Head over Heels ☑️

Chapter 27 - Arnav

🎶 Aadat - Nescafe Basement S5

Arnav stormed out of the villa gates, his mind a blur of fury. He didn't bother summoning a buggy—his feet carried him forward through the darkness. Only the moonlight and scattered stars pierced the thick shadows, casting fleeting glimmers of silver through the mangrove trees.

He didn't care where his feet took him. There was only one path that would lead him to the far end of the island.

She dares...

Arnav seethed, the echo of her words—her questioning their marriage—cut through him like a jagged knife. The vile accusation burned in his mind, setting it ablaze. How could she think so little of him? And to think she had the audacity to sympathize with that sleazy dirtbag, Raghu Verma.

A wave of fury and jealousy surged within him, hot and corrosive, like liquid fire. Of all the people Khushi could expend her efforts on—why him?

His footsteps slowed as lights flickered softly in the distance. The lone beachside bar was still open at this hour. Breathing hard, he made his way to the counter, his back turned to the restless waves, as though trying to escape the tide of emotions crashing inside him.

"Macallan, neat," he said hoarsely, not sparing the bartender a glance as he took a seat on the high stool.

The bartender placed a glass of whiskey in front of him wordlessly. The amber liquid caught the soft glow of the string lights above, its warm hue reminding him of his wife's topaz eyes. He gritted his teeth, the bitterness of her words still lingering, before he drowned the drink in one swift motion.

"Another," he bit out, the harsh drink managing to sooth his constricted throat.

The stool next to him scraped loudly across the floor, the sound grating on Arnav's nerves. The stale scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, thick and cloying, just as the unwelcome presence beside him made his blood run cold.

Raghu Verma staggered onto the stool, his movements slow and unsteady, eyes half-lidded. A vile drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, adding to the disgusting sight.

"Missster Raizada, how is it that you are hic-here at this hour?"

Arnav turned away and growled, "I don't see how that is any of your concern, Verma."

Verma's eyes widened as he peered into Arnav's face, a sickly grin spreading across his features. "Ah... I see something's troubling you. Believe me, I know the feeling all too well."

"Marriage," Verma continued sneering, his words slurred with a hiccup. "The undoing of a man. To think we need a companion... it's foolhardy, absurd."

Arnav froze. His mind, already on the edge, faltered in disbelief. Was Verma reading his thoughts? How had this man tapped into the raw core of his frustration so easily?

"I was smitten," Verma continued, shaking his head as though lost in the memory. "From the very first moment I saw her. I wanted to make her happy... but everything I did was in vain. Unappreciated. Disregarded. Held in contempt."

Verma slammed his fist on the table, his lips quivering as his eyes glazed over with madness. The air around him seemed to thicken, the tension palpable. Arnav's grip on the glass tightened, though he couldn't understand why he still sat there listening to the man spew his poison.

Was Khushi unappreciative? Did she treat him without regard? The answer was... no. A surge of outrage swept over him, anger rising like a tidal wave as he considered the stark contrast between Verma's twisted version of love and his own reality with Khushi.