226. OS 11. An Uncomplicated Wife (Parts 13-14)

Link to my new short story: Taking Care of You


“I thought I was dreaming when I first saw you," he said.

 “How did you know it was me?” she asked. “I could have been anybody. A thief even.”

He smiled wearily. “I don’t know many thieves who would look at me with anxious eyes and then cry because I was sick,” he mumbled.

Is it possible for love to bloom, sight unseen? Juhi and Abhay are strangers who know each other better than they know themselves. One night changes the equation and the even tenor of their lives and puts all their doubts and fears to rest.

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-taking-care-you

Link to my first e-novel; A Home for Meenakshi

http://pothi.com/pothi/book/ebook-smita-ramachandran-home-meenakshi

"I love the way you love, Meenu," he whispered, his eyes on hers. "Such loyalty, such passion..."

Meenakshi Sharma, an orphan, lives in Varanasi with her uncle, a chronic bachelor who wants her to become a professional musician. She unwillingly relocates to Delhi to study under a renowned musician for eight months. Staying for rent in the outhouse of the Agrawals, she meets Aditya Agrawal, an attractive young man brooding over the memories of his horrendous past. Pulled between her uncle's expectations of her and Aditya's love for her, Meenakshi struggles with her feelings. How can she disappoint her uncle who had devoted his entire life to her upbringing? How can she pretend to be blind to Aditya's feelings for her? A romance that moves between the alleys of the holy city of Varanasi and the modern city of Delhi.

A blog for my VMs:

http://smitarsvms.blogspot.in/

Part 13

Arnav coiled Khushi’s arm around his as they walked down to join the crowd gathered in his living room.

“Our bahuriyya are good, better, best,” Mami told her friends. “Both of them are so bootiphool!”

Her friends nodded.

“Hamre Akass bitwaa and Arnav bitwaa are no less kamaal. They are phasting for their bifes, Hello Hi Bye Bye!” she added.

“Sachi?” Mrs. Mehta asked in surprise and awe.

“Sachi Muchi,” Mami said firmly, revelling in the chagrin on her friends’ faces. None of them had sons and nephews like Manorama Raijjada’s.

“Chotey, Khussi bitiya, you are here,” Nani exclaimed, her face wreathed in smiles. “Shall we start the pooja?”

“Fine,” Arnav grunted.

All the guests and Raizadas gathered before Devi Maiyya and began singing. One by one, they did aarti to the goddess. When it was Khushi’s turn, Arnav stepped forward with her. They held on to the same thali and did aarti together.

The Raizadas smiled at the sight even as Khushi stole a glance at her unpredictable husband and blushed when she met his molten eyes.

Once the pooja was done, Mami said, “Arnav bitwaa, give your bife water and food. Nahi to woh faintiyya hi jayenge, Hello Hi Bye Bye!”

Arnav lifted the small pot of water to Khushi’s lips. She took a sip, took the pot from his hand and held it to his lips.

He smiled tenderly into her eyes before taking a gulp of water.

Then he took a peda from her thali and held it to her mouth.

She bit into it, leaving the major part in his hand. She made to take another peda from the thali to feed him, but he indicated that he wanted the rest of what she had eaten.

With a scared look at all the guests swarming around them, Khushi slowly took the piece from his hand and held it to his lips. He parted his lips, letting her place the sweet in his mouth. As she withdrew her fingers, his lips caressed them, sending tendrils of heat travelling down her body.

She bent to touch his feet, but he caught hold of her shoulders with loving hands. “No, Khushi,” he murmured. Uncaring of all the eyes on them, he quickly pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. He then kissed her dupatta-covered head.

“Chotey, Khushiji,” Anjali tried hard to keep the smile from her voice and face.

He looked up.

Khushi scrambled to get out of his hold.

“Someone has come to meet you,” she said before moving out of the way to reveal Buaji in all her glory.

“Buaji,” Khushi squealed. Payal too came running with Akash in tow. Both girls hugged Buaji.

“Let me go, Nandkisore,” Buaji begged. “I am too old to take your violence.”

Akash and Arnav touched Buaji’s feet. She blessed them lovingly.

“I wanted to attend your first teej. I am sorry I am late, damadji,” Buaji apologised to Arnav. “The traffic in Delhi, Hai Re Nandkisore! The rickshawala almost threw me out halfway because it was taking too much time to get here.”

