At Last (IPKKND Secret Romance #4)

Chapter 1: Anticipation

Her ears ached from the weight of her earrings, a stray piece of gold thread poked into her back, and the netting that had looked cute four weeks ago had begun to itch.

Khushi sat in the middle of the bed – his bed – and waited. She could hear distant murmurings and the occasional laughter from downstairs, where his family was still gathered.

She stretched, trying to relieve the itch in the middle of her back without disturbing the careful arrangement of her lehenga and dupatta that Anjali-ji and Jiji achieved for her.

Why isn't he here yet?

She froze. Maybe he should take a little longer. Because, when he gets here ...

She couldn't suppress the shiver that through her body, half anticipation, half fear.

Nanhe-ji's voice echoed in the corridor, followed by a chorus of giggles from the women in his family, and Khushi knew that it was time. Her hands clenched into her skirt as the door opened to rowdy laughter and his brothers pushed him into the room. Anjali-ji laughed as she handed him a glass of milk, said goodnight in a singsong voice, and closed the door. He locked it behind her.

Khushi's breath came in short gasps as she shook. Arnav-ji stared at her, still standing at the door.

Does he see me trembling? Does he think I'm scared ... or simply cold?

She wore a gold and pink bridal suit with a green dupatta – the same colors she'd worn when they'd met. Her skirt was gold, edged with bright pink, and so was the blouse that was mostly covered by the pink dupatta that wrapped around her waist and over her shoulder. A green dupatta, edged with pink and gold, covered her head.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was really closer to two minutes, Arnav-ji walked towards the bed. He put the glass of milk on the table and came to sit beside her. His hands shook as he lifted the dupatta and uncovered her face.

Her heart thudded almost painfully as she looked at him. Arnav Singh Raizada. Her husband. It was still hard to believe that they were married, finally, and every time she remembered, a delicious thrill went through her.

He was wearing a dark blue sherwani with a dusting of gold, and still had the pink cloth that had connected them as one during the vows wrapped around his neck.

"Hi."

Khushi smiled, the familiarity of that hi calming her nerves. He didn't use that tone with anyone else - it was hers ... as he was hers. His eyes flicked over her, taking in all her finery – the clothes, the jewellery, the baubles.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?" he toyed with the edge of her dupatta.

She blushed. He had.

Once as they exchanged garlands, once as they sat in front of the holy fire, and once as they were pronounced husband and wife. Once again in the car back to his house, and then again as they'd eaten their first meal as husband and wife from the same plate.

"Yes," she told him, pushing past the slight waver in her voice, "five times today."

"Make it six. Khushi, you look absolutely breathtaking. Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world."

Arnav-ji had been mischievous and flirtatious as they'd played the games that tradition required of them on their wedding night – racing each other to untie knots, finding her engagement ring in a bowl filled with milk, him searching for his name in her henna. He'd winked at her from across the room, held her hand as they stood together, and – when no one was watching – traced his fingers up her arms, on her back, across her waist.

The playfulness I can handle, but this serious side of him makes me nervous.

Arnav-ji stretched across the bed and picked up a remote, turning on the air conditioner before sliding away.

"These clothes are so hot," he complained, fiddling with the top-most button of his sherwani.

Khushi shook, a visible tremor that travelled up and down her body. Arnav-ji looked at her in concern.

"Khushi, are you all right?"

She nodded. He frowned at her as she shivered again, unable to banish the cocktail of fear and anticipation that coursed through her.

"Okay," he said in a disbelieving tone, but his voice softened as he continued, "As gorgeous as you look, those clothes can't be comfortable, especially since you've been in them all day. Go and change, relax a little, and then we'll talk?"

Khushi looked up at him.

That's it? He isn't going to lay me back on the bed and kiss me? He isn't going to take off my jewellery, piece by piece? He isn't going to untie my dori and ... and ... ... Well, okay. I don't know what comes next, exactly. The serials and movies always fade to black.

But she'd expected something. Unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed, Khushi slid to the edge of the bed and got down. Her husband noticed the sudden change in her mood.

"Khushi?"

Arnav-ji tugged at her hand so that she fell against him. He held her close, cradling her head with his hand as he always did.

"What's wrong, Khushi? Talk to me."

She shook her head, not knowing what to say or how to say it. When he let her go, all she could look at was the unbuttoned collar of his sherwani. Arnav-ji followed her gaze, looking down at the collar and back up to her. All at once, he seemed to realize.

"Khushi. Nothing has to happen," he gently lifted her face so she was looking into his eyes, "Tonight or any other night. Nothing is going to happen, here or in any other part of our married life, unless we both want it. We'll do what feels right for us. This is our marriage, and we're the only people who matter. Got it?"

She nodded as a few errant tears escaped. He always knew what to say. Arnav-ji wiped her tears before repeating his suggestion that she change. He placed the small suitcase that had travelled with her on the sofa and opened it.

I've come into his home with so little.

But when she looked at him, Khushi knew that all the riches in the world couldn't compare to what she'd gained: a husband who understood her like no one else.

Khushi took off an earring and looked around for a place to put it. Arnav-ji pointed to a shelf underneath the mirror that hung on his wall. She noticed that the files and papers that were usually stacked there were gone.

"I don't have a dressing table, but Di said you might like it the way it is. If you want, we can get a dressing table."

Khushi shook her head, touched by the gesture. He'd made space for her in his bedroom. In his life. She took off her jewellery, one piece at a time, while Arnav-ji typed on his laptop as he sat on the bed.

Working, even now, she thought with a smile, and he looked up as though he'd heard.

"I'm not working. I'm finalizing the honeymoon. I promised you that I wouldn't work for a week."

Her smile grew wider as he met her eyes in the mirror and mouthed, "I love you".

*****

Author's Note: This is the fourth in a four-part series set in the Secret Romance AU. I highly recommend reading Happy New Year (Secret Romance #1), Moments (Secret Romance #2) and The Reveal (Secret Romance #3) for context.

A Note on the AU: With Shyam being non-existent in this AU, parts three and four are, necessarily, entirely AU.