini,  ( I am after all your wedded wife)

She wiped her tears, and chuckled. So this crazy women was, still living the delusion she was her Thakurji’s wife, while he had tossed her out of his life like an unwanted toy, and gone on to marry the woman his parents had chosen for him. She didn’t disrespect him for having respected his parents wishes. But she was disgusted with him, for having touched a woman, knowing well there was no future for them. And she clenched her teeth in angry, at the way in which he had done it. To have taken her to a temple, to fill her parting, declare his wife before no one except the sun and the moon, to have taken her, gotten her pregnant, and then mocked at her years later for her choices.

Aryaman was right, Arnav too was just like this man. The only difference was that he was being honest in having told her to her face that they would never be a marriage. And for that she was grateful to him. At least, now it meant, she could make an informed choice. 

As Aryaman decided to take a stroll outside on the verandah, she continued reading, knowing well he was perhaps wanting to have a quiet moment to shed a few tears. 

I chipped away, at your cold exterior. 

Dodging shards of ice, until you were no longer hard

But even though I cracked

your heart would not melt. 

• — Christy Ann Martine 
• She wanted to crumble the letter and toss it in the trash. But she read it all over again. And her tears fell. This Thakur man seemed exactly like Arnav. Cold, and cruel, with not an ounce of sympathy for the woman who loved him to this day with such devotion, it was heart-breaking. Although she’d had second thoughts earlier, after reading this poem, she shook her head. This would not be her. She wouldn’t let a man disrespect her like this. Love was pointless without respect. And there was no way she could bring herself to respect men who treated their women with such disregard. 
•  
• Her gaze moved to the last poem
•  

Like the sky meets the land, at the horizon. 

We met too, you and I.

In that field, beyond this world, for the briefest of moments.

Yet that moment, when your breath mingled into mine, lingers on to this day.

They say it was a mistake, but I have no regrets.

And if you called me there, again,

To that field beyond right and wrong.

I shall come meet you. Again. 

And again. And again. And again.

•  

Fool! There she’d said it herself. And tossed the letter. As she crossed her legs on the sofa, and sipped on her tea, she fumed with anger, wanting to find this bastard who had cheated upon Madhuji, and kill him with her bare hands. But since she couldn’t, she decided to take it out on Arnav instead. 

“Meeting you had to be the worst curse of my life.” She sent him a message in her fit of rage. “I’m glad my Devi Maiyya protected me in time from a monster like you. I shall be handing in my resignation first thing Monday, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada. Don’t you ever dare contact me agian. All the best to you. And thank god I came to my senses and said a NO before I lost myself to a disgusting man like you. I stand by my decision. IT IS A NO. Suna Aapne…A ‘NO’ MR RAIZADA.”

Tossing her phone, she got up to her feet, and strode into the kitchen. The rice had boiled. Now all that remained was adding the tempering and having it ready. Yet, her body trembled at everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Just four weeks and the pain already was so intense, the thought of having to live this kind of agony for the rest of her life left her shuddering. 

Covering her face, she broke into a sob. 

“Khushi.” Aryaman’s hand suddenly reached for her. She didn’t know when he’d strode back into the house, but as he turned her, she rested her head on his chest and wept. She hadn’t wept like this in over a week. And she just needed a friend in that moment. She just needed someone to hold her while she mourned that piece of her soul that she had lost to Arnav. He had never deserved any of the emotions she’d wasted upon him. And she wouldn’t waste any more tears upon him.

“Khushi.” Aryaman’s voice was warm and comforting, as he stroked her hair tenderly. “This is why I asked you not to read it. This is why I never read it. Or trust me, I wish to go back in time and murder the bastard.”

“She says she has no regrets.” She shook her heat in utter disbelief. “Does she have no self-respect?”

Aryaman shrugged.

“I mean what kind of a woman doesn’t have self-respect?” she continued in pure horror. “He made it clear he didn’t want her. He never offered her marriage. And even later he turned up with a wife and family, yet she says she’ll meet him if she calls her. Sorry, but your mother is a spineless woman.”

