Moments (IPKKND Secret Romance #2) (aka Our Moments)

Chapter 5: Khushi

8th December

It had been two weeks.

Two long weeks of silent car rides, punctuated only by the murmur of his voice as he asked permission to buckle or unbuckle her seat belt. Two weeks of avoiding each other in the expanse of his home, of halting, awkward non-conversations when the wedding planning forced them to interact. Two weeks of not ... touching. Khushi hadn't realised how much they touched each other until they'd stopped - the soft caress of his hands as he helped her into his car, the brush of his shoulders as he walked past, the skim of his fingers at her waist as he caught her when she stumbled.

Two weeks of sleepless nights as she'd struggled to reconcile everything she felt with everything she wanted. Nights where she weighed up everything she knew about him with everything she wanted and expected in life. Nights where she'd reshaped the dreams of a girl into the wishes of a woman.

And finally, she'd come to a decision.

Khushi had taken extra care getting ready this morning, picking a red kameez and pairing it with red-pink bangles, carefully applying kajal to her eyes, smoothing her hair into a neat plait.

He likes red, doesn't he?

She sat at the table, a cup of tea clutched in her hands as she waited nervously for his knock. He always came at 9, and on some days, she was convinced she felt him as he approached – felt every step he took from his car to the front door. Her heart skipped a beat when a sharp rap on wood signalled his arrival. She called out a hasty goodbye to her family as she opened the door.

Her breath caught. He looked ... like the man of her dreams. Black suit, black tie, coupled with the steel-blue shirt he'd worn on Diwali. Her favourite.

"Ready?"

Khushi smiled, glad that they'd managed to preserve this small part of their routine. She nodded, looking up at him, wanting him to read in her eyes what she wasn't brave enough to say.

That she was ready. For whatever this was. For whatever he was offering.

And these two weeks had taught Khushi that he was offering something. She'd half-expected his driver, Mohan-ji, instead of him the morning after she'd asked for time. And yet, Arnav-ji came everyday, a silent and uncomplaining brightness in her mornings. She'd finally deciphered the meaning in Lavanya-ji's request that she take care of Arnav-ji, and in her quiet statement that she'd understand when the time came. Khushi thought she understood now. He hadn't pulled away. He was waiting.

Arnav-ji walked her to his car, opening the door and waiting for her to climb inside unassisted.

Devi Maiyaa, please give me strength.

Khushi used the door to lever herself in, carefully placing her hand so it covered half of his. They paused - a poignant, charged, exquisite pause - and when she looked up at him, his eyes flared with a warmth that let her know that he realised. He knew her touch had been deliberate. Settled in the car, Khushi waited for him to introduce the topic of the day's light-hearted conversation. Half the drive passed in cordial silence before she realised that he was waiting for her.

It's only fair. I asked for time so I should be the first to make a move.

She searched her mind for an appropriate topic and alighted on a question she'd wanted to ask since they first sat in this car together.

"How come you ... uhh ... you don't listen to m-music in the car?"

Arnav-ji glanced at her, "Music?"

Having grown up listening to the temperamental radio in Babu-ji's equally temperamental car, Khushi had always found the silence in this big, white car eerie. Oppressive.

"Yes. Most people listen to music in the car. Why ... why don't you?"

"I don't need to," he frowned.

Khushi! Let it go! Does he look like he's ever listened to music? He's the Laad Governor.

They lapsed into silence as Khushi realised that she was playing with fire - her questions could ignite his anger and leave her overtures for peace in tatters. But now that she'd started, she wanted an answer. She wanted to scratch beneath the surface of this stoic man. She wanted to know him.

Please, Devi Maiyaa, help us work through this ... Help us find a way to talk again.

"Do you like any music?" she asked quietly.

"Khushi, are you really asking me about music?"

"N-no. Don't worry. Forget I said-"

"Maybe you can bring something for us to listen to tomorrow?"

Her eyes snapped to the figure next to her. A smile played on his lips - that rare, slow smile that soothed her and always left her deeply content, especially when she'd inspired it. She wanted to be the secret behind all his smiles. Her heart beat faster in response to the searching gaze he turned on her as they waited for a traffic light to change. For the first time in fifteen days, he offered his hand as she slid out of his car at Shantivan, and Khushi gladly took it.

They didn't see each other again until everyone gathered for lunch. Arnav-ji returned to his habit of taking everything from her hands and serving himself before handing it back. He held her gaze as he brushed his fingers over hers deliberately, and Khushi was sure her heart stopped beating.