Charade (IPKKND AU)

Chapter 9: Careless

Khushi

The next morning, Khushi blinked her eyes open reluctantly as she contemplated the sunshine streaming through the glass doors. She was warm and snug and secure, though her clothes felt uncomfortable and she was still wearing her earrings.

She fiddled with them absently as she looked around, and the sight of the bed, half its decorations torn off and most of its pillows askew, caused the memories to flood back.

Arnav-ji had carried her inside last night when the rain had started, ignoring her groggy protests. He'd settled her on the sofa and tucked a blanket around her, before soothing away her fear of the storm with gentle words. Khushi stood, looking around for him before realising that the shower was running. Deciding that he could answer for this unexpected kindness when he emerged, she started to tidy the mess of ruined decorations.

It looks like he destroyed them sometime in the night.

Her memories of the night providing no answers, she supposed that an unexpected surge of guilt or compassion had forced him to bestow some good will. And obviously, that decision had been hard won amongst the conflict that now guided all his actions and words.

She paused as the door to the bathroom clicked open to reveal Arnav-ji, dressed in a blue shirt and black slacks. He hesitated in the doorway for a beat before continuing to his wardrobe.

He spoke as he pulled out a tie, "Get ready, we're going somewhere."

Khushi opened her mouth to tell him that she had no clothes before recalling the orange salwar suit she'd left in the guest room. Hari Prakash-ji had arranged to have it laundered. She nodded, heading to the corner where she'd placed it with the small bag of her things.

"Will you answer a question?" he asked suddenly.

"Only if you answer one as well," Khushi faced him.

He considered for a moment before nodding.

"Why are you wearing them? The bangles. They don't match."

Khushi tried to tell herself that it was only the Managing Director of a fashion house asking, his sensibilities affronted at the clash of red and green with orange, but her heart seemed to skip a beat anyway. She contemplated and rejected a dozen answers, all too close to the truth, before settling on a response.

"Everything has changed. I wanted to wear something familiar."

I thought it would remind you of a happier time, when I thought you could love me.

He turned to the wardrobe to fish out his waistcoat. Khushi took a deep breath before asking her question.

"Did you order a new laptop?"

He turned, his eyes flicking to her before finding the small white table on which his things usually sat. The sound of his laptop smashing into a thousand pieces seemed to echo in their silence.

"Aman will deliver it later today."

It seemed absurd — they'd eloped, they were husband and wife, and he thought his Jija had been unfaithful with her — and yet they were talking about bangles and laptops.

I guess we have to start somewhere.

A knock sounded on the door just then, startling them both, "Chhote, open the door."

They stared at one another in horror before bursting into action. She snatched all the discarded strings of flowers off the floor and piled them next to the sofa. He grabbed the blanket from the sofa and the small pillow she hadn't noticed from the floor and messily arranged them on the bed.

Wait ... he slept on the floor?

She was distracted from that thought as Arnav-ji's hands settled at her waist. He moved her gently out of the way, "Khushi, your hair."

Khushi raised a hand to her hair distractedly, watching as he stood on the bed to take down the rest of the flowers. Something about the way he stretched caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. Then he climbed down, pausing to pick a leaf out of her hair, and surveyed the room.

It was only when his gaze caught on her figure, his eyes raking up and down, that she realised that her dupatta had fallen askew. She quickly covered her midriff as he crossed to the door.

Anjali-ji didn't speak until she was standing in front of Khushi, a yellow sari bundled in her hands.

"Get ready in this, and then come downstairs for the chauka pujan," she instructed.

Taking the bundle gratefully, Khushi watched as Anjali-ji shared a look filled with disappointment and anguish with her brother before leaving without another word. His pain seemed to tear her heart to shreds.

"Arna—"

He left without acknowledging her.

#####

She showered and changed, glad that Hari Prakash-ji had laundered her things so she had a fresh set of underclothes, and ventured out of the room. She was met at the bottom of the stairs by Anjali-ji, but they were intercepted on their way to the kitchen by Mami-ji.

"I don't give this Phati Sari permission to enter the kitchen!" she declared.

Khushi felt Anjali-ji's fingers tighten at her elbow. She looked down, nervously twisting her hands together as her sister-in-law defended her.

"I know the way Khushi-ji and Chhote got married has upset you," Anjali-ji tried to reason, "but Khushi-ji is a part of our family now."

"Not for me!"

In the kitchen, Jiji stopped what she was doing as Nani-ji approached them.

"Just as Payal-bitiya is a bahu after the Griha Pravesh, so is Khushi-bitiya," Arnav-ji's grandmother spoke decisively, "I will give her permission to enter the kitchen."

Mami-ji spluttered ineffectually before storming away in a huff.

Khushi felt helpless, powerless, standing there while the elders argued over her fate as if she was no more than a misbehaving child. She turned to thank Nani-ji, grateful for the intervention all the same, but the other woman spoke again without acknowledging her.

"Don't mistake this as forgiveness. I'm only doing this because Anjali-bitiya wants it."

Khushi fought back tears as she stood next to her sister in the kitchen, warming up oil in a small pan. It should have been familiar and easy — she'd grown up working and cooking beside Jiji — but instead, it was bitter and awkward. Jiji refused to look at her and ignored her tentative attempts at conversation. The disquiet within her heart spilled over.

"Talk to me, Jiji!" Khushi grabbed her sister's hand, "Scold me. Strike me if you wish, but don't ignore me like this, Jiji!"

"If you want me to talk to you, then tell me why you did it."

"How much do you love your sister?"

"All I have to do is stand here, and your sister will remain unmarried for a second time."

"Jiji ... I c-can't."

"You're always so careless, doing whatever you want with no thought to the consequences," Jiji accused, turning back to her food, "When I was getting married you ran off with the papers for the shop, and you met him. And now ... the two of you have again ..."

Jiji trailed off, twisting out of the way as Khushi reached for her hand, "Jiji ..."

But Jiji gathered the breakfast things and turned away, leaving her alone in the kitchen.