A silence descended, but Aryaman blew out a sigh. “As awful as it may sound, I agree with you, Khushi. She’s a fool.”

“I didn’t expect her to be like this. What is the matter with her?” she asked, shocked, stunned. “How can she allow this man to trample all over her, and treat her like trash, and still love him back? How can any woman allow a man to treat her with such disrespect, and still love him back. These kinds of woman disgust me. Kalank hai aurat ke naam par.”

“Now you see why this moth and flame nonsense you were telling me about earlier only sounds good in poems?” Aryaman pursed his lips.

Khushi sniffled, and nodded.

“Real life main naa Khushiji, one needs to get real,” he added. “To think with their head, always. And never let the heart take over…because the heart is a fool.”

Pondering on the entire debacle again, she lifted her eyes to him. “If you could go back in time, and meet your mother before she decided to accept you father, and advice her, what would you tell her?”

“To be practical.” He shrugged. “I’d tell her to weigh her options. I’d tell her not to ever offer herself to a man who won’t honour her with anything less than marriage.”

Khushi held his eyes, and smiled ruefully. 

“Priya and I dated for over two years before we married. But from the moment we declared our feelings to each other, I had made it clear to her I had every intention of marrying her. It was never less. In fact, I’d even given her a simple silver ring as a promise that one day I’d replace it with a diamond.”

“And you did?”

“I did.” He chuckled. “A stunning ten carat diamond, just like one she’d always wanted.”

“You are a good man, Aryamanji.”

“And right now, I am a hungry man, Khushiji.” He laughed.  “And the aroma of that kichdi is making my mouth water.”

Khushi laughed too, as she began adding the final tempering, and gave it a stir. 

“Sorry you are having to eat a kichdi because of me.” He chuckled. 

“I love, Kichdi.” She chirped. “Its my favourite.”

“Is it?”

“It is my all time comfort food.” She laughed. “In fact, I’ve been craving it ever since your mother mentioned it.”

He laughed, as he offered to take the plates to the table, while she warmed the ghee. 

“Priya used to crave for Kichdi during her pregnancy. Although just eight weeks, she ate it all the time.”

“That’s so endearing, Aryamanji.” Pouring the contents into a bowl, she strode into the lounge. 

“It had to be mine, the baby, she’d tease.” He laughed. “The love for Kichdi was ingrained in its genes.”

Khushi served him a generous amount, while gazing at him with pity, sad he’d lost his wife and unborn child, while his mother was oblivious to him. 

“This may not be like your mother’s,” She blew out a sigh as he lifted a spoonful. “But this is how my Amma makes it.”

Nodding, he eat a spoonful and moaned.

“Good?” She asked. 

“Hmm.” He moaned again, reaching for the pot of ghee to smother the rice and dal blend with it. 

Khushi too ate a few spoonfuls, and moaned at how good it felt. Her insides warmed, and she smiled. Yet, her eyes shifted to her phone, and she clicked it. There were no messages. She had expected him to snap, to tell her she was a mistake too. But silence wasn’t what she’d expected. Her eyes welled, and she fed herself another spoonful, and another. It would end eventually, she’d known. Just hadn’t know this was how it would all end. 

“What’s wrong?”

Jolting out of her thoughts, she shook her head, to realise she had a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I ate a chilli,” she lied.

“Can’t do hot food?”

“I can.” She smiled, but a hint of sadness poured through. 

“What’s wrong, Khushi?” He took her hand into his.

“Your mother loved your father.” She gulped. “Had she chosen to move away from him, do you think she could have found happiness again?”

Aryaman blew out a breath, pondering on her question. 

“I cannot speak for my mother, because every person is differed.” He shrugged. “But after Priya left me, I’ve been so broken, the thought of moving on hadn’t even crossed my mind….till…”

“You cannot fall in love again.” She smiled ruefully.

“Thats what I thought.” He held her gaze. “But recently things have changed….recently, I find myself smiling all the time. And I find myself dreaming of a different face….and I find myself dreaming of a life with this beautiful woman I’m slowly falling for.”

