Chapter 29
"Arnav, please! It's not her fault," began Aman, and Arnav turned to him, fist clenched and half raised.
Something, a movement behind her, made her turn. Arnav was standing on the stone steps, looking at both of them.
Khushi stood transfixed, as she met his eyes, and the icy rage in them. Her hands dropped away from Aman's. Aman looked at her in puzzlement, and then turned to see Arnav. He looked blankly at the other man, and then a look of dawning comprehension swept his face, and he started forward, as though to protect Khushi from Arnav.
Arnav moved forward too, murder in his eyes.
Khushi moved swiftly between the two men.
Arnav looked at her then. His eyes spat cold fire, burned her skin.
“You promised,” he bit out. “You promised me … and I trusted you.”
Khushi was white-faced, trembling, her eyes fixed on his face. Her hand reached out hesitantly, nervously, to touch his arm.
Arnav grabbed Khushi's hand, and pulled it hard, jerking her towards him. Khushi stumbled, but regained her balance quickly. Arnav glared at the other man. Aman started forward, his face disturbed.
“Look, man, I can explain …” he started and Arnav held up a furious hand.
“Don’t bother,” he said icily. “I have no desire to speak with you. I’m talking to my wife.”
He turned to Khushi.
“We’re going home,” he said, still in that icy tone. Khushi trembled. That icy dictator she had met the first evening was back.
“Arnav,” she whispered. “Arnav, please … it’s not what you think …”
“You’re standing here, alone with him … and you tell me it’s not what I think it is?” he asked softly, dangerously and she swallowed.
“I promised you,” she whispered. “I didn’t break my word, Arnav.”
He looked at her and the ice in his eyes lessened slightly.
“We’ll talk at home,” was all he said, and turned to leave. Aman’s voice stopped him.
"Arnav, please! It's not her fault," began Aman, and Arnav turned to him, fist clenched and half raised.
"You stay out of this! This is between me and her, do you understand? Stay away from her in future if you know what good for you!"
Khushi put her other hand on Arnav's arm. "Aman, please, go," she said, quietly, looking directly at Aman. "Anjali will be waiting for you. Her session must be almost over. Please tell her I will come to meet her mother very soon. Now, you go."
Aman shook his head. "I'm not leaving you with him like this," he said, grimly, and Arnav made an inarticulate sound of rage and contempt.
"Not leaving her with me?! She's my wife, you ..."
Aman glared right back at Arnav.
"Being her husband doesn't give you the right to manhandle her," he said strongly. "Or to level accusations without knowing the truth ... or even listening to her. Ever heard of domestic abuse, Mr. Raizada?"
Arnav glared at Aman. The ice bristled and sparked with hostility between the two men. Khushi took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at Aman.
"Aman ... Aman, please. Don't say anything more. He's not like that. Please, Aman, just go."
Aman made as if to protest, but something in her face stopped him. He nodded grudgingly and patted her shoulder.
"I'm going, Khushi. But you know where I am, if you ever need me. Ever."
He looked meaningfully at Arnav when he said that, giving him another glare of dislike. He nodded reassuringly at Khushi, turned and went back up the steps to the terrace and beyond the closed doors to the hospital building through them. Arnav watched him go, his eyes glittering with dislike, and a stronger emotion he didn't want to name.
Khushi looked at Arnav, her eyes enormous in her pale face. She couldn’t trust her voice, it was trembling badly. She bit her lip fiercely, willing the tears to not come. Please, she thought, looking at him pleadingly, and then back at the diners in the restaurant, now watching them curiously, please, not here.
Through his rage, Arnav seemed to understand. They made their way out through the restaurant and into the parking lot, Arnav still holding her hand fiercely, bruisingly.
They sat in the car, silently. He made no move to start the engine, but just sat looking straight ahead, his fists clenched on the wheel. She sat quietly, pale-faced, then looked at him.
"What did you think I was doing with Aman, Arnav?" she asked softly. "What made you so angry? Why so angry, Arnav?"
He looked at her, the rage still in his eyes.
