Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 29

Chapter 29 

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.

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 28

Chapter 28

Khushi smiled at the cheerful couple.

They were sitting in the terrace of the restaurant across the hospital grounds. It was a cheerful place, with small white tables, covered with checked yellow and white tablecloths, and chairs of wrought iron, painted white. A small garden, a riot of brightly coloured flowers and soft green creepers, was at one end of the terrace, sunken a few feet below the level of the terrace. Plants were scattered plentifully in white and sunflower yellow pots all over the terrace, all along the balcony, and along the few steps leading down to the garden. The overall effect was bright and sunny.  

At that time of afternoon, the restaurant wasn't crowded. A few tables were occupied, but the majority were deserted. Khushi, Aman and Anjali sat at a secluded table, out of the direct sunlight.The mood of the place was echoed in the faces of the couple sitting across the table from her.

"I am so happy for you," Khushi said to Anjali, and reached out a hand to cover the other girl's hand. "You must be delighted. This is really good news." 

"Yes, it is ... and we wanted to share it with you," said Anjali, pressing Khushi's hand with her own, her eyes warm. "You were there for us all along in the worst of times, we wanted to share the better times with you as well."

Khushi mock frowned at Aman. "Aman gave me a bit of a heart attack yesterday," she scolded. "He called me here urgently because he said you were upset that we had been hiding your baby's condition from you for so long ... Anjali, you know why ..."

Anjali giggled. "Khushi, I wasn't upset. I know why you did that ... I understand completely. I was a mess back then, I couldn't have taken that added stress. That was just to get you here to meet us. We haven't met you for so long, you've been busy after your marriage, you spend much less time here than you used to ... and we wanted to meet you in person and tell you this good news."

Khushi smiled. “So when did your mother come? Hadn’t she heard about the accident earlier? It’s been months since it happened! I know Aman tried to call them at the time ... what happened?”

Anjali looked a little grim. “Dad didn’t tell her for ages,” she said. At Khushi’s startled look, she went on hurriedly, “oh, not like that. Not because he was still angry. I think they had started getting over their anger quite some time back, but were hesitating to take the first step. But Mummy had been having heart problems, angina, and when Aman called to tell him about the accident, when it happened, she was actually in hospital herself. Dad was scared to tell her for ages, thinking that she wouldn’t be able to handle it. We didn’t know it all these months, but he was actually keeping tabs on my progress quietly. Then a couple of weeks ago, I don't  know what happened to Mummy ... she started getting very restless, she kept telling him that she felt I was in trouble, she wanted to meet me, what if she died without meeting me ever again … she was getting all emotional and Dad finally couldn’t keep it from her any more.”

“So last week, he told her, and then of course, she just couldn’t wait. They rushed over immediately,” went on Aman, and Anjali looked at him proudly and continued. 

“And they saw me … and Aman … and the baby … and oh, Khushi, d’you know what Dad said?! He said … in seven lifetimes I couldn’t have found a better husband for you than the one you chose yourself … this man has stuck by you through so much. Any other man I know would have left you when you lost your leg … but Aman … his love for you has grown even stronger. And he said 'sorry' to Aman, he almost wept … Mummy was in tears too …”

“In short, it was all a melodramatic filmy scenario," Aman said wickedly, and his wife aimed a napkin at him jokingly. “Anyway, after the emotional drama, Dad put his foot down, he said, your mum is staying with you as long as you need her, and I will be here whenever you need me … you are like my own son … wow, Anjali, I didn’t know your parents watched so many Bollywood films! Never heard so many dialogues before … I think I can write my own script now …”

“You’re just flying so high because they praised you so much,” said Anjali indignantly, but she was laughing and Khushi laughed with her.

“Well, he deserves it,” she said, “though I don’t want to give him a swollen head, so I won’t say more, but really, Anjali … he did look after you a lot …”

“I know,” said Anjali, smiling tearfully as she looked at her husband with shining eyes. “He’s the best … the best husband ever …”

Aman smiled back at Anjali, then looked at his watch and gave her a stern look.

"Yes, and now that you have given her the news, yourself! which you insisted on doing, it's time for your physiotherapy session, darling," he said, mock sternly, and she grimaced in pretended annoyance.