“Buaji, you should have called me. I would have come to pick you from the station,” he asserted.

“Yes, Buaji,” Anjali added. “Had we known you were coming, we would have made all the arrangements for your transportation.”

Nani and Mami nodded.

“Now that you have come, Madhumatiji, we won’t let you go,” Nani declared. “Stay with us for a month at least.”

“No, no, Nandkisore,” Buaji exclaimed. “I have to return tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? No bays! We bill not let you go, Madhumatiji,” Mami declared. “Akass bitwaa, Arnav bitwaa, we bill lock her in her bedroom.”

“No, no, Nandkisore,” Buaji tried to protest, but Nani quickly stepped in. “How are Sasiji and Garimaji?”

Before Buaji could reply, Anjali jumped in, “Dinner is served, Buaji. Shall we talk as we eat? Our brothers and sisters-in-law are starving.”

“Yes,” Nani concurred and all moved to the tables loaded with food.

Arnav sat by Khushi, his right arm rubbing against her left as they ate.

Khushi looked away, trying to compose herself. ‘What is happening to you, Khushi? You have been married to him for two months now, have been sleeping in the same bed. You had no problems till now. Ab kya? Why is your heart racing, your pulse beating madly? Control yourself,’ her head told her.

Her heart answered, ‘How can I control myself when he persists in touching me all the time, says he wants me to be a real wife, kisses me?’

Her head insisted, ‘Control yourself, Khushi.’

Her heart challenged her head, ‘I dare you to control yourself when Arnavji looks at you with those melting eyes, touches you with those lips...’

She stole a look at his lips, those sinfully delicious curves that could make her lose her sud bud and hosh. Her eyes moved up his straight nose to meet his chocolate brown eyes.

“Kya hua, Khushi?” Arnav leaned forward to whisper.

His nose touched strands of her hair and his hot breath fell against her ear.

“Kuch nahi....” she gasped.

“Sure?” he teased.

She nodded uncertainly. Life was getting too unpredictable and out of control, especially when Arnavji came too close to her, Khushi thought. Life was crowding her and her husband wasn’t helping any. He was pushing her into something she wasn’t ready for, rushing her into a real marriage with all the finesse of a road roller.

Buaji offered her a lifeline.

“Arnav bitwaa, Akass bitwaa,” Buaji began. “Don’t be angry with me. I have come to take your brides away.”

Arnav stared at her, slack-jawed.

All the Raizadas, Payal and Khushi looked at her in wonder.

“Oo kaa he, Nandkisore, a boy came to see our neighbour’s daughter, Preetho. He liked her and she liked him. All were happy till his family insisted that the wedding be conducted in a week. The ladka has been transferred. He has to join in one week. You can imagine how difficult it is, Nandkisore!” Buaji sighed.

Nani, Mami and Anjali nodded.

“Preetho’s shaadi?” Payal’s face was a picture of happiness.

Khushi was smiling too.

Nani looked at Payal and Khushi and said with a smile, “You should definitely take our bahuriyya with you, Madhumatiji.”

Arnav opened his mouth to protest but Mami beat him to it.

“Take our bahuriyya to Lucknow? Nahiiiii,” she cried. “Bhat will become of hamre bitwaas?”

“Manorama, just because you don’t want to visit your relations in Lucknow does not mean that your bahuriya don’t. Preetho is their childhood friend. Won’t they wish to attend her wedding?” Nani asked with a smile.

Arnav looked at Khushi’s face. She was delighted at the news.

“Ask your husbands, Payaliya, Titliya,” Buaji prodded them.

“Akashji?” Payal asked. “May I go with Buaji?”

Akash nodded, wanting to ask Payal to stay back but unable to do so.

Khushi looked at Arnav. “May I go to Lucknow, Arnavji?” she asked.

He asked, “Do you want to go, Khushi?” Say no, say no, he prayed.

“Yes, Arnavji,” she smiled, dashing all his hopes to the ground.

He looked down at his plate, feeling lost, scared, bereft.

Khushi came to bed late that night.

“You aren’t asleep, Arnavji?” she asked in surprise as she entered their bedroom to see Arnav standing by the window looking out at the pool and the garden.

He didn’t reply.

Khushi hesitated for a second and then moved to the wardrobe to gather her clothes together.