“Wow.” She laughed. “Whoever this woman is, she must be very lucky.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you are good man, who will honour her by returning her love and respect.”

“Respect is very important for you, isn’t it?” He held her gaze.

“A man who honours my feelings, and returns it with his own is what matters to me,” she explained. “A man who is willing to declare to the world that his loyalty is with me, and who will sanctify our feelings for each other with marriage, is the kind of man who will also have my respect in return.”

“Hmm.”

“I cannot accept a man who doesn’t respect me, Aryamanji,” she declared to herself more than to him. “Because I won’t be able to respect him either.”

“Love sounds good,” she continued. “But unless one is willing to live their lives in an asylum like your mother, its not a feasible option.”

As he laughed, she chuckled too, with a hint of sadness. “Like your mother said, Love not for a weak-willed. Aag dariya. And not everyone has the courage to take the plunge, that too all by themselves. I certainly am not one of those.”

Aryamanji kept his gaze on her, listening to her with intent, while she continued to tell him about her dreams, and her wishes for a marriage that will keep her close to her parents, mainly her father. But she also finally declared that she wasn’t marrying until her sister was. And then pulled out a photo of Prashanth and handed him. 

“These are the kinds of namoonas who approach us.” She rolled her eyes, while he studied the picture with narrowed eyes.

“He is yet to meet me, but his mother called this morning to ask if I can speak English. She also asked my sister if I was just as pretty as I look in my picture of if it has been photoshopped.” Khushi fumed. “And sabse badi baat, she doesn’t want me to work in the fashion industry as it looks bad on their family. Also she doesn’t want me in the catering industry, because their relatives will laugh at them. She’d rather I take up a job as a teacher, and wants me to pursue bachelors in education.”

“And what did you say to all that?”

“Thankfully my sister was sensible not to hand the phone to me, but if she had….I’d have asked this obnoxious never-to-be mother-in-law of mine if her son was made of gold.” 

He almost sprayed his water through his nostrils. 

“Arey, aur nahi tho kya. Abhi tho they haven’t even seen me and all these conditions. Later it will the matter of dowry. Tho I must do all these compromises, pay them dowry, move into their house to manage my job, the house, the in-laws, and the kids, if at all this man is capable of any, and still be mocked at. This is the kind of marriage I must get into.”

Angrily, she got up to her feet, and collected all the dishes.

“Or you can find yourself a man who won’t expect you to change one bit.” Taking a couple of pots, he followed her.

“Men like that don’t exist. Expect in romance novels,” putting away the dishes, she grumbled.

But her eyes fell on the containers his mother had given, and she gasped. “Oh, no Aryamanji, in the rush, I forget to warm the halwa your mother made.”

“Oh!” He reached for the containers and handed it to her. “Koi nahi, warm it now. Lets have it.”

“Sure?”

“Haan. Unless you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” She began emptying the contents into a pan. “I was worried you might want to go home.”

“I could stay here forever, Khushi, and listen to your sweet voice.” Stepping closer, he stood behind her, and took a whiff of the aromas of the halwa. 

A shiver ran down her spine, and she moved away so his chest didn’t touch her back. And despite not wanting to, her thoughts raced to Arnav, and to all the times when he’d stood so close to her. She could still feel his breath to her cheek. And the musky fragrance of his perfume in her being.

Lost to her thoughts, as she continued stirring, Aryaman moved closer. But this time Khushi didn’t move away. Instead, she was lost to a fantasy, of that of Arnav storming into the house to tell her he’d been a fool to let go of her. And as she’d argue back, he’d have her backed against the wall. And when she’d try to escape, he’d tug her back, till she fell backwards into his chest. 

Khushi closed her eyes, feeling his hot warm breath to her ear. His chest brushed to her back, and she leaned back into him. 

“Khushi.” 

She heard his whisper, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Her hands clutched to her side, but she ended up clutching his trouser instead. And as his lips brushed her ear, she moaned. His hand came around her waist, holding her against him. But his grip was loose, and delicate, unlike the steel like hold he’d always exerted on her.

