Arranged marriage was an age-old story that Khushi, the youngest of the infamous Gupta family, who revolutionized and dominated the trading market for generations, knew well.
For it was the only thing she heard growing up.
But that neither prepared...
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"Nannav! What took you so long?!"
"That would be your farmhouse. It's literally in the middle of nowhere."
Nand-Kishore or NK as everyone fondly called him, grinned in response and hugged his brother. It was impossible not to notice how closely knit the Raizada's were. They were always pulling each other's legs, complaining about their family or jobs or partners, but mostly, staying united in all circumstances.
Coming from a family of just four, Khushi had found their bond unbelievable and pretentious at first. But the more she spent time with Lavanya and understood her insane loyalty to Arnav, the more Khushi believed that families were not all like hers: dysfunctional. There were also some that stood by you, that made you believe in love and support. They may be rare, but they did exist.
"Bhabhi!" NK said, turning towards to her and pulling her into a hug. "Welcome!"
Khushi smiled. "Please stop calling me Bhabhi, NK. I have a name and it's pretty nice."
"How about Bhabs? 'Cause Nannav might just murder me if I call you Khushi."
She looked at Arnav, who shook his head in denial. "He is fine with it."
"Then Prachi will murder me instead. You are too beautiful for anyone not to think that you are my girlfriend."
"Hold up," Arnav said. "Let me get Prachi and we can have this conversation properly."
"See?" NK said triumphantly to Khushi. "He is too possessive."
Khushi simply laughed, not wanting to prolong the conversation. If NK dug any further, he would see that Arnav and she were barely even friends, forget about being possessive.
"If you are done flirting with my wife, can we go inside?" Arnav interrupted. "I am starving."
Khushi couldn't agree more. It was almost midnight on a Friday. She had finished her usual twelve-hour shift at the hospital before being driven straight to the farmhouse in Agra by Arnav, who was still not on "speaking terms" with her. They had driven so far into the outskirts that even their cellphones couldn't pick up a signal. Fortunately, after almost two hours of roaming around in circles, someone pointed them in the right direction.
"Yeah come in," NK said, leading them up a few steps, through a set of French doors and inside a very stylishly designed cottage. "Everyone is already drunk."
"Typical," Arnav answered. "So who bought the booze this time? It better not be Bhagi."
"God, no! I still haven't gotten over how badly he picked last time."
Bhagat or Bhagi in short, was Arnav's paternal cousin. Being a year or two younger than Arnav, he was quite sensible. The few times Khushi spoke to him, he was polite and cordial, so she didn't quite follow why his choice in alcohol was so badly received.
