Achilles' Heels: An IPKKND FanFiction

Chapter Five: The Rage of Angels

"Appletini," Khushi mumbled to the guy on the other side of the counter as she climbed up the high-bar chair. She lightly tapped her phone on the reflective granite of the counter while rotating and flipping it erratically between her fingers and wishing she had some clue about what she was supposed to do next.

Her mind had gone numb after her visit to Arnav. She could feel her pulse in her ears in tandem with the heavy base of the music that rocked the dance-floor, turning them a brilliant shade of pink that faded lightly into the ivory of her cheeks. She tried her best to ignore the beats that caused her head to pound and to tune out all her thoughts except Arnav. She wanted to remember the tiniest of the details to analyze what had happened. Funnily enough, she wanted to forget everything as well and start afresh. She had grown tired of fighting the world; she was exhausted to portray herself to be the confident woman that she pretended to be in front of the world.

Her mind subconsciously revisited Arnav amidst all the garish noise around her yet again, recollecting the conversation she shared with him a few hours back. This time, however, she couldn't remember the finer details. Maybe her brain wanted to wipe them out for all the bitterness they held. She hissed, frustrated at her inability to recount his words. Irrespective of the reasons, she didn't want to forget one moment she had spent with him. And it killed her to realize that her brilliant mind had other plans. Her much-awaited reunion with Arnav hadn't gone well. That was all she knew and that was all she cared about.

She unlocked her phone a couple of times and locked it again - watching it fade into unresponsive black and back to its usual bright-self. She sighed. He was hiding something - and hiding something big - she knew it - she had known it all this time. But why? Had nothing changed for him in these months?

Her life was affected so drastically that she had to search for Khushi in the facade she now so effortlessly managed for the world. She had to, Lavanya had told her. If she was to manage Arnav's companies, if she was to build on to Arnav's legacy as they had called it then, then she had to forgo her image as a small-town girl who loved sparkle. But was it worth it? Did it even mean anything? Was it all futile?

"Here you go, Ma'am. One Appletini," the bartender pulled her out of her trance. Her eyes shot up to his as they traveled to the present from an infinity. She saw him smile politely at her as he kept the Martini and some extra maraschino cherries for her on the side. "Enjoy your drink," he added.

"Sure," she murmured, feeling the sarcasm dripping from her voice herself, "I will."

She wound her delicate fingers on the stem of the glass, holding it elegantly in her hand. She noticed the strong contrast of the purple-blue lights from the danced-floor against the flawless skin of her hand. She looked on at the random patterns the light formed on it, fascinated, leaving her hand hanging mid-air.

'Give me the bloody answers!'

Her voice flooded the chambers of her brain, haunting her, teasing her of the failure to get answers from him. Maybe things hadn't changed so much for him after all, she sulked despite herself, maybe he had changed so much that he wasn't the same Arnav she knew.

'You are a trained liar, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada!'

She recalled wanting to hurt him and wound him for the inferno he had put her into for the past year and a half. But she was sure that feeling had vanished on the first sight of him. She knew he wasn't lying - she knew he was just keeping something from her. Something important. She knew better than to call it lying. But if that wasn't lying then, what was? How would you define lying? Especially when the person in concern was Arnav Singh Raizada?