192. OS 9: The Diabetic and the Halwai (Epilogue)

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Epilogue

Khushi stretched in bed, her fist hitting a sleeping Arnav’s chin.

“Khushi, so jao,” he murmured in his sleep, knowing his attacker.

“Khushi, so jao,” Khushi mimicked her husband of two months. “How easy it is to say, Khushi, so jao in the morning after keeping this Khushi awake all night,” she whined.

Arnav smiled, his eyes still shut. He grabbed her warm body wrapped in their blanket and pulled her into his arms.

“Chodiye hamein,” she squirmed.

“No, never in this lifetime,” he whispered in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t touch me, Arnavji. You know how I get when you touch me. I throw hosh and sud-bud to the wind...”

“Clothes too,” he murmured helpfully.

“... and before I know it half the day is gone,” she complained, trying to push him away. "It is all your fault."

He chuckled, his chest rising and falling against hers, his tummy tickling hers.

“It is Sunday,” he managed to say between guffaws. "Let's sleep in."

“Acha? Today is Sunday? Every day is Sunday for you,” she tried to tickle him to get him off her. “Today is Saturday, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada. Are you going to the office or working from home today?” she asked.

“Home,” he murmured against her neck. “I need to go to office for a couple of hours at noon. That’s all.”

“You will be at home? Then I will make lunch special today,” she smiled, her mind busy with the menu.

“Lunch is at noon. Let’s make the morning special,” he murmured, his eye twinkling and his fingers moving up the curve of her waist.

“Arnavji,” Khushi tried to stop him by clamping her hands over his. “I have to go to my shop.”

“Your balushahi is waiting for you?” he teased, his eyes gazing directly into hers.

“Yes,” she laughed.

“I will take you,” he offered.

“No, you stay at home and rest. You work too hard, Arnavji. I will go with Mohanji,” she replied.

“No, I will take you,” he insisted. “I am your husband, not Mohan.”

Khushi chuckled. She threw her arms around him. “You are so funny, my sweet bhalu,” she complimented him, dropping a warm, loud kiss on his cheek.

“I am your teddy bear, right?” he asked, showering her with kisses.

“Yes, yes,” she laughed.

He rewarded her with hot kisses and soon her laughter turned into moans and pleas.

                                              ***

Arnav started the car and drove towards her shop in a trendy mall in the centre of the city.

“How will I look Jiji in the face again?” Khushi fretted.

“Why? What is wrong with Payal’s face? Akash didn’t tell me that anything was wrong when he married her,” Arnav teased her.

Khushi snorted. “Nothing is wrong with Jiji’s face. The problem is with your neeyat, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada. I was late for breakfast today too. Jiji and Di had already helped Hari Prakashji to make all the dishes when I finally strolled downstairs,” she complained.

He chuckled.

“The problem is not with my neeyat, Mrs. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada. It is with your beauty,” he said.

“Hein? The fault is mine?” she asked.

“Yes, bilkul yours. When you look at me with those big eyes,” Arnav confessed.

“What happens?” Khushi asked.

“Kuch kuch hota he,” he smiled.

Khushi blushed.

“And when you wear a saree and I see your kamar...” he continued.

She blushed. “Enough,” she pleaded.

“And your choli has two doris that tempt me to...” he continued, his eyes lingering on her rosy cheeks.

“Arnavji,” she protested.

“And your plump lips beckon me to bite into them...” he stoked the fire.

“Bas bhi keejiye,” Khushi begged. “Please.”

“OK,” he agreed. His naughty eyes looked at her red face. “Khushi, you are beautiful. Your face is,” he paused.

“”My face is?” Khushi asked curiously.

“Your face is,” he stopped again.

“My face is?” she asked eagerly.

“Red like a beetroot,” he teased.

“Awwww,” Khushi exclaimed. “Arnavji, see if I don’t take revenge for this! Grrrr,” she threatened, her clenched fists in the air.

“What is wrong, Khushi?” Arnav was on a roll. “I compared your face to a beetroot, that’s all. After all, we are shakhahari people, aren’t we?” he laughed.

Khushi pretended to punch him in the stomach.

“What is for lunch?” he asked, driving into the parking lot of her shop.

 “Veg pijja and hot pepper tea,” she teased him.

“Hey Devi Maiyya!” Arnav Singh Raizada exclaimed.

Khushi winked at him and left the car.  

As she walked to her shop with Arnav following her, she sang,

Smile malai he teri, style he gajak

Narmi bhi garmi bhi, tu badi gazab

Nain namakpaare, hont kalakandi

Chakh loon thoda sa, de ja razaamandi

Marzi teri to arzi meri, bana le na mujhe lover...

He chuckled.

The End

Next story on Monday.