"I'm going, I'm going," she said. "Actually, I don't mind the sessions any more. Since the sensation started coming back, the pain has actually decreased. I'll see you later, Khushi. Don't be a stranger now."

She waved a cheerful bye, and left, handling her crutches deftly. Aman looked after her, his face soft. Then he looked back at Khushi.

"She's improved tremendously, hasn't she?" he asked, pride in his face. Khushi nodded.

"She has. And it's all because of you, Aman. You've done wonders for her."

Aman smiled. Khushi looked at him sternly. 

"But, Aman, you gave me a mini heart attack yesterday," she scolded. "How could you?! I spent the whole afternoon and evening worrying about how ..." 

Aman grinned. "Got you there, didn't I?" he asked, teasingly. "I couldn't resist. Told Anjali I would tell you we were hiding something about the baby ... but I knew you would think that ..."

Khushi grimaced at him and shook her head. Aman grinned back. Then he looked serious. "I know I promised not to meet you, Khushi, but this was going to be with Anjali, and she was insistent that we both give you the news together. She's been so happy since her mother came. I couldn't help it, Khushi. I couldn't refuse. She would have wondered why. I'm sorry I broke my word, but this is the first and last time, I promise."

Khushi bit her lip and looked away. Aman looked at her, and his face changed, becoming serious suddenly. He spoke hesitantly. 

"Khushi, I agreed also because I wanted to tell you something else, and I knew I might not get another chance. I have to tell you something, and it's not going to be easy. I …" he stopped and swallowed slightly. Khushi waited, her mouth dry, wondering what was coming. Aman looked away, and then back at her. He stood and looked beyond the tables towards the far end of the restaurant. The small sunken garden beyond the tiled terraced restaurant floor was still deserted.

“Please,” he said softly, motioning for her to follow him. Puzzled, she did. They moved to the far end of the garden, well out of earshot of the other diners, and he turned to face her. His hands absently twisted together as he wrestled with his words, and Khushi waited for him to speak with a sense of foreboding. 

"These last few months," he began carefully. "I haven't seen you at all, and I've spent all my time with Anjali and the baby. I did as I promised you, and I …"

Khushi went pale. "Aman …"

He held up a hand. "No, please let me finish. This is difficult enough for me, as it is."

He turned slightly away to face the creeper covered wall, and absently fingered the delicate leaves of the plants. He looked back at her, seeming to be at a loss as to what to say. Khushi waited, half –fearful at what his next words would be. Aman took a deep breath.

“Khushi, I haven't forgotten you and I never will. What you did for me at a time when I needed help and support the most - I can never forget that, or thank you enough. But … these last few months have shown me something, which I was in danger of forgetting at that time."

He turned around and looked at her directly.

"Khushi," he said, softly. "I love Anjali. I love my wife very, very much. When … all that trouble was happening, … I didn't know whether she would live or die, …whether the baby would live or die … I must have gone a little crazy. I had no right to make you all those promises, to tell you all the things I did. Anjali is my wife, and I love her very much, and I always will. She’s been with me through thick and thin, and I can never ever do anything to hurt her."

He took her hand.

"I have no right to do this, I know. Not after all that I said to you. I'm a heel, a louse, I'm a terrible husband, and more than that, I'm a terrible person. But Khushi, I know your generosity, and your capacity to forgive. Khushi, please forgive me for all that I said to you. I didn't have the right to say it. Blame it on the time, the stress I was going through. You are a very dear friend to me, and you always will be. And I promise you, that as a friend, I will ….we both will …," he corrected himself, "will always be there for you. But … Khushi ..."

Khushi smiled, and put her hand to his lips. "Are you saying," she said, mock-sternly, "that you don't love me any more?"

He looked shamefaced.

"Khushi ... I'm sorry ..."

"But I do," she said, and laughed as his face fell further, and he looked alarmed. "I love you as a friend, as the brother I wish I had, and as the husband of one of the dearest girls I have known. I value your friendship a lot, and I always will."

Aman looked at her disbelievingly.

"Khushi!" he exclaimed, and she smiled.

