Beautiful Girl

Part Twelve

"You should sleep. How are you going to revise your Physics tomorrow if you don't sleep?" He tries again, but only sighs meet his ear.
He's lying on the hotel bed in Paris waiting for this infernal night to end so that he can catch his flight tomorrow morning.
The clock reads 11:30.
She's already eighteen according to her time zone, but he's waiting for the clock to reach twelve in his room when he wishes her happy birthday.
"Khushi? Did you have dinner?"
"Hmm."
"Are you angry at me?"
"No," She replies instantly.
"You don't wanna talk to me?"
"No!" She sounds scandalized.
"Then why have you been playing mum since Aman dropped you at hotel yesterday?"
He waits for her answer, not expecting it certainly, so he's a little surprised when sentences follow her sound of her exasperation.
"What is this between us?" She asks timidly, belying her age and he's tempted to rush in and reassure, but something stops him. "What makes me trust you so much that I run to you first? Is it because I-" She stops and takes a deep breath before continuing, "-used to have no one and now you're the only one I have? What makes you care for me, Arnav? And this is care, is it not?"
Ah, they anticipate each other to such a degree that he sometimes forgets that they do occasionally need to have conversations.
"Does it require a label, a name, this thing between us? Is it not enough that you're Khushi and I am Arnav and I open my arms for you to run to me whenever you want? I will be whatever you need me to be, Khushi. I don't need a designated label before I take care of you... "
"Why? What makes you want to take care of me?" She sounds scared.
He doesn't want her to be scared ever.
"Do you want me to put it in words, Khushi?" He asks gently. "'Cause I will if you want me to. Only when you want me to."
Sniffles reach his ears. He has made her sad.
"I am sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn't have-"
"Why the fuck are you apologizing, you idiot? I am happy," She manages to shout at him through her sobs.
"Guess what, jailbait?" He says after a while. "You're no longer a jailbait. Happy birthday, Khushi."
"It has been my birthday for over five hours, you asshole," She howls. "I thought you forgot!"
She's crying in earnest now.
"Was this why you were barely saying a word? 'Cause you thought I forgot your birthday?" His asks, disbelief evident in his tone.
"You're a nasty man, Arnav Songh Raizada!" She's probably scowling at the phone.
"And you're the sweetest, sweetheart. I got you a backpack from Vuitton."
"That's my gift?"
"Maybe," He hedges. He's sporting a huge ass smile and his cheeks hurt.
Who would've thought one day his fucking face will feel sore because of smiling?
Not him, certainly.
"I thought gifts were supposed to be a surprise thing," She complains.
"And I thought NEET aspirants needed to sleep in between their studies," He counters.
"You're no fun, Arnav. I will cruise through the exam," She protests.
"Once I get you in my sights after I return, Khushi, we are going to have a long talk about routine and discipline."
"Says the diabetic who skips meals," She retorts promptly.
They languish into companionable silence.
He wonders about what will happen tomorrow. He wonders where she's going to live.
He wonders if the plans they made are mere fantasies.
This world is wicked and hungry and it delights in trying to gobble up people like Khushi, people it thinks are weak and vulnerable to fall prey to it easily.
"Arnav?"
"Hmm."
"Thank you. I don't feel sad about my birthday today. I miss mum and dad, but I don't feel like crying," She confesses, her voice a whisper he has trained himself to hear.
"I am glad, Khushi. Go to sleep now," He chides, knowing she has been awake whole night keeping him company because the silence and the shadows of night don't let her sleep peacefully, knowing they bother him in same vein.
"I am scared of closing my eyes, Arnav. What if all of this is a dream and when I wake up after sleeping, I go back to the same old house without anyone in world to call my own?"
"I am scared all the time of going back to being that helpless child who could do nothing but watch his mother die," He admits, for it is easy to lay bare his demons.
She has demons of her own and she doesn't judge him for his.
"We are fucked up, aren't we, sweetheart?"
"Well, we can be fucked up together. It's rather fun than being the only one," She says, a yawn on the heels of her answer.
"Good night, Khushi."
"Well, its more like 'Good Morning, Khushi' here, but who cares? Sweet dreams, Arnav."
They fall asleep with their phones pressed to their ears and the thought of exorbitant phone bill doesn't even enter Arnav's head.

~~

He tries calling her before boarding. Her phone rings and rings, but she doesn't pick up.
Soon, the announcement that they're closing the gates forces him to rush to catch his flight.
He's restless and anxiety swirls in him like milkshake in a blender and he resorts to emailing Aman to check on her for his peace of mind.
He tries passing his time by watching a movie only to be reminded that were he watching this with Khushi, she would have curled into him like a cat and proceeded to run a commentary.
When his plane touches down on Indira Gandhi International, all he wants is to exit it before everyone else and just jump in his car and drive to the hotel where Khushi is staying.
He switches his phone on when he's waiting to claim his bags and a flood of notifications blindside him for a moment.
There are fifty five missed calls from Aman, ten from Khushi, not to mention a whole host of messages by Aman urging him to check his phone.
What the fuck?
He dials Aman and call is picked even before a full ring.
"Shit, Arnav, you need to come here fast!"
"What is it?"
"Khushi is on a warpath," Aman hisses and his heart sinks to his stomach like a stone in hands of an unskilled man trying his hand at stone-skipping.
"Where are you?"
"At RM."
His House of cards is coming down around him and for a moment he can't breathe.
"Your Di will be here within an hour. Mamiji called her," Aman informs him as he runs to the parking, dragging his bags behind him.
"Don't let Khushi leave, Aman," He instructs his friend as he dumps his luggage in the boot and slids in the driver seat.
"Man, Arnav! Payal's cowering behind Mamiji and Aakash. Khushi slapped the shit outta her, not to mention pulled out a chunk of her hair. Payal's going to have a bald patch." There is fascination in Aman's voice, a kind of awe that makes Arnav's hackles rise.
"Why did Khushi go to RM?"
He is bewildered. He has no clue what the hell happened in span of fifteen hours to make Khushi venture to RM.
She's not a violent person. She might hate Guptas and dislike Payal, but she isn't vindictive by nature.
"You don't know?" Aman asks.
"Don't know what?"
"You seriously have no idea?"
"About what?" Arnav growls in frustration.
"Dude, she's saying Guptas emptied out her bank accounts and sold her parents house."
He brakes his car abruptly in shock.
This is the end of world as he knows it...