Perfectly Flawed (Complete) (Under Editing)

Chapter Seven

"Hello hi bye bye, this weddingwa is too muchiya! Did you see how that Mrs. Mittal shoved her gold necklace on my facewa? Fine will speak later! You go and do your businesswa, as if you have time for yours missus." Manorama growled affectionately at her husband.

"Ah, home sweet home." Manorama smiled as she walked into Akash's penthouse. But she halted in her tracks, her smile freezing as she noticed her son slouched over the bar. Manorama nearly ran towards Akash, fearing a terrible relapse of his addiction.

"Akas..." She jumped back as Akash swiveled in the chair, his eyes red and drugged. Cupping his cheek tenderly, Manorama panicked "Bitwa (son) are you fine? Why are you near this alcohol? Is there any trouble... bitwa answer me!"

Stumbling on his legs, a drunk Akash laughed his heart out. "Maa! You actually c... care about me? But am I not just your poster boy?" Pausing to turn point at himself, Akash continued "Akash Singh Raizada! He's up for sale, hai na? Sell this boy to another rich household and get a famous daughter in law for exchange." She clutched her hand near her chest as Akash staggered towards her.

"I have loved you more than anything Maa, more than anything. But what did I get in return? Hatred?" Akash hiccuped and leaned against the edge of the counter while Manorama shook her head. "No bitwa, I do lov..."

"SHUT UP! Dd... don't lie. If you actually love me, you would have loved my wife and my unborn baby. Arrey what type of a mother are you to destroy my only family!" Akash screamed, throwing bottles all around.

Guilt seeped in Manorama's veins as Akash swayed, his eyes puffy from crying. In an attempt to calm him down, Akash chuckled and pushed her aside "It's because I'm not your son... right?"

Manorama stiffened, her eyes widening in shock "Enough! What rubbish bitwa? I have always treated you like my own baby." "THAT'S THE PROBLEM!" Akash yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Looking into Manorama's eyes he continued "You treated me like your own son, not as your own son. Arnav bhai treats me like his own brother, giving a very obvious preference to Di."

Fidgeting with a thread from his shirt, he gave a teary smile to a distraught Manorama "You know Maa what hurts the most... the fact that I am his own blood, his own brother."

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"This color doesn't look bad on you..." He whispered, his fingers tugging impatiently at the purple sari. Arnav's smile dimmed as Khushi replied with a lost hmm. Sitting up, he stared as Khushi blinked into reality, her eyes resting on him for a few fond seconds.

"Thank you..." She meekly responded, shyly covering her bare shoulder with the edge of her sari. "Khushi are you fine?" Khushi melted at her husband's concern, so silly she was to think he didn't care! How did it matter if people in the party were someone who mingled with her husband as if they were old friends and treated the wife like an outsider? They weren't important people, Arnav was.

Shaking her head, she snuggled into her husband as he stiffened for an awkward moment then placed a caring hand on her head. "It's nothing Arnav ji." She whispered against his chest, hating herself for lying to him. Arnav's caress came to a halt as he tilted her face to see her glistening eyes. "What's wrong Khushi?" Biting her lower lip, Khushi sighed "I don't think I belong in your social world. It seems strange and I feel..." Khushi looked up as Arnav laughed slightly.

"It's a very different world Khushi, you don't have to know them. And then they're of a different standard. So don't bother your pretty little head about them." Khushi pouted at his reply and poked his chest. "But you belong with them! If you can belong with them then I should be able to do as well."