"You promised," he said flatly. "You promised not to meet him, Khushi. You were alone with him there."
"I promised not to compromise your name or your dignity," Khushi countered. Her voice trembled slightly as she continued. "I promised not to tell him the truth of our marriage. I didn't do either, Arnav."
He sat silent, trying to calm down the irrational rage still boiling within him.
"Have I ever …" she asked him, and he heard the tremor again, soft though her voice was. "Arnav, have I ever done anything to make you feel this way?"
He stared at her. "What?!"
"Have I ever done anything to make you feel that I am capable of breaking my word?" she said, "Tell me, Arnav. Have I ever behaved differently from what you wanted?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Then why…?" she asked, and her voice broke now. "Why … did you think …" she stopped, and turned her head away to the car window. "Please," she said, "Please, can we go home?"
He looked at her, disbelief warring with rage. "Khushi, I saw you with him! You were alone with him, holding hands, for heaven’s sake! What do you expect me to think, to believe?"
She looked at him.
"I thought you would trust me," she whispered. "From the day we met, I’ve trusted you, told you everything. I told you about Aman from the beginning. You knew that there was a man in my life at the time. I also told you that he was married, and I would not break up his marriage. Nor would I compromise your name."
"Answer me one question," he said, his eyes on her face. "How many times have you and he met, since we got married? Alone? The truth, Khushi."
She looked directly at him, and he saw the tears shining in her eyes, tears she was holding back by sheer force of will.
"I've never lied to you, Arnav," she said, unsteadily. "You've never given me any reason, any need to lie. This is the first time I've met him since we got married, the first time I've been alone with him, even for those few minutes. Anjali was there till about ten minutes before you saw us. She went for her physiotherapy session. Aman had something to tell me ... we talked for ten minutes, and I was just leaving."
He looked at her eyes, and believed her.
They drove home in silence, and by the time they reached, he knew she was sobbing silently. She slipped out of the car at the front door, leaving him to park and follow her in.
Arnav didn't go in straight away. He walked in the lawn for some time, calming his thoughts, his anger, seeing in his mind's eye, again and again, the scene in the garden. Her face, her eyes, as she had faced him, nervous … but unafraid, he realized slowly. Both she and Aman ... neither had any trace of guilt on their faces when they saw him. And he knew he had wronged her. She was not that kind of person. Once she had given her word, she would keep it. It was as simple as that.
The problem was, he thought wryly, he hadn't bargained for getting so emotionally involved, that he would lose his objectivity. That when he so much as saw her with another man, he would lose his cool so completely. He had friends who were married, and their wives mingled freely. Embracing, kissing cheeks, dancing with other men, all that was part of their culture, their 'liberal' society. Why had he lost it so completely on seeing her with a man in a public place, with so many people around ... with the guy's own wife in the vicinity?
He knew why, of course. He himself had not permitted himself to do as much, and seeing another man touch her, however innocently and briefly, had sparked off something primitive and possessive in him, something that he hadn't known he even possessed.
Sighing, he knew he had to make amends. He had to listen to her, hear her out. He went inside to their room, and stood at the door.
Khushi was standing on the terrace, looking blindly out as silent tears coursed down her cheeks, one pale hand gripping the swing, her knuckles white, her shoulders shaking.
Arnav was astonished at the white hot rush of feelings that coursed through him - guilt, mixed with regret, mixed with an almost overwhelming desire to take her into his arms, forget about what he had seen and just hold her to him and wipe her tears.
He came into the room and closed the door behind him. He walked slowly, heavily, out on to the terrace to the swing, and stood close to her, careful not to touch her.
'Khushi," he said, heavily, then as she stayed silent. "Khushi, I'm sorry."
Startled, she turned her tear-stained face to stare at him. He looked back at her seriously.