“Ar..Ar…Ar..” She could barely breathe his name, as his mouth moved behind her ear, and down her neck. This felt different. His breath, his touch. And he didn’t trace the curve of her neck like he always did. Instead, his hand pushed her hair away from her shoulder, and he began kissing her nape, all the way to her shoulder. 

She moaned again.

“Khushi.” His hand clasped hers, and he twined his fingers into hers.

“Hmm.” She moaned again, lost to the sensations sweeping through her. Although these sensations were different to how she’d felt with him, these too were simply too sweet.

“Marry me, please.” His lips touched her cheek. 

Khushi shot her eyes wide open. Her heart stopped, and she felt her stomach collapse. Stunned at his words, as she shot her eyes to her side, she widened her eyes in horror to find Aryaman just inches away from her mouth. 

She pulled back, flustered, horrified, stunned even, and surprised at the way her heart was pounding in her ears. This was wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong for some reason. She lifted her eyes to his deep passionate gaze, and blinked.

“Sorry,” he whispered, looking equally shaken. “I thought.” 

Without replying, she brushed past him, and stormed out of the kitchen, and out onto the verandah, wanting a moment to herself. She slumped down on the step, and sucked in a few deep breaths of fresh air. Her mind was totally clouded, maybe with the cocktails of emotions surging through her, or perhaps it was the the spicy flavour of his perfume, or the warm caress of his whisper. 

As her tears threatened to fall, she shook her head, not knowing how to react to what had just transpired between them. How could she have assumed it was Arnav. Aryaman smelt different to Arnav. His perfume was masculine too, but it was more spice than musk, a flavour that was slowly growing upon her. And his touch too had been different. His fingers feather soft, yet firm in the way they’d gripped her cheek. And his lips, O so delicate! Like the touch of a butterfly wing. 

Covering her face with her hands, she relived the moment. And as shameful as it was, she had wanted to tilt her face and let their lips meet. 

And the moment she heard the whisper of his shoes, she stiffened. Her heart thudded, and she clutched tight to her knees as he slowly sat beside her. 

As she peeked at him, she found him handing her a bottle of water, and reached for it with shaky hands.

Neither spoke for a few minutes as she gulped down the bottle.  

“Khushi.” He broke the awkward silence eventually. 

“Aryamanji…..I’m sorry..I’m not in the right frame….I don’t know what…” 

“Its okay.” He took her hand into his, and smiled.

But her tears escaped her eyes anyways. Her head clashing with her heart. Aryaman, or Arnav. But there was no Arnav. There never was. And Aryaman was here. Right here. Sat beside her. 

“Will you let me court you, Khushi?” he finally asked, making her widen her eyes to him.

“I’m thirty-five. Widower. I’ve had my fair share of women, I won’t deny that. But Priya has been the one true love of my life. And I’ve only had one girlfriend before her. But you know all of that…”

“Aryamanji…” Khushi choked, not knowing what to say.

“I don’t play with emotions, Khushi,” he continued. “And never with those of girls like you.”

As Khushi kept her eyes on him, he shrugged. “People think I’ve layers to me. But the truth is, I’m a pretty straightforward man. Its sad Pri isn’t here to confirm that, or she’d have told you how simple I am as a person.” 

His eyes welled, but he swallowed back his tears. “I’ll get straight to the point, Khushi. If you too have felt anything for me, please tell me, so I may speak with you father.”

Khushi heart stopped, and she blinked. 

“Arya…Aryamanji,” she choked again.

“There is a part of me that shall forever belong to Priya, its a fact,” taking her hand into his heart, he choked too. “But there is something about you Khushi that makes me want to live again. And if you were to choose me, I assure you, that barring a part of me that burned that day with Priya, the rest of my heart will belong to you. Every bit of it. Yours. Forever.”

“Aryamanji…I’m not thinking of….”

“Happiness is a mirage in my life,” he choked. “But maybe you are my Khushi. Maybe with you I shall finally find a reason to smile again…..its just a hope.”

Not knowing what to tell him, she wiped her tears, and shook her head. “My sister is…so long…”

“I’ll wait.”