“I will pack for a week,” she said softly, stealing a glance at his rigid back.

He swallowed hard.

“It will be nice to see Amma and Babuji again,” she added, wondering at his silence.

“Convey my regards to them,” he muttered.

“Ji,” she replied, relieved that he was talking again.

He turned around to see her placing her folded clothes in a suitcase neatly. He stood looking at her, his eyes tracing every inch of her.

“Preetho and I,” Khushi said softly. “We were in the same class at school.” She looked up. He was listening intently. “She was always kind to me. Jiji and she used to defend me when the other children poked fun at me and made me cry,” she explained.

He frowned, furious at the very thought of children bullying Khushi. “Why did they poke fun at you?” he asked. He couldn’t think of any reason why Khushi should become the butt of ridicule.

“Because I am an orphan,” she said softly in a matter-of-fact manner.

“What the!” Arnav exclaimed.

“My parents died in an accident when I was ten,” she shut the suitcase and sat by it.

“Your Amma, Bauji...” his voice trailed away.

“My mother was Amma’s sister. She and Babuji adopted me. I call them Amma and Babuji. Jiji is my cousin,” Khushi explained, troubled by his shock. “Naniji knows all this,” she assured him. “Mamiji and Anjaliji too were told the truth by Babuji before our wedding.”

He parted his lips to speak but could only stare at her speechless.

“That is why Preetho is so dear to us,” Khushi explained. “She ran around doing everything for our weddings. How can we not do the same for her?”

Arnav nodded. He managed to say hoarsely, “I am sorry about your parents, Khushi.”

She nodded slightly. “Shall we go to sleep? Buaji wants to leave early in the morning,” she informed him.

“I have arranged Mohan to take you to Lucknow,” Arnav told her. “Akash will accompany you. He will drop you at your home and return.”

“Ji, shukriya,” Khushi mumbled.

“Call me when you want to return, Khushi,” he told her. “I will make the arrangements.”

“Ji,” she nodded.

After a restless night of tossing and turning, Arnav saw Khushi, Payal, Buaji and Akash off.

“Call me, Khushi,” he instructed. “If you need anything.”

“Ji,” she replied, standing before him, her fingers clutching the edge of her dupatta.

Arnav quickly walked into her and hugged her, uncaring that his whole family including Mohan and HP were watching his PDA.

“Drive carefully,” he instructed Mohan who was gaping at him after Khushi squirmed out of his hold.

“Ji, bhaiyya,” Mohan stammered.

Khushi tried hard not to blush at the look on her Buaji’s face.

“Akash, keep me posted,” Arnav ordered.

“Yes, bhai,” Akash promised.

He waved them off, his eyes on Khushi’s pink face as long as he could see her. After the car vanished from his sight, he turned and walked away to closet himself in their room.

The Raizada ladies sighed.

Part 14

Khushi sat back in her seat, feeling relieved and troubled as the vehicle moved away from Shantivan. Relieved because she was being given a few days to get used to the concept of having a husband who had her firmly in his sights and troubled because she was being given a few days to get used to the concept of having a husband who had her firmly in his sights.

She frowned. ‘What is wrong with you, Khushi?’ she asked herself. ‘You are happy to be free of Arnavji for a week and unhappy to be free of Arnavji for a week? You are pagal, bilkul pagal.’

“Kaa hua, Titliya?” Buaji asked.

“I am fine, Buaji,” Khushi smiled.

Buaji sighed in relief. “It is a blessing to have such good damadjis in our family,” she mused. “Nandkisore has been very kind to us. They care so much for both of you and their family is so loving.”

“Yes, Buaji,” Payal seconded her.

“And you are both in the same house by Nandkisore’s kindness,” Buaji folded her hands in prayer.

Payal nodded.

Khushi frowned at the road rushing past her, her confused thoughts almost strangling her.

                                                ***

Her phone rang. Arnavji.

“Ji?” Khushi asked, her voice shaking a little bit.

“Khushi, tum theek ho?” his husky voice carried concern.

“Yes...” she said even though her heart laughed at her avowal that she was fine when she was anything but.

“I am at the office,” he informed her. “There are more things to do now that Aman is not here.”

“Where is Amanji?” Khushi asked.

“On leave for a month,” Arnav explained.

“Oh...” she said softly.

