Making Her Mine- An IPKKND story.

Chapter 29 - Descent

Arnav went to the room when Garima Aunty emerged a few minutes later. He picked up his T-shirt without looking at Khushi and went to change.

When he returned, she was already ready with her clothes and left the room wordlessly.

How easily he had said that he wanted her to speak to him nicely if he won the bet to stay with her in Buaji's house. And she had said that they would return to Shantivan tomorrow. If they did, then he won the bet. He couldn't imagine a worse thing than making her speak to him nicely, with that look in her eyes or in that voice that betrayed how badly he had broken her heart.

"What are you doing?"

He had flung his clothes in his luggage bag and was putting his files and computer into the computer bag.

"I- I can't stay here anymore, Khushi. I have to go."

"What?"

"I can't stay. I can't— I can't take it anymore. I'm going to Shantivan."

"Arnav-ji?" She looked angry now. "You can't leave in the middle of the night— Buaji and Amma—"

"Just—bring whatever I've forgotten, will you? And—tell Aunty and Buaji—tell them an emergency came up— at work. Tell them whatever."

"But—what happened? Did something happen?"

"I can't bear living in this house anymore, Khushi. Don't you understand?"

"But I told you, we can go back tomorrow!" Her anger had given way to confusion, seeing how agitated he was.

"I can't stay here a moment longer. I need to go."

He picked up his bags and strode out of the door, out of the front door, tossed the bags into the back seat of his car, and drove off, wheels squealing.

He knew he was hurting her either way. That was the price you paid for loving Arnav Singh Raizada. Pain. But he couldn't let her lose this bet. He couldn't force her to be civil to him. He couldn't bear to be near her, tolerating him after what he had done to her.

He drove furiously through the night, not heading home, but aimlessly through the streets of Delhi. He had robbed her of her dreams, her peace of mind, her happiness.

Would she come back to him after this? He didn't know. And for how long? He had bound her to a farce of a marriage for six months. Had he hurt her so badly that it was irreparable? Would her voice betray that pain of shattered dreams, forever? Or would she leave him and figure out a way to find her happiness again?

He knew he hadn't really left her with much choice. He had robbed her of her future. A six-month marriage. If she wanted an out, it would be worse for her than for him. They would have to explain to everyone what had happened. Like she said, it would drive Payal and Akash apart. Or maybe Akash would distance himself after hearing what Arnav had threatened Khushi with.

But then what? Would she be able to live a peaceful life as a divorcee? Would she be happier away from him? She loved him. Once, maybe, she loved him. Or at least, she had dreamt of a love. And he had stamped on that, not once, not twice, but over and over again. Once, he had shattered her heart so completely it had got her to agree to an engagement with a man she didn't love. And even as she was trying to heal, he had broken her heart again, numerous times, taunting her at every turn. And still, she had recovered and dared to fall in love with him again. And then he had broken her heart again, in the worst way possible. He was like a dark flame, a curse that threatened to consume anyone who had the misfortune of loving him.

He remembered how he had kissed her on the cheek on the day of Akash and Payal's mehendi. He had known that he extinguished her smiles, and still he had pursued her. The bindi he had stuck on a mirror and showed her. A promise. How happy he had been then. He had believed that he could make her happy. Would letting her be make her happy? Did she still love him? Was she ever going to be happy now that his path had crossed with hers?

No, he needed time to think. He needed to head home, get into bed, and sleep. He would make his excuses tomorrow. To his family and to her family. Not to her— to Khushi he would not make any excuses. He would tell her everything— always the truth. He would let her choose whatever she wanted. He would let her be happy, however she wanted.

But tomorrow. He couldn't think anymore tonight.

He abruptly changed gears, deciding to head home when he saw the car behind him. It was driving at full speed and had its high-intensity beams on, almost blinding him. It came straight at him. He pulled to the side and stopped, deciding to let it drive past before he turned. Drunk driver, probably.

But the car screeched to a halt next to his. A man with a pot belly and a mustache emerged from the car and headed straight for him.

Arnav was still trying to figure out what the man wanted when he found the driver's side door being yanked open. Before he could react, a blinding pain shot through his head. Intense pain— pain like he had never known before. The bright light from the other car began to dim. They became spots winking inside his head. He felt himself being pulled from the driver's seat.

There was something wet on his neck. Wet and sticky. He slid to the ground, the tree branches against the sky blurring. Then, another blow. Pain that seemed to rip him apart.

And then, nothing.