166. OS: 7: The Other Woman (Part 33)

Part 33

“Hum theek nahi he,” Khushi complained. “Not since the day I met you.” She buried her face in her hands. “You have plagued me like a disease, abused me, followed me, showered me with unwanted gifts and now...” Tears fell from her eyes down her cheeks.

“Khushi,” he tried to comfort her. He reached for her hand, but she moved her face away.

“You Pappi Singh Raizada!” she wept. “Giving me pappis and jhappis whenever we meet.” The citrusy scent of his aftershave swirled around her.

“Khushi, don’t cry,” he pleaded.

Khushi looked up at his pale face with wild and wet eyes.

“Khushi, I need to talk to you, explain...” he began.

“Is this the way you explain? By kissing me? And that too on my hont?” she rubbed her fingers against the sensitive curves that were pink from his arduous attentions. "Aap ko pata he, no one has ever kissed me on my hont."

She tried to stand up and then her ankle reminded her that it was hurt.

“Aaaa...” she screeched, falling back in to her chair.

“Let me,” he began, reaching for her leg.

Khushi pushed at his shoulders. “Go away. I don’t need your help. I will manage even if I have to crawl to Laxmi Nagar.”

“Khushi, your ankle will start swelling soon. Let me see to it,” he tried to persuade her to see reason.

Khushi looked doubtfully at her ankle. Would it swell up to suit him?

Arnav took the chance offered by her preoccupation and quickly took hold of her foot, placing his palm against her sole.

She shivered. “Kya kar rahein ho aap?” she asked.

“Thoda dard hoga,” he warned her softly. Then he quickly caught hold of her foot and twisted it.

“Aaaa...” Khushi cried. She pushed at his shoulder. “You Cruel Singh Raizada! It hurts.”

He twisted her foot again, his eyes tormented but determined.

Khushi let her fingers claw at his shoulder, transferring some of the agony to him. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from screaming. She shut her eyes tight. A couple of tears leaked out and ran down her alabaster cheeks.

She felt something soft touch her cheek.

Her eyes flew open.

His finger was drying her cheek.

She moved back in her chair.

“Put your foot on the ground and apply weight on it, Khushi,” he instructed.

Khushi obeyed him unwillingly. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him slack-jawed. “Yeh kaisa jaadu he?’ she asked. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she exclaimed.

Arnav drew in a deep breath of relief. Before Khushi lost her wonder and went back to animosity, he quickly spoke. “Khushi, do you really think that I proposed because I feel guilty for abusing you?” he asked, his serious eyes on hers.

She looked down at him, her eyes troubled. Then she nodded jerkily.

Arnav sighed. What had his anger and his impetuousness led him to? He had gone about this backwards. He should have started with telling Khushi of his love for her and then gone about buying her gifts. The only excuse he could find was that he was doing this for the first time.

“Khushi, I am sorry for accusing you of everything under the sun. Very, very sorry for thinking you immoral. I am ashamed of myself for misbehaving with you. Please, please believe me, Khushi,” he pleaded, still on his knees before her.

Khushi nodded.

“But that has nothing to do with my proposal. I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. I cannot imagine spending my time with any other woman than you,” he insisted.

Khushi stared at him. Was he Talli Singh Raizada? He really wanted to marry Buaji’s Sanka Devi?

“Di has gone to live with Jiju in his house. You can live in Shantivan without the cloud of the past over us,” he reassured her.

“Why do you want to marry me? I am an orphan. I work in Shyamji’s office. I am poor and...and...sanki,” she confessed. “Even my Buaji was surprised that you wanted to marry me. She couldn’t think what had made you propose to me.”

“I love you, Khushi,” he admitted, the words sliding naturally and painlessly out of his mouth. “Nothing else matters.”

Khushi’s mouth fell open. Love? When? What? Where? How?

“I never dreamed that I would fall in love one day, never knew that something called love existed. I had the greatest contempt for love and marriage, for men who fell for a girl’s looks or her smile.” He shook his head in amusement. “And I fell in love with a girl who wanted nothing of me.”

Khushi stared at him as though he were some exotic specimen.

“And I don’t go around offering to buy girls. You are the first and the last, Khushi. I was desperate to get you away from Jiju and in my hold that I...” he sighed. “I am sorry.”

Khushi nodded.

“Khushi, will you marry me?” he asked again.

She looked at him with troubled eyes.

“What if you regret it?” she asked. “What if I regret it?”

Arnav took hold of her hand. “We have to take that risk. I have come to understand that there are no guarantees in a marriage.”

“I never...” she paused. “I never thought I would meet a man like you or spend my days running away from you.” She leaned back in her chair, tired. “I don’t know what love is. Pehle kabhi kiya nahi,” she admitted. “And I am scared. Very scared.”

“Khushi, there is no hurry,” he soothed her. “Do you hate me?” he asked her, his molten eyes seeking hers.

Khushi shook her head in the negative. She had crossed their initial phase of distrust. And what was the use of lying?

“Then let me woo you. At the end of, say a month, you can decide where you want to go with this,” he suggested.

“Two months,” she demanded.

“Two months,” he gave in without a second’s thought. It was a miracle that she was willing to give him a chance.

“But no pappi,” she stated.

“Not even a single one?” he asked, disappointed.

“No,” she was definite. “Your pappis make me forget where I am.”

Arnav hid his smile. “As you wish. I will kiss you only when you ask me to.”

Khushi frowned. Knowing him there must be some loophole in his docile agreement. Cunning Singh Raizada was slier than a fox.

“I have to leave now, Khushi,” he murmured regretfully with a glance at the old clock on the wall. He stood up and helped her stand up.

“Can you walk?” he asked, holding her hand.

Khushi walked a couple of steps as an experiment. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said relieved.

“Bye,” he murmured.

“Bye,” she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.

Khushi gasped. “This is Ramanchi. You said no pappi till I asked for one.”

“A kiss on your hand is not a pappi,” he clarified.

She glared at him.

He quickly turned her hand, pressed his lips to her palm and left the room.

Khushi sagged in to the nearest chair. Would she have to spend two months getting kisses that were not pappis from Rowdy Singh Raizada? Hey Devi Maiyya! How would she control the dhak dhaks of her heart?