"I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I know you won't do anything like that. It's just that … I saw you … with him …"
Arnav did not add what he really wanted to say. That when he had seen her smiling with the other man, smiling as she had never smiled with him, spontaneously, freely, that had snapped something in him. That he had wanted to shout that her laughter, her smiles, her tears, all were for him. That he had felt a white hot jealousy when he saw her face lit with emotion she had never shown him, and it was that jealousy that had made him act so uncharacteristically. She was so controlled, so formal with him ... they lived as husband and wife, yet he had never seen her express her emotions openly, as he had seen in that brief glimpse with Aman. Her emotions, her feelings stayed guarded, locked inside her. After all, this was a contract marriage. She had kept her side of the bargain by not letting her emotions into the picture. It was his own fault he seemed unable to do the same.
Khushi shook her head miserably. “No, it’s my fault. It’s always my fault, isn’t it, Arnav? I don’t think enough, I just trust people. I trusted my father when he sent me with that letter. I trusted you when you said that there was no one in your life. And I trusted Aman when he said he needed to meet me. I never think about how it will look, how people can draw the wrong impressions about me. You did that before too, when I brought that letter. And you did it again today. It wasn't your fault, I never meant to hide it from you … but just being there was enough, wasn’t it? For you to think …”
He stood still, appalled at her words. She was right, he thought numbly. He hadn’t been nearly as frank with her as she had been with him, and she had never once questioned him … or doubted him. Even when Lavanya had come for the barsi and he had disappeared with her for so long. He had been alone in a room with Lavanya, but Khushi hadn't uttered a word of reproach, of suspicion, anything. Khushi hadn't questioned him even once. But his jealousy hadn’t let him do that. Even now, thinking of her, alone with that man … he felt the rage building in him again at the mere thought.
But he couldn't tell her how he felt. He didn't want to scare her away. She wasn't ready for it ... for the depth of emotion that had startled him today. He had been startled by his own feelings, Khushi would be terrified. And appalled. He had to calm down ... and think of a way to reassure her too.
He turned her to face him and shook her slightly. "Khushi, what was I to think? What would anyone think? You tell me! You were alone with him, close to him … holding his hand, for heaven's sake … it looked …"
"What did it look like, Arnav?! We were in the garden, in full view of the diners there ... I was never alone with him!" she fired back huskily. "What's more, his wife was there! She had just left! I didn’t break my word to you, Arnav. I promised you when you married me, and I have not broken my word! You're not the only one who is true to your word!"
Arnav sighed. "Then why can't you tell me what you were doing there with him? Or don't I have the right to ask even that? I know I promised you that I would not question you, but you also promised that you would not do anything to compromise the dignity of this house, and my name. You did promise, Khushi. And my wife meeting a strange man doesn’t look good, you know. If daddy was to hear of this, it would upset him, and that might set his recovery back. I can't risk that, you know that. His health is still very fragile."
He hated using his father as an excuse, but he had no choice. He had to retreat, regroup. Khushi could not know the real reason he had fired up.
Khushi turned away, her head drooping on her shoulders, as though she was exhausted.
"I know you can't risk that," she said, bitterly. "That's why you married me, isn't it? For the sake of his health, for Radhika's happiness, for Akash’s guilt - for everybody but yourself! And that's what you want from me, too. Everybody's happiness except your own."
He moved away from her and looked away into the distance. "You knew that when I married you," he reminded her, without looking at her. "Then why these questions today? Why these complaints?"
Khushi came close to him and faced him, her face still tear stained. "Why?" she said furiously. "Why are you so … so good?! Why don't you think of yourself once in a while, just once? Why didn't you marry someone you loved, someone who would be a wife in more than name? No, even in marriage, you had to do a good deed! You had to marry a girl in love with another man, a girl whose brother and father were ready to let her be your keep, a girl who wanted desperately to escape her own home! And you still chose to marry her ... and be the perfect gentleman with her ... you don’t even take advantage of her situation … advantage of your wife!!! What are you? A saint? A masochist? A glutton for punishment? Why don't you think of what you want? Once, just once?!"
"Because the girl I wanted didn't want me," he said, quietly. "Not with all my responsibilities. And I couldn't leave them for her."
