Making Her Mine- An IPKKND story.

Chapter 59 - Secret Garden

The soft morning light was filtering through the curtains when Arnav woke up. And even in that confused space between sleep and wakefulness, he knew he had never felt quite so happy before.

Khushi was snuggled in his arms, a sheet covering them both. Their clothes were strewn all over the floor. But the pearl necklace was still around her throat, glowing in the morning light.

As he stared at her peaceful sleeping face, remembering their touches and caresses last night, he felt like his heart would burst.

He held her close, and watched as she stirred, and opened her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked with more than a little concern. Her smile was radiant as she nodded. She didn't recoil from him, like he half expected her to, or react with her usual jumpy nervousness. Instead she snuggled closer, as if this was just right. It felt right.

"We didn't even eat, last night. I had a whole dinner planned, with all the things you like," he said, an arm wrapped around her.

She looked so vexed at this that he had to laugh. "You should have planned the dinner first, before— before all this," she said.

"I didn't plan 'all this'," he said, still amused.

"Well I'm very hungry now."

He extracted his arm reluctantly. The overnight bag she had brought last night was tossed carelessly against the wall near his side of the bed. He slid out of bed and pulled on a pair of slacks he found in the bag, his back to her. "Get dressed. I'll get breakfast ready."

He turned around. Khushi was holding the sheet to her neck, blushing violently as she studied the foot of the bed.

He raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Huh? Oh. Er, nothing." She looked around the room shiftily. She had been looking at him, was what. He chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Ok, now. I'll be downstairs. Come down if you're hungry."

—

For someone who claimed to be hungry, Khushi wasn't eating much. She had emerged downstairs with the blush intact, looking demure in a surprisingly sparkle and pom-pom free yellow salwar kameez. She kept staring off into space, her fingers on the pearl necklace which she was still wearing.

They were sitting across a small table on the patio, all of last night's dinner reheated along with the parathas and toast he had brought for their breakfast spread between them.

"Khushi, you sure you are okay?"

"Huh?" she jumped and snapped out of her reverie.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Arnav put his fork down, and went over to her. "You can tell me." He kneeled by her chair, and reached for her hand, holding it in his. "Is it about last night?"

She lowered her eyes. "You know how to... you've already... and I don't... I've never..."

Oh.

He took her in his arms, and kissed her forehead. "Khushi, I have never felt this way about anyone before. I never imagined that I would. And... I'm yours. All and only yours. You know that, right?"

She nodded, her head pressed against his chest. He stroked her hair.

"And last night? Every detail is etched into my memory. I'll never forget it."

"Me too," she murmured.

—-

"I want to show you something," Arnav said, when they had finished breakfast.

She looked at him questioningly. "There's something else?"

"Yes. That's why I brought you here, actually. "

He led her out of the house from the back, up a small path to a brick wall covered with bougainvillea. It had a small locked door in the middle. He pulled out a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.

The garden had rose bushes along the walls, blooming in all colours, and sprays of flowering plants and green shrubbery beside rocks and winding paths. A magnificent oak stood at the centre, its branches spreading like a canopy overhead. There was a white wrought iron bench beneath the tree, on a small patch of grass. Khushi gasped as she stepped inside after him.

"There's a book, with a garden in it like this..."Arnav said haltingly. "A secret garden. It was— my — mother's favourite book. So, she — she created her own secret garden..."

He swallowed. He didn't normally talk about his mother. He couldn't, because that would lead to questions, that would lead to blinding rage and blinding pain. But this was the girl he had married — the girl his mother had set aside her bangles for.

"Arnav Ji...!" Khushi said, turning around to look at everything . "It's so beautiful."

"We planted that tree together – me and Di — and Mamma."

She slipped her arm in his.

"She — loved gardening."

"Is that why you love your plants?"

"I guess so." He dreaded the questions.

They didn't come.

He led her to the bench, where they sat side by side.

"I never– I – I don't bring people here..."

He could feel her eyes on him. He fixed his gaze  straight ahead, at a rose bush with red blooms swaying slightly in the morning breeze.

"But, for this – for – asking you to marry me – properly, I mean, because I want us to be married, not – I mean," he gulped in lungfuls of rose-scented air. "The stars yesterday were for us to – for your parents, for their – er –"  Blessings? Consent? He didn't know. It was to let Khushi know he wanted to be part of that part of her. "And I thought, we should get – I mean, this is Mamma's special place, where I can – like your stars..."

She understood.

"It feels like I'm meeting her," she said. She still didn't ask the questions he dreaded. She held his arm, and rested her head on his shoulder, seemingly content to just be here.

"She would keep teasing me about her daughter-in-law," he said, finally able to speak about his mother without going too close to the pain. Able to remember her, without thinking of the end. "She was as bad as Di." He shook his head. "I would get so annoyed."

"Thank you for bringing me to meet your Mamma, Arnav ji."

He rested his cheek on her head. Starlings chirruped in the branches above their heads, a boisterous tweeting that sounded like laughter. Why not? Let the birds be happy too.