Her eyes flickered all over him. She didn’t have the heart to blatantly refuse him, now that they’d struck such a warm friendship. But she also wasn’t in a state to think of anything right now, let alone marriage. But she had to tell him something. Anything, so this conversation could be put to one side. 

And it struck her.

“Aryamanji, there’s a court case happening against you.” She was reminding herself more than him. “I’m not saying you are guilty. But I cannot associate myself with you unless….”

“Once I prove my innocence, will you let me woo you?” His words were straight to the point. “I shall speak to you father. Take his permission…..but not if you don’t feel anything in return.”

“I need time.” She sniffled.

“Take all the time you need, but no Prashanth please.”

Khushi raised a brow, but broke into a laugh, now understanding why he had suddenly jumped into action like this.

“Khushi, I’m serious.” He sighed. “I cannot live in the fear that while I’m waiting for you to think this over, koi Prashanth baazi maar gaya.”

“Baazi? Am I a game?”

“No, you are a stroke of luck that has happened to me. And I don’t know which star to thank.” He twined his fingers into hers. “Take your time, but please at least give me a chance.”

“I won’t marry till my sister won’t marry, Aryamanji.”

“You can get engaged though, right?”

Her heart pinched at how desperate he sounded. If only this was Arnav, and not Aryaman. If only he’d been here, holding her hand, begging her to at least get engaged to him. 

But it wasn’t Arnav. And she needed to clear her head first. “You need to prove your innocence first,” she said instead, hoping it would put this matter to bed. Court cases took years, which meant, there would be no need to discuss this for a long long time, by which time she could have built a small business for herself back in Lucknow.

“I will,” he declared, making her raise a brow. “But will you at least give me a fair chance.”

She nodded. “You may speak to my father once your prove your innocence….I have no problems.”

“And you will let me court you after that?”

“I don’t want to be courted, Aryamanji,” she choked, just not wanting to go through the emotional mess that this dating, no strings etc came with. “If my father thinks you are the one for me, I shall accept your proposal. Not otherwise.”

“Alright then.” Taking in a deep breath, he got up to his feet and stepped down the porch. “You shall now hear from me once I’ve proved my innocence…..I don’t know how long that will take. But I ask you for a year.” 

Khushi blinked, as he continued. “If by the end of one year I am unable to prove my innocence, you may ask your Babuji to start looking for an alliance for you…..but please, please allow me at least twelve months so I can get this matter resolved.”

“A year sounds perfect, Aryamanji.” She got up to her feet too, relieved in a way. Whether he came back for her or she could request her parents to stop looking for boys for her. It would also give her time to mourn Arnav, and get over him, along with work along side her father and care for him too.

“I’m not saying it shall be a year. It could be sooner too. But thanks, Khushi for giving me a chance.”

As he gave her a bow, and turned to leave, “Aryamanji,” she called out to him. “Even if it doesn’t work, can you please promise me taht you won’t ever stop being friends with me.” 

Her tears rolled as she said it, thinking of Alex, and Akash, and NK too. And of all the people she had made friends with at AR. And had now lost. Along with Arnav.

“I don’t have many friends, Aryamanji,’ she coked, “If this comes at the cost of a friendship….then I won’t”

“It won’t.” He stepped up the porch again, and wiped her tears. 

“Its won’t, Khushi.” Taking her into his arms, he kissed her forehead. “Whether we marry or not, you shall always have a friend in me.”

“Always?” she lifted her gaze to him.

“Hamesha.” He pressed his lips to her forehead again. 

____

“Khushi, Khushi, Khushi.” Miles away, lying on the floor beside his pool, with two empty bottles of scotch around him, Arnav counted the pearls all over again. Twenty-one, he chuckled. 

His phone remained in his hand, and her message remained blurred on the screen. He had been the worst curse, she’d said. And had given him a resounding no, all over again. 

Reaching for his phone, he wanted to reply to her, telling her to fuck off. But instead, he found himself saving her number. “ The Song bird I lost.”

But he turned on his back, and gazed at the stars. Khushi, his heart whispered. But with every teardrop that fell, his khushi was lost, he knew it in his heart.

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