“Did you stop for breakfast?” he asked.

“No, Buaji does not like to eat from restaurants. Hari Prakashji had packed food for us. We had it in the car,” she explained.

“Call me if you need anything, Khushi,” he reminded her.

“Ji,” she murmured before cutting the call.

                                                     ***

They finally reached Lucknow to a rapturous welcome by Garima and Sasi Gupta.

“It is so nice to see your happy faces,” Babuji said, hugging his daughters.

“Did Devyaniji feel bad because we asked them to let the girls return to Lucknow for Preetho’s shaadi?” Garima asked anxiously.

“No, Garima,” Buaji comforted her. “They were very understanding. Tum chinta mat karo.”

“Khushi, chalo. Let’s tease Preetho a bit,” Payal invited her, her eyes dancing.

“Just a minute, Jiji,” Khushi said before turning to Mohan. “Shukriya,” she thanked him for driving them to Lucknow.

“It is nothing, Khushi bhabhi,” Mohan replied with a smile. “Call me when you want to return. Hum khushi khushi aayenge to take you back to Arnav bhaiyya.”

Words trembled on Khushi’s lips—words asking Mohanji to take care of her husband, to drive him around carefully, to make sure that he didn’t work too hard, to ensure that he ate on time...but how could she ask Mohanji to do all these? These were the prerogatives and duties of a wife—a real wife, not Mohanji.

“Hum chalte hein, Khushi bhabhi,” Mohan folded his hands.

Buaji frowned. “Drive back immediately?” she asked. “Never, Nandkisore,” she ruled. “This is Gomti Sadan. No guest who crosses our gate goes without having a meal here, Mohan. Come in, have food, take rest. Only then will we let you go.”

“Buaji, nahiiiii,” poor Mohan tried to refuse.

Khushi told him with a smile, “Mohanji, don’t argue with Buaji. You will never win. Better obey her.”

Mohan nodded with a scared look at Buaji’s military stance.

                                                  ***

The childhood friends were in Preetho’s bedroom, packing her clothes and belongings for her.

Khushi looked at Preetho’s happy face, feeling happy for her but sad for herself. She had never anticipated her wedding so eagerly, having been pushed into it by circumstances, never mooned over her groom or his photo, never been teased by her friends, never felt the thrill of starting a new life with a man she liked...It had all happened in a hurry. She had been pushed, driven, rushed into her marriage. And that too to a man she had only heard of.

She hadn’t worried about how her marriage would turn out then. She had been more worried about Jiji’s wedding. She had left her own fate to Devi Maiyya.

She looked down at her fingers clutching the fringe of her dupatta.

After the wedding had come the murder attempt and the almost surreal experiences after the event. Two months later, she was still stuck in a limbo, scared to more ahead, terrified to move back.

“Khushi, how is your husband? I know he is handsome, but does he treat you with care?” Preetho asked.

Khushi looked at Preetho’s worried face.

She was lucky, she thought. Her marriage had been a gamble but it had paid off. Arnavji was decent, hardworking and very responsible, very caring.

“Yes, very,” she replied.

“He looked a bit forbidding at the wedding. Isliye I was scared for you,” Preetho confessed.

Khushi smiled. “He just looks that way sometimes,” she replied mildly. “He is very nice, very patient.” She tried to shift the focus to Preetho’s groom. “What about Vikas?” she asked.

Preetho blushed. “Pata nahi what happened when I saw him for the first time. My heart stopped, Khushi.”

“Love at first sight?” Payal teased.

Preetho nodded and all laughed.

Love at first sight? Khushi thought. Their first sight had been while rolling in the mud trying to escape the bullets. Arnavji had stared at her and she had stared at him. Love? They had been too busy trying to save their lives...

Her phone rang. Arnavji.

“Hello,” she murmured, her eyes lowered to Preetho’s bedspread.

Preetho nudged Payal, their eyes eager, their ears cocked.

“Khushi,” was all he said.

Khushi’s lips trembled.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked.

Preetho grimaced at Payal. Breakfast? Khushi was worried about poori and aloo rather than his heart?

“Yes. You?” he asked.

“Ji. I am at Preetho’s house. Jiji and she are with me. We are packing for her,” Khushi explained. “Aap?” she asked.

“Office,” he said. “I have meetings all day.”