"Do you think that you're the only one who can pull people's legs?" she countered, and his face relaxed slowly. She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"My friend," she said, slowly, emphasizing the word 'friend'. "My very dear friend, you helped me through a very difficult phase of my life as well. You don't even know how bad things were in my life back then, and how much your support meant to me. Perhaps the fates threw us together at such a time for both of us, when we needed each other. And maybe, because the time was so difficult, and tense, and emotions were running so high, we said things to each other, which neither of us had the right to say. That was why I decided to stay away from you, that’s why I agreed to marry Arnav. I knew then, that I could never, ever break up your home, and I was afraid that I went on seeing you, it would be more and more difficult for me to stay away from you. And later I realised … that I could do that, I could make that decision and take that step, because it wasn’t really love, Aman, that I felt for you. It was affection, a deep gratitude, … a wonder that such a person had come into my life and shown me what love was all about. You restored my faith in love, a faith which had taken a beating at the time. Seeing you and your concern, your love for Anjali and your baby, you made me feel that such a love can exist in this world. You brought hope and positivity into my life, Aman, at a time when I was surrounded by so much darkness that I didn't know where to turn. If you made promises that you had no right to make, so did I. We were both wrong to do what we did, to say what we said. Don't say sorry, Aman. It was my fault as much as yours ... or maybe it was the circumstances that were at fault. I'm not sorry it happened. But I'm even more glad we stepped back when we did."

She smiled at him.

“I do love you, Aman,” she said softly. “I love both you and Anjali. For me, both of you are one. And will always be. You’re not the Aman I love without her, and I pray you will never be without her.”

“Khushi,” he said. He came up to her and held her hand. “I’m sorry …”

“For what, Aman?” Khushi asked. “For showing me what love is, how beautiful it can be? Don’t be sorry. I’m not. I can never be.”

He smiled at her.

“You’ve relieved my mind of a huge burden,” he said softly. “Thank you, Khushi. Thank you for being so generous. You're a wonderful, beautiful loving person and I hope and pray that one day you find that love in your own life …” he stopped as she flushed slightly, then his smile grew wider.

“You have,” he said. He turned her face to him. “Khushi, you have, haven’t you? Who is it? Is it …?”

He held her hands as she nodded and blushed deeply, admitting to herself in words for the first time, something she had known for a long time.

“I love Ar …”

Something, a movement behind her, made her turn. Arnav was standing on the stone steps looking at both of them.

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 27

Chapter 27 

The other man nodded, and Arnav left.

But he couldn't concentrate on his work. In his mind, he kept replaying the phone conversation between Khushi and Aman again and again. She hadn't seemed surprised to hear his voice, he thought grimly. Only surprised that he had called at the house. She had been visiting the hospital regularly, he knew. She had old patients, she had told him, and he had not objected. She had registered for her thesis at his insistence, after all. He couldn't possibly have stopped her from going. Even if he had wanted to, which he hadn't. Was that all a cover to meet Aman? Surely Khushi was not that deceitful?

Arnav shook his head. He was being unfair, he knew. Surely she was not deceitful at all. She had told him frankly about Aman when he had first met her, and had promised to keep away from him after marriage. She couldn't ... she wouldn't break her word. Not the Khushi he knew.

Or would she? If she was still in love with him?

But she had promised.

Arnav frowned and tried to get her out of his mind. He dragged his mind back to work, but it was a struggle to keep it there. It was a relief when afternoon came, and Vijay Dhawan came back, with a sheaf of papers, and big with news.

He entered Arnav's room, quietly. Arnav took one look at him and his face changed.

"Out with it," he said, briefly.

"I've got some stuff," said Vijay. "I think you'd like it. Take a look at this, sir. The bank manager was fairly cooperative. Turned out that his wife had been a patient of your wife's, after a fairly nasty accident last summer, and they had both grown very fond of her. He met her father, and the same thing struck him, that she was very different. Also, he didn't like the way they seemed to be living off her earnings, he said. Mrs. Raizada never went to the bank. Her father did, or sometimes her brother. They were very regular. Every single month, the day after her pay check was deposited, they were there, regular as clockwork, to make a monthly withdrawal. He first noticed it after his wife came back home, and he wanted to give Mrs. Khushi some gift as a token of thanks ... he realised then that her account was in his bank. She refused the money, but he kind of kept an eye on her account since then. And he was pretty surprised to see a few things."

Arnav frowned, as he sifted through the papers. He went through them rapidly, and then started going through the whole lot slowly again. He shook his head slightly in puzzlement, then bent to open a drawer, from which he withdrew a slim file. From it he pulled out a single sheet of paper - his and Khushi's marriage certificate.

