Head over Heels

Chapter 8 - Khushi (18+)

🎶Piya Basanti - Chitra, Ustad Sultan Khan

The wedding preparations wore on seamlessly for the next few weeks. The Raizadas were a cheery lot, agreeing to the Guptas' suggestions from the tapestries to the flower decorations without complaint.

Nani-ji followed Khushi's lead and concurred to every little detail the latter laid out, reaffirming her trust in Khushi's Lucknowi foundations, joyous at the union with a family from her hometown.

Mami-ji's prickly intervention was diminishing by the day - they could collectively sense her resignation at her beloved son's inevitable nuptials, though her spiked comments occasionally managed to leave a mark.

Khushi participated in the festivities with enthusiasm, it helped in keeping her mind off things save for one.

Khushi hadn't come across Arnav-ji during the handful of times she'd been at Shantivan. It both relieved and disappointed her—her emotions tangling in a web of contradictions. Her resolve to bury her feelings waged a constant battle against the longing to catch a glimpse of him.

There were times when she wandered through the vast halls of the palatial home to deposit wedding accouterments. She would sense a presence, or feel a prickle of heat course through her veins, only to turn around and find the space or hallway empty.

"Chotte has granted me the sole privilege of picking all of his outfits," Anjali-ji proclaimed one day during lunch, rolling her eyes, reflecting her family's exasperation in his lack of participation.

Khushi wondered at this, her thoughts never meandered past his preferred choice of three-piece suits. Irrespective, she couldn't help but envision him in a traditional Indian ensemble, beige or white to bring out the caramel flecks in his eyes...

"Shukla-ji is here," said Anjali-ji, breaking her reverie.

Two men arrived laden with bags of outfits, today's focus was on Sangeeth. Ji-ji was asked to pick for Akash-ji, much to Mami-ji's dismay. Anjali-ji sighed and addressed Khushi while the banter ensued between her grandmother and her aunt.

"Now for Chotte, what do you think of this," said Anjali-ji, picking up a bottle-green piece. Khushi murmured her approval though not entirely satisfied.

Her gaze repeatedly ventured to a beige Nawabi suit, it had metallic brown and gold detailing near the wrists and collar. It was grand and yet subtle, somehow reflecting his personality except for his preference for darker tones. Her fingers instinctively brushed the fabric, her mind racing with vivid images of him draped in the elegant finery.

"We'll take this for Chotte," said Anjali-ji, dropping the green sherwani in the shortlisted pile.

Khushi smiled and relented without objection—after all, what right did she have to choose for Arnav-ji?

Her heart tugged painfully at the thought of Lavanya-ji smoothening the creases on Arnav-ji's chest as he adorned the attire, love and affection reflecting on a mirror, as they embraced passionately...

"You have excellent taste, Anjali," started Mami-ji, making Khushi jump. "Lavanya would've selected that too. But alas, Arnav-bitwa-"

"I'm sure she would have," said Nani-ji with a tight smile. Khushi couldn't help but notice a warning laced in that polite response. Mami-ji didn't broach the subject further.

Khushi gulped a few deep breaths to steady her reeling thoughts. She sensed that something was amiss, but didn't have the nerve to voice her curiosity out loud, too afraid of what the answer might do to her heart.

"I'm going to make some tea," murmured Khushi, getting to her feet. Anjali-ji motioned to join her, it couldn't be clearer that she was tired of the constant banter surrounding her aunt. Ji-ji hopped up too, looking relieved at the intervention.