“Please don’t forget to take your lunch,” she murmured.

Preetho looked at Payal, disgusted at Khushi’s lack of romance. She whispered in Payal's ear, "Khushi has taken the saying 'The way to a man's heart is through his stomach' to mean something else altogether."

Payal grimaced.

Arnav nodded. He desperately wanted to ask her if she would return to him, but manfully managed to hold his tongue. He had spent all night tossing and turning, hugging her pillow and breathing in her scent...

“Are you happy, Khushi?” he finally asked.

Khushi parted her lips to say yes, but her tongue refused to utter the lie.

She was saved the trouble.

“Khushi, something has come up. I will call you later,” Arnav said, glaring at the employee who had come to call him for his next meeting.

Khushi cut the call.

She lifted her head to see Payal and Preetho staring at her.

“Kya?” Khushi asked.

“You must be the most unromantic girl on earth!” Preetho exclaimed.

“Poor Arnavji,” Payal muttered.

“You can’t even whisper sweet nothings in his ear?” Preetho chided her. “He is away from you and you can’t even talk lovingly to him? Even fifth standard girls do better with their boyfriends.”

“You could have told him that you missed him, Khushi,” Payal rebuked her. “You do, don’t you? You spent all of last night twisting and turning in bed, your face looks as though a bee stung you and you have no appetite. Then why couldn’t you tell him you wanted to see him?”

Words trembled on Khushi’s lips, never to be uttered.

“Girls, here, have some sherbet,” Preetho’s mother entered the room with a tray in her hands.

The moment was lost. Khushi sank into her thoughts of her husband and her marriage as the other three talked cheerfully about the coming nuptials.

                                                          ***

Khushi lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

What was Arnavji doing now? She wondered. She turned her head and looked at the clock.

One at night.

She sat up, angry with herself. ‘What will he be doing at one, Khushi? Sitting up and praying for you? Get a hold on yourself. If you think about Arnavji all night and wake up with a heavy head, you will have no one to blame except yourself,’ she told herself.

But her heart strayed towards him. His eyes that had looked at her on Teej night had a fire in it, turning the chocolate brown into the colour of hot honey...

“Khushi, kya hua?” Payal muttered sleepily, sitting up.

“Fire,” Khushi murmured.

“Kahan?” Payal sat up, her big eyes widening to their full proportion.

“Nothing, Jiji,” Khushi muttered, her face turning red. She dived into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

“This girl will be the end of me,” Payal grumbled as she settled down to sleep.

                                            ***

Ladies were inspecting Preetho’s new clothes stitched for her wedding, her jewellery and finery. They teased Preetho and made fun of her groom. All laughed as Preetho blushed.

Khushi sat quietly in a corner.

Soon the jokes ended and the ladies began to sing old wedding songs, clapping their hands in time to music.

Khushi leaned back against the wall, letting her head loll. She had a headache; her eyes hurt. But Arnavji’s face was in her head 24x7. What could she do?

She shut her eyes.

She saw in her mind his tense face as he had caught her hand in his and walked and ran through the forest, his alert eyes looking for their killers, his protective stance, his warm, caring touch, the way he had handed over his coat to her, the gentle touch of his hands as he had removed her small bangles from her arms, the warmth of his hard body as they huddled together in the cave, the way he had carried her across the mire, his arms forming a safe cradle for her, how he had refused to go on without her, how he had carried her to the nearest town...

“Why is our bandariya looking tired and gloomy?” Kamla chachi asked, ruffling Khushi’s hair.

“Nothing, Kamla chachi,” she smiled.

“Is there any achi khabar, Madhumatiji?” Kamla chachi asked.

Khushi blushed. Payal was no less red.

Buaji laughed. “No, Kamla,” she said. “Give them time.”

“Let me know, Khussi,” Kamla chachi said smiling at her. “I will leave mango pieces on my terrace to dry.”

Khushi nodded, feeling a total fraud. If only Arnavji were here with her!

                                              ***

HP came to collect the tray of food he had left in Arnav’s room, only to find that it was untouched.

He looked at Arnav working on his laptop and said timidly, “Arnav bhaiyya, you haven’t eaten anything.”

Arnav lifted his head to look at HP. “I am not hungry, HP,” he said softly before lowering his eyes to his laptop.

“Arnav bhaiyya,” HP called. “I made dal just like Khushi bhabhi makes.”