He turned and looked at her. "How many girls do you know, who would do as you did?" he asked her, evenly, his tone hiding the deep hurt inside him. "How many young girls would be ready to marry a man with a recently widowed, paralyzed, suicidal father, whom they have to look after night and day? A scamp of a brother, who's getting over his grief in a way my father can't understand, and can't excuse? One for whom I have to make excuses to my father all the time? An orphaned young niece, who is feeling so insecure, that she can't even go to school on her own, who wakes up with nightmares every night? A child for whom she has to be mother and aunt rolled into one, before tasting the joys of her own motherhood, and before even tasting the joys of being a newly wed bride? There are only responsibilities in this house, Khushi, there is no happiness. How many girls would be ready for this life? Only one who is desperate to get out of her own house, her own life. Certainly not the girl I loved, the girl who I thought loved me."
Khushi sat down suddenly on the swing as though paralyzed. The deep hurt in him, that he had tried to hide, was clear to her, clear as day. And with it, another thought came unbidden. No wonder he found it not difficult to stay away from her, not to touch her. He was still in love with Lavanya. Even though Lavanya didn't love him. Not enough to take him with all his baggage.
She swallowed a lump in her throat, marvelling at the hurt that the thought cost her. Once, she had thought, that if only she could tell him that she had fallen in love with him, he might accept her, might grow to like her enough to make their mockery of a marriage into a real one. Now she knew that hope, that dream was futile. Irony, she thought, her lip twisting.
Her burst of anger died out rapidly, a dull grey mist of regret taking its place. She slipped off the swing, and went to him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Arnav, I really am."
She took his hand, and holding his eyes, she placed it on her head.
"I swear to you," she said slowly and clearly. "I swear to you that I have never done, nor will I ever do anything to compromise your dignity, or your name. I met them both there. Aman called to ask me to meet him, but it wasn’t him alone, it was both of them. He called yesterday, told me that Anjali had found out … I spent the whole evening worrying, wondering how … because we hadn’t met for months … but he was just pulling my leg. Anjali's mother has come to stay with them. They wanted to celebrate that, to tell me that. I didn’t tell you yesterday because I was too worried, but I was going to tell you about meeting them, the moment I got back. I did not break my word to you. I will never do that, nor will I compromise your dignity." Or my love, she added, but that last in her mind.
He turned to look at her, and his hand slid from her head to her face, to cup her chin, his thumb caressing her cheek absently. She saw the hurt, the anger fade, his gaze soften and warmth creep in. Without thinking, almost of their own accord, her arms rose around his neck, and her head rested against his chest. She felt his head come down against her shoulder, and they stood for a while in their first embrace.
Khushi felt as if she had come home. She didn't want to move, to break the magic of that moment. Slowly, his arms rose to encircle her, to hold her first gently, then closer still, until she felt as though she was drowning and he was her only lifeline. She clung to him, her arms tightening unconsciously, and she felt her heart start to pick up speed, and the beginning of a slow deep heat start deep inside her. The dull grey mist around her heart swirled and evaporated under the fiery warmth that started curling through her entire body. And somewhere, she felt, she was sure, she felt his heart start racing as well, its drum beat muffled under her ear, his body language change from relaxed to the beginning of arousal, his hands moving possessively, caressingly over her back, smoothing her hair, winding it around his fingers. She felt his warm breath lift her hair, the warmth of his cheek against her, the length of his body along hers, and his arms tightened harder around her waist. This, she thought faintly, with the small part of her mind that could still think, this was what she had been born for, what she had been waiting for … his touch, his hands on her, his lips against her hair, his breath warm against her skin, setting fire to her insides, melting them, burning them … I’ve died and gone to heaven, she thought dizzily.
And then he stepped back. He loosened her arms, and moved away from her, not looking at her, as he fought for control. She flushed, and moved away as well, biting her lower lip hard, to prevent herself from crying aloud. Don't leave me, she wanted to cry out. Hold me. Take me any way you want me. If I can give you comfort, make you forget your faithless love, let me do at least that.
But of course, she didn't say any of what she wanted to. Scarlet, she muttered something about seeing to dinner, and fled from the room.