He looked at it, then at the papers in his hand, and shook his head again.

"Something doesn't quite add up," he muttered. The man sitting on the other side of his desk looked at him sharply.

"You see that? It's strange, isn't it?"

Arnav nodded grimly. "There's more to this than meets the eye," he said. "Why are the house and the bank accounts all in Khushi's name? And these regular deposits every month? What about them? Where do they come from? They start long before her salary. Anyway, her salary starts here - that's listed. All the payments are in Khushi's name, as well. The father and brother aren't mentioned at all. Even if the brother is not the real brother, wouldn't the father be mentioned? She was underage when the payments start - she would need a local guardian. And she would be her father's ward."

"Is she?"

Arnav looked at the other man sharply. "What are you getting at?"

"Look closely, sir," replied Vijay Dhawan. "Look at the father's name on the marriage certificate, and on the ration card."

Arnav looked. And looked again. Then he whistled.

"So that's it!"

"Certainly seems to be," agreed Vijay. "And look at this picture again, sir."

He showed Arnav the framed picture of  Khushi's father, mother (who looked exactly like Khushi) and the two children - the little boy between the two, and the baby girl in Khushi's mother's lap.

"Now take it out of the frame," he said, and proceeded to do so. "Look at the edges closely," he continued. "There are two more people in the picture, and it's been cut to exclude them. One is on this side of Mrs. Raizada's mother, probably a man, probably her real father, and one is on the other side of the man she thinks is her father. That one is definitely a woman. You can see she is wearing some red clothes - has to be a woman. Probably this man's wife, and that is their son in the picture. Now why would anyone cut out the extra people in a family photograph? Either because they were not part of the family ... or ... " he paused and looked at Arnav.

"Or because they are two different families posing together ... and they want to hide that fact."

Arnav whistled slowly as the meaning of Vijay’s words sank in. He looked at Vijay with dawning comprehension.

"So you're saying ..." he said slowly, "this is not her real father and brother. This is Khushi and her mother ... but these two ..." 

The other man nodded. Arnav let out a deep breath, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"How long have they kept up this?" he asked. "And why? There has to be something involved. Some money, or blackmail. Why this elaborate pretense? It doesn't make any sense. What have they got out of it? How long have they kept this up? A long time obviously. Khushi doesn't remember her father, that's for certain, how else would this guy …?"

“There are a couple more things, sir,” said Vijay. “Mrs. Khushi’s father moved to this house when she was around two years old, with the two children. He was alone – no wife. All the neighbours in the area only know them since then, but one person gave me a lead that they lived earlier in a chawl. I checked out chawls within a few kilometer radius – found one where one longtime resident, an old lady, remembered the names and recognized Mrs. Khushi’s mother from the picture, but not the father. She seemed to remember that this Shashi Gupta was … well, if not a complete alcoholic, at least, he wasn’t too far off from it. And the reason she remembered them was simple ... they were both very good looking. She said he was a very good looking fellow, who always acted as though he was too good for the chawl. Mrs. Khushi's mother was beautiful ... the most beautiful girl the chawl had ever seen, she said. They made a beautiful couple, and everyone admired them, but felt sorry for the mother because she was so obviously unhappy, and the guy drank. This lady lost touch with the family when they moved away, but she knew that this fellow started drinking after his father-in-law turned the family away – apparently he made his displeasure and disappointment quite well known! But she did say that there was only one child, although she didn’t remember if the child was a boy or girl. But this guy in the picture ... she was sure he wasn't the father."

Vijay looked at his notes and then back at Arnav. 

"So now – the facts we have are - around the time Mrs. Khushi was two, her mother died, and apparently soon after, her real father also disappeared – and this guy moved with the two children to the new house. That is, of course, if we’re right and this guy is not her real father.

But how this guy and his son stepped into the picture, is still a mystery. How is it that Mrs. Khushi remembers her mother - her death, at any rate, and not her father. Was he not with them at the time, that she didn't remember him, and know this guy and his son for imposters? Is this Shashi Gupta an imposter at all, or are we jumping to conclusions, based on this name and initial business? And how and why did this money keep coming in? It's been coming in since the time this account was opened, that is almost twenty two years ago. Is it from the grandfather at all? If so, and considering that he obviously cut off the family fairly comprehensively, why did he keep giving the money - was he blackmailed into it, or what? That part I haven't been able to find out. The bank manager will not give me the name of the person who paid the money. You'll have to pull strings for that. My reach is not that far."

