Head over Heels ☑️

Chapter 42

🎶 Chidiya—Vilen

Khushi stirred as a hand rested lightly on her arm. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and instinctively, she leaned into the touch, her body chasing the comfort of heat in the half-light.

"Two more minutes, Arnav-ji," she mumbled sleepily, her voice muffled against the pillow. As was her habit, her leg curled possessively over the figure beside her, nuzzling closer into what she thought was familiar terrain.

But something was off.

The hand against her skin was smaller, lighter. The warmth, though present, didn't hum with the weight she was used to. Her brow furrowed. Slowly, she opened her eyes—

"Khushi ki bachii, wake up already!"

"Ji-ji!" Khushi yelped, jerking back slightly to find her sister's face barely inches from hers, grinning wide.

"Haan, pagli [mental]," Payal replied with a chuckle, pinching her cheek.

Khushi groaned and flopped back onto the pillow, mortified. The room was still veiled in the quiet gray of pre-dawn, the shadows stretching long and soft along the walls. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed and a scooter buzzed to life—the telltale signs of a city on the cusp of stirring.

As the haze of sleep lifted, reality came rushing back in—the argument, the distance, the aching silence she had wrapped herself in like a shawl these past few days.

But lying here, in this moment, beneath the shared quilt with the sister who had always been her refuge, the chaos within her dulled at the edges. The ache was still there but its sting was softened by the presence of someone who had always known how to hold her without needing to ask why.

She turned her head slightly, studying Payal's serene face. And for the first time in days, Khushi let herself breathe without bracing.

"So this is Arnav-ji's usual plight, huh?" Payal teased. "I don't know how he manages to get out of bed with you clamping down on him like a limpet!"

"Stop teasing," Khushi groaned, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, her cheeks warming with embarrassment.

"We need to get moving, you know," Payal chided. "Vat Savitri Pooja starts in an hour, and we both have work right after."

"Okay," Khushi muttered. But just as Payal turned to rise, Khushi reached out and pulled her back, throwing a lazy arm over her sister's waist and dragging her into a hug.

"Mmm... Ji-ji smell," she murmured into Payal's shoulder.

"Dhatt, pagli," Payal laughed, but didn't try to wriggle free. Instead, she rested a hand on Khushi's arm, giving it a soft pat.

"I miss this," she said gently. "It feels like nothing's changed. Like we're back in Lucknow, sleeping in on rainy days."

Khushi hummed in response. For a moment, they simply stayed like that—tangled in the hush of dawn, surrounded by the scent of linen, jasmine oil, and memory.

"Ji-ji..." Khushi said after a pause, her voice almost shy. "Will you do champi for me? It's been so long..."

Payal pivoted, settling on her side and smiled, threading her fingers through Khushi's loose braid. "Of course. We'll make time."

Eventually, they peeled themselves from the warmth of the quilt. Outside, the birds had begun their chorus, and the soft clang of metal against metal echoed from the kitchen.

As Khushi freshened up, she heard Payal moving about—pouring oil into a small steel bowl, flicking on the stove, the gentle scent of jasmine wafted in.