Arnav swallowed hard.

“I am not hungry, HP,” he repeated softly.

“When will Khushi bhabhi return?” HP was forced to ask. Arnav bhaiyya had lost weight. His face had become lean, there were hollows in his cheeks. His eyes had circles beneath them and his cheekbones were prominent.

“By the end of this week,” Arnav said hopefully.

HP nodded and left with the tray, counting the days in his head. If only the week ended soon!

                                                 ***

Khushi slipped into exhausted sleep, her body too tired to keep up with the punishing schedule she had put it through.

She saw his eyes light up as she walked to join him on Teej, his eyes roving over her in the lehenga choli he had gifted her.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her blanket.

She felt his body crowding her, pulling her into its safe warmth, his mouth touching her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks...and then her lips.

Khushi shivered in her bed.

She felt him pulling her closer against his hard length, felt his lips press more confidently against hers, felt them suck at her curves, tasted him in her mouth... A wild longing raged like fire within her.

Her arms reached out to hold him close but could feel only air.

She jumped up, her eyes wild. Where was Arnavji?

She looked around. Her bedroom in Lucknow. Her Jiji sleeping by her side.

Khushi buried her head in her hands. Arnavji, Arnavji, her heart chanted.

                                              ***

Arnav called Khushi.

“Khushi, when will you return?” he asked bluntly, fed up, exhausted, desperate to see her.

Khushi swallowed. “Preetho’s wedding is on Sunday morning. We were thinking of returning on Monday or Tuesday,” she said softly.

He saw red. The dam of his patience broke. “I will send Mohan on Sunday, Khushi,” he ruled. “Return as soon as the wedding is over.”

“Arnavji...” she protested weakly, shocked.

“No more excuses, Khushi. I miss you like crazy. Do you know how hard it has been to sleep in our bed without you?” he fumed.

She listened to him, speechless. Arnavji too? He was feeling as lost as she was?

“You are never leaving me again. Got it, Khushi? If you want to go to Lucknow, then I will accompany you. If I have to travel, you will come with me. Bas,” he put his foot down.

She drew in air to calm her excitement. “Are you sure?” Khushi asked, worried. “Woh kya he, if I become a real wife, I will be a very inconvenient and cumbersome wife as well.”

“What have I been telling you for days, Khushi? I want you as my wife, inconvenient, real, complicated, cumbersome, difficult—whatever. Got it?” he bellowed.

“Ji,” she acquiesced, shocked at his words and the depth of emotion behind them.

“Sunday noon, Khushi,” he warned. “No more excuses.”

“Ji, I will be ready,” Khushi replied, feeling a trickle of happiness seep into her heart.

“And call me daily,” he ordered.

“Ji?” she asked in wonder.

“Call me daily. Tell me how you spend the day, how you feel, your dreams. Don’t cut the call after asking if I had breakfast or lunch or dinner,” he decreed.

“Ji,” she flushed.

“Do you know what I would do if you were before me right now, Khushi?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously exciting.

“Kya?” she asked bravely. There were kilometres separating them. She could afford to be brave.

“Hug you and kiss you, Khushi, till all thoughts flee your mind and you can think only of me,” he proclaimed.

Khushi blushed. “Arnavji,” she cried. Her dreams and his desire seemed one and the same.

“We are married, Khushi. I am your husband and you are my wife. You have full right over me, Khushi. It is your haq to own all of me. Samjhi tum?” he asked.

Khushi nodded with difficulty.

“You can tell me anything, ask me anything, Khushi. That is why I told you how much I am missing you,” he explained.

“Ji,” she stammered.

“Khushi,” he said seriously. “I am just getting the hang of what a marriage is all about. We will learn together, get there one day, after making a hundred mistakes on the way.”

She nodded vigorously, relieved.

“Khushi, are you missing me?’ he asked openly.

“Y..yess,” she admitted.

Peace flooded his heart.

“Good,” he said outrageously. “You were the one who wanted to go away from me. I never wanted you to leave me. Now miss me.”

Khushi pursed her lips. “Arnavji,” she protested. “You are a big tease.”

“You are no better, my dear patni. We are well suited. See you on Sunday. Till then think of the kiss I am going to give you when we meet,” he said, his very voice sending tingles down her spine.

Part 15