"Your reach is far enough," said Arnav, grimly. "Beat it out of those two."

Vijay nodded. "I needed your permission to do that."

Arnav nodded. "If they're not related to Khushi, I don't give a damn about what you do," he said, grimly. "Break their bones, for all I care - I don’t want to know. Just get the truth. They've given her enough grief. It's obvious she had no clue about this money. Or about the house being hers. Last night …" he stopped, and swallowed slightly.

Vijay waited for him to go on. When he didn't, Vijay got to his feet.

"I'll get back to you when I have more," he promised, and Arnav nodded, lost in thought. 

Last night, he thought. Last night, dinner had been a light-hearted affair - for once. There had been smiles and laughter, because Radhika had a fancy dress party in her play school, and the discussion had been fast and furious as to what costume she should wear, eventually degenerating into complete and hilarious nonsense. They had all taken part, even Akash, and had risen from the table amid general laughter. Later at night, when they were alone in their room, Khushi had been forlorn, lonely, and he had asked her why, surprised at her change of mood after the evening.

"I saw family life," she had said. "For the first time, I saw family life. Arnav, what will I do when I leave here? I have nowhere to go! I don't even have a roof over my head. I won't go back to my father's house. He and Shyam tried once to sell me, they'll do it again. I can't go back. Where will I go? I have no one I can call my own. No one. The people I thought were mine, however they were, whatever they were - I'm scared even to be under the same roof as them now."

He had tried to comfort her, but it was difficult. He ached to take her into his arms and hold her tight, comfort her with his touch and his warmth. But with the memory of the afternoon's phone call fresh in his mind, he couldn't even do that. She didn't want his comfort, he had thought, and he had stayed away from her, his hands clenched by his side, as he fought the urge to gather her close.

I have nowhere to go, no roof over my head, she had said. How he longed to tell her that her house was hers, and only hers. She could kick her father and brother out of it, and keep them out - and now it seemed they were not even her father and brother, after all. He remembered what he had asked her when she had come the first time to his office with the letter offering her as collateral. Are they your real father and brother? Well, he hadn't been so far off the mark after all.

Arnav looked at Vijay Dhawan again, his face grim.

"I mean it," he said. "I don't care what you do, but I want the truth."

Viajy nodded. "You'll get it, sir," he said, confidently. "They're small time tricksters and bullies. I don't think it will take them long to crack. I'll leave for Nagpur tomorrow."

Arnav nodded, and Vijay left discreetly.

Arnav sat for a while, and then prowled restlessly around his room. He knew why he was so restless, and unable to concentrate. In his mind, he was remembering that dratted phone call, and his imagination was running wild, visualizing his wife and Aman. Her friend, her boyfriend? Maybe even her lover? No, he thought, she had promised. Not her lover.

Her couldn't sit like this, he thought. He was accomplishing zilch, as far as work was concerned, so he might as well leave early.

He called home, to ask if Khushi was there. Shantitai answered the phone.

"No, she isn't back yet," she answered Arnav. "She went to the hospital. She had a few patients to see, she said. Radhika is at a birthday party next door, so bhabhi went."

Arnav looked at the phone, hesitating. Should he call her mobile? Khushi always kept it off at the hospital, he knew. And if she was with Aman, would she even answer it, he wondered grimly.

No, he thought to himself, he was being unfair. Whether she was with Aman or not, she would make sure she was available for Radhika. He knew that – was more sure of that than of anything else he had been in his life. Pursing his lips, he called the hospital.

"She's with a patient," he was told. She could be called if it was urgent.

Which patient, he wanted to ask, but didn’t. He already knew the answer, he thought grimly – thanks to that wretched phone call he had overheard.

He picked up his briefcase and his coat, and left abruptly. If she was with Aman, he wanted to see her, he thought savagely. She had promised. She had promised, and he had trusted her.

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 26

Chapter 26 

Khushi was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up and her head resting on them when Arnav entered their room. He looked at her, white sari crumpled, hair tangled, her cheeks tear stained, and sighed. Gently he closed the door and walked to her.

