Making Her Mine- An IPKKND story.

Chapter 4 - Chasm

Khushi didn't show up at AR at lunchtime.

Arnav had been staring at the door all morning, waiting for her to come. He would ask her to come to his cabin, and they would talk. But his lunch, the one he hadn't ordered but got delivered anyway, had appeared on his table sometime when he had left his office. He had called Shukla, amazing the receptionist by asking her to transfer the line to the canteen.

"Where is Khushi?"

"Khushi bhab- Madam- didn't come today. She sent the tiffins to me."

She didn't leave the house today, then? Maybe she wanted more time with Shyam. To plan whatever they were planning now. For some reason, Arnav couldn't work up the rage. He knew it wasn't true. She hadn't come to AR because of what had happened last night between them. Not because of Shyam.

Should he take her something, a sort of peace offering, so that their conversation didn't become a shouting match like it always did? No, he wasn't going to offer her gifts! He could just call her now, figure out where she was, and when they could finally talk.

She didn't answer his call.

Arnav couldn't focus at work at all. It irritated him that this one woman could completely ruin his day. He left early, cancelling everything he could, dumping the rest, somewhat guiltily, on Akash, who looked more concerned than annoyed about the extra work.

"You look tense, Bhai. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I have a headache." Arnav had lied. It wasn't even a lie; he really had a headache now.

When he got home, he looked all over for Khushi, but she wasn't to be seen anywhere.

"Hari Prakash!" He called. "Where is Khushi?"

Hari Prakash didn't know. Apparently, she had been out all day.

Out all day. Maybe with Shyam.

"Di, where is Jijaji?" He asked when he saw Di in the kitchen. She looked puzzled. "At work, I suppose. Why Chotay? Did you want something?"

"No, it's okay... do you know where's Khushi?"

"I think she went to Buaji's house. She's not at home much these days, busy with her dabba service and everything, you know? Chotay is something wrong? Khushi-ji looked so unhappy this morning. Are you two fighting again?"

Arnav clenched his jaw and turned away from his sister. "No, nothing is wrong." And he strode up the stairs to get away from Di. He sat fuming in his room, trying to look through his emails and reply to them, but she didn't show up, and he couldn't get work done.

She wasn't there at the dinner table in the evening. Shyam the weasel was there, however. Arnav went back upstairs and called her phone. No answer.

"Where's Khushi?" Arnav asked, returning to the table and noticing Shyam pay attention, a quick gleam of interest.

"She had dinner early," Nani said placidly, picking up a couple of rotis. "She's preparing for some work. She didn't tell you?"

Everyone at the table was looking at him.

"No," he replied, grudgingly. "Everyday she's doing something new. She didn't answer my call—"

Di giggled at this. "Oh, you're missing her! She's in the small guest room upstairs, Chotay. Go talk to her."

He wasn't missing her, he wanted to snap back. But his body hadn't even waited for his mind to act—he was already on his way upstairs, followed by a smattering of giggles from his family.

The small out-of-the-way guest room upstairs had been cleaned. Khushi was stuffing a bedside lamp into the cupboard, which already held another lamp, some books, two vases, and a sculpture one of his clients had given AR years ago. Things that had been placed around this room.

"What are you doing?"

As always, she jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I don't need to tell you."

Why did he even bother asking?

"This is my house. I have a right to know what you're doing in one of its rooms."

She sighed. "I'm planning to give tuitions to some children from Laxmi Nagar. For extra money. In the evenings, after they are done with school and homework. They'll come here and study with me for two hours. I've arranged for their transport; no one here will be bothered."

"What? Why?"

"To make extra money, I just said."

"Why do you need money?"

"Everyone needs money."

"That's not what—why—I can give you money. And you have that—dabba service."

"Well, it's better to have an additional income. And I will not be in the room with you in the evenings, so we won't have to see each other. By the time I finish, you'll be asleep."

That stung, unexpectedly. Hadn't he told her exactly that, this morning? That he wished he could breathe in his own room without her there? But she didn't want to be at the same space as him either. And she meant it.

"Pick up the phone when I call you," he snarled, unable to think of something better to say, and strode out.