Beautiful Girl

Thirty Seven

It's middle of the night when his phone rings and he's roused out of his fitful sleep. It's got to be one of his designers, ones who live for late night creativity and a chance to ruin big boss's sleep because Arnav wants to be involved in the process of coming together of every new collection.
It's got to be that upstart Claude.
Arnav plucked him out of the Cafe he was part timing in to finance his couture dreams.
He grabs the phone and slides his fingers over the cold screen before putting it over his ear.
"How could you?" Comes the vitriolic demand from his speakers and his eyes blow wide open.
He shoves his phone in front of his eyes 'cause God damn he can't be bothered to find his glasses.
The caller ID reads "Khushi".
"How could you, you coward piece of shit?" She hisses at him and he is too gobsmacked to say anything in return.
She sounds like she's sloshed.
"Arnav, I know you're listening, you prick!Are you quiet 'cause your wife is sleeping beside you?"
"What wife? Are you drunk?" He whispers. "Who else have I loved save for you? Who else do I wear this damned ring for if not you?"
"Liar!" She screams. "You're a filthy fucking liar, Arnav. You love me? You left me to rot! Did you love me when you were out and about with that bitch while I sat waiting for you? Did you love me when you married that cunt?"
"I swear on my ma, Khushi," He tells her, urgency in his words and desperation in his tone, "the only one I've ever loved has been you. You're the only one who has slipped a gold band on my finger and I still wear it, I still wear it...."
"But...but they told me about your marriage...." she sounds so lost as she hiccups. "You're playing again, aren't you, Arnav? That game of how fast you can break me? Did your sister put you up to it again?"
"You called me."
"Cause you're trash and you left your kid with his dying mother." She barks at him.
"What kid? I don't have a kid!" He returns heatedly, forgetting to modulate his tone.
You want them though, don't you? Kids who hang on to your hair, who call you daddy and look at you as if you're some goddamned superhero. You want kids with your features and hers. You want her kids.
You want to father her kids.
"How dare you fucking scream at me, you two timing smarmy asshole? I saw him with my own eyes. Held him in my arms. He looks just like you. You think I won't recognize a child of yours?"
You think I won't recognize a child of yours?
"Okay, so what's the name of this so-called child of mine? Who is his mother?"
"Suri Sen. He's Suri Sen's kid. And I'll not tell you his name, you prick. You don't deserve to know."
"You need your mouth washed out with soap, honey. You keep spouting such foul words. And i dont know a Suri. Never met her."
She laughs mockingly and it grates on his ears.
"You think I'll believe you?"
And that, well, that hurts.
"I'll swear on my mother, Khushi," He tells her, suddenly subdued, all the fire inside him gone. Now, he just feels cold. She doesn't trust him.
"Maybe you slept with her once and you don't remember. He's three." She remarks casually and he has to close his eyes.
Does she think she meant nothing to him? That she was just a chapter he closed and moved on?
Does she think he fucked as many women as he wanted once she was gone from their home?
"I am sorry for what I did," He starts. "You don't have to believe me, but it would mean a lot to me if you would just listen. Can you please listen, Khushi?" He knows he's begging, and he would do so over and over again.
He has no pride, no shame when it comes to Khushi. He is prepared to ground himself into dust for Khushi.
"What's that gonna change? I left and you didn't bother to call me back once. You never came after me. Didn't even message me once. Do you know how I managed to stay alive? Do you know how I managed my expenses? Did you never wonder once how I was doing? Why would you when you had her? Why would you think about me when you finally had your sister back? I was a game at first and then an inconvenience to you and nothing more. Atleast, I know that I am not delusional enough to think that I mattered to you..."
"I don't talk to my sister. I live in Paris. She comes to see me once a month and we have dinner where we sit like strangers and dont know what to talk about. I go back to India once a year on the day that was supposed to be our marriage anniversary for legal reasons and get roaring drunk in our empty home to relieve a handful of good memories. I drive by your college in the morning and that's the closest I've been to you in the last three years..."
"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"
"You don't?"
"Fuck off, you prick. I probably won't feel anything even if you're dying!"
"Ouch, Khushi, that was harsh."
"I have even harsher words for you."
"How have you been, mon couer?"
"Flirting in French, are you, Arnav?"
"You don't want me to?"
"Are we going to pretend that what happened didn't happen and this is just another call?"
"We can't?"
"You broke my heart, mon amour. You left me as the template of a discarded lover, a forgotten promise. I had to relearn how to exist again. How do I forget that? How am I supposed to give myself partial amnesia regarding your deeds?"
Mon amour. She called him my love.
"Can't you pretend I am someone new, someone nicer, someone better?"
"And what will that do? Erase your son from existence?"
"For the umpteenth time, my sweet, I don't have a son or any other children."
"But he looks just like your child would." He can hear the longing in her sadness. He knows that yearning as well.
"I dream of our children," He confesses in a whisper that no one is supposed to hear save for her.
"Don't do this, Arnav. Please don't do this," she begs but he doesn't heed her request. He never has.
"Little Toshi who hangs from my hair, a set of twins who are far too independent at six for my liking. The eldest who wants to be a doctor just like his mother..." He ruthlessly croons his dreams to hapless her who can't resist. She never could and he has always taken advantage.
He has always taken a mile when given an inch.
"Don't you dream of our children, Khushi?"
"You bastard," she roars and isn't she glorious? He can take her rage unlike her indifference and sadness. He knows her rage.
"Children?" She asks, "what children should I dream of when you're married to someone else. When you're sleeping beside someone else, fucking someone else?"
"What can i do to make you believe me? Tell me and I will do it. Anything, mon couer. I'll do anything."
"Will you teach me how to forget you? To not search you in faces that I come across and people I meet? Will you teach me how to love another, so I don't feel like half a human being?"
"Ask me to die for you. it will be easier, darling."
"Will you die for me then, Arnav," she whispers.
"In a heartbeat, my love," He tells her sadly.
"Then be here in front of me when I open my eyes in the morning, my sweet. I will end you for once and all..."