She felt the bed creak and give way as he sat down close to her. He smoothed her hair gently, stroking it away from her face.

She sniffed inelegantly, and sat up. Wordlessly, he put his arm around her and held her close. She snuggled against him, and like a child, swiped at her tears with her fists. Arnav put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to face him. She looked at him sadly.

"I've failed with Akash," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Arnav. No matter what, he'll never accept anyone in your mother's place. He's still hurting, he's still not healing. I thought he was healing, Arnav. He started going to college, he's taking his exams, he's even started going out with his friends. But he's not doing it because he's healing. He's doing it because he hates me. That's not what I had to do. What can I do, Arnav? What more can I do?"

Arnav sighed.

"Don't torture yourself," he said gently. "You haven't failed, Khushi. He's carrying the biggest burden, remember? One of guilt, with his sorrow. He was driving the second car, he feels responsible, at least partly, for whatever happened, and that's what is making it more difficult for him to forget, more than dad or Radhika. And at least, now he accepts Shantitai - earlier, even she was pushed away, because she tried to take mummy's place. Give him some more time. And just keep doing what you’re already doing. He needs it – he doesn’t know it, but he needs you."

Khushi shook her head and moved away from Arnav’s confining arm. He looked at her steadily.

"It's just been a few months, Khushi. Do you remember what I said when I asked you to do this? I said it might take six months, a year, even two. I'm ready to wait, Khushi. This ... what he's at ... where he is now ... this is a hundred times better that what he was a year ago. I've seen the worst of Akash, Khushi ... believe me, you've achieved a lot already. Give him time."

Khushi looked at Arnav unsteadily.

"And you? Are you ready to wait? To keep your own life on hold indefinitely? Arnav ..."

He looked away, his face changing, his eyes cooling.

"This is my life, Khushi. My life's not on hold. A lot changed a year ago and my life changed too. I'm not on hold. I've just taken a different path. Akash has to do the same ... and he has to understand that. He still has a lot of growing up to do. But he'll get there." 

Khushi swallowed, and looked away from him. A different path. A path away from the girl he loved, a path which he shared with a contract wife. A temporary wife. But maybe Akash needed someone else.    

“Maybe,” she said slowly, not looking at Arnav, her voice not very steady, “maybe … if Lavanya was here …”

Arnav interrupted her harshly.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said, and his voice was hard, unforgiving. She clenched her hands on the bedspread, trying to stop their trembling. She had to say this - he had brought her here to do a job – she had to do it to the best of her ability.

“It might help Akash …” she tried again, and Arnav stood up abruptly, his anger now palpable.

“I said – it’s not going to happen. Leave it, Khushi. Akash needs more time. That’s all. He needs you. No one else. And even if he does … Lavanya’s not coming back. That chapter is over.”

His voice was as icy as it had been the first time she had met him, though his anger wasn’t directed at her this time. What had happened between him and Lavanya, she wondered miserably? They had been missing the latter part of the evening, after the prayer meeting - she had noticed. Akash had just confirmed it, had taken pleasure in implying that Arnav and Lavanya were still as close as before. And one part of her had been terrified that Arnav would come back and tell her that her job was over, that the original claimant to her place was back. From Arnav's mood, his tone, it was obvious that a reconciliation had not happened. But did he want it to? 

Still, she didn’t dare to say more. She looked miserably down at the bedspread, knotted and creased under her nervous fingers, and gave a start of surprise when his hand covered hers. Gently. Startled, she looked up – straight into his hazel eyes close to hers. They were soft, understanding - the ice had faded.

“Give him some more time,” he said gently, softly, his anger gone, and gave her a half-smile. “And cut yourself some slack too – okay?”

She nodded, smiling nervously back. He was very close, she could feel his warm breath on her face, and her wretched heart quickened in response. Her face flushed, and her eyes dropped. She felt him look at her for a long moment, then he stepped back.

"I think you promised to show a certain little girl some stars," he told her. "Shall we go down?"

 ******

Later at night, Khushi tucked Radhika into bed, and sat till the little girl fell asleep. Then she slowly walked down the corridors, her steps automatically taking her past Akash's room, as they had every night the last few months.

His door was open, unusual for him. She stopped indecisively, then hesitantly peeped in.

The room was empty. The bed was neat - he hadn't been to bed yet. Books and papers were strewn across his table, as though he had been studying, but there was no one there.

Where is he, she thought frantically. Tomorrow is his last exam, he should be here, studying. Is he still upset about this afternoon?

She walked in, looked around. Empty. The windows leading into the garden were locked. The bathroom was empty. Hurriedly, nervously, she checked everywhere, then, hands trembling, she quickened her pace out of the room, back into the corridor. Where was he? She had to call Arnav.

She half walked, half ran into the corridor, and then stopped dead. There, standing looking steadily at her, arms folded across his chest, a somber look on his face, was Akash.

"Where… where … were you?" she whispered. "I got so worried … it's late, and your last exam is tomorrow …"

"I couldn't study," he replied, quietly, unfolding his arms and coming towards her. "I was sleepy, and tired, and hungry. Shantitai didn't get my coffee yet, so I went to look for you. Bhabhi, I'm very hungry. Please get me something to eat?"

She stood frozen to the spot as he came up to her. It was the first time he had called her that. Behind him, Arnav emerged from his study, saw Akash and stopped dead. Akash came up to Khushi, took her hands in his own, and looked at her.

"Khushi bhabhi, please?" he asked again, and held her hands together in his own, holding them folded between his, in an unspoken gesture of apology and pleading. 

Khushi nodded unsteadily, her lips curved in a trembling smile. Akash looked at her, his eyes moist, and he held her hands tighter still. 

"I'm sorry ..." he whispered with difficulty. "I'm really sor ..."

She stopped him with a finger and a shake of her head. Her eyes met Arnav's, and she smiled through her tears, as he smiled back.

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

A few days later 

The phone shrilled, its ring breaking the stillness of the afternoon. Khushi, passing by, nearly jumped out of her skin at the suddenness of the sound. Smiling at her own foolishness, she moved to pick up the phone. She had to juggle the papers she was carrying in order to pick up the receiver, and Arnav, sitting in his room upstairs, frowned at the continuing ring. He picked up the phone just as Khushi spoke into the receiver with a slightly breathless "Hello?"

Arnav grimaced and made to put down the phone. His hand stayed where it was at the sound of the voice at the other end.

"Hello, Khushi?"

"Aman?!" exclaimed Khushi. "What are you …? Why are you calling me here? I've told you not to call me at home! Call me in the hospital!"

"I know," said Aman, "but this was urgent, Khushi. I need to see you. Anjali seems to have found out about …"

Khushi gave a muffled exclamation and interrupted him.

"I'll meet you tomorrow afternoon at the hospital," she said, rapidly. "3 o'clock. I can't talk now."

She put the phone down, and Arnav slowly disconnected it at the extension, his brow furrowed into a grim scowl.

 *******

The next day, Arnav and Vijay Dhawan went to Khushi's old house. All the rooms were open, so were the cupboards, so going through the few things there was no problem. Khushi had packed away most of the things before her marriage anyway. The two men searched through what had been Khushi's brother's room, and then through Khushi's father's room.

Tucked away in a small drawer in Khushi’s father’s room, was a family photograph. Arnav looked at a much younger, smarter version of Khushi's father. Drink and debauchery and time had taken their toll, he thought. The man in the photograph was barely recognizable in the haggard, unkempt face of the man he remembered meeting here, not so long ago.

Arnav looked again at the photograph. There was a little boy, about three or four years old standing next to the man, wide-eyed and innocent, dressed neatly in a simple T shirt and shorts. Next to him was a young woman who could only have been Khushi's mother.

Arnav drew in his breath sharply. The resemblance was uncanny - it was like looking like Khushi herself. The woman must have been about the same age as Khushi was now, he thought, and he looked at the little baby girl in her arms with amusement. She was round and fair and adorable. Her grandfather must have been hardhearted in the extreme to have turned away that little doll, he thought, grimly, and gave the photograph to Vijay.

"You look through the rest of the place," he said, rapidly. "Look for papers, birth certificates, oh, anything. I'll be in the office. I'll wait for you. Go to their bank manager too - here's the name of the bank they used. Try to get their bank statements, deposits, anything which shows where they were making their money. Especially any education funds for Khushi or her brother."

The other man nodded, and Arnav left.