142. OS 6: An Unwanted Wife

OS: 6 An Unwanted Wife

Arnav Singh Raizada clenched his fists in anger as he watched his Di and Mami lead the brides up the steps to their respective bedrooms.

“The weddings are finally done. Thank God, everything went off well, Amma,” Mama told Nani.

“Devi Maiyya is very kind to us, Manohar. If Manorama had not had a tiff with you and packed her bags and gone to Lucknow, she would have never met her old school friend, Garimaji and we would have never seen Payaliyya and Khussi bitiyya,” Nani said smiling. “And today my grandsons would not be married to them.”

Akash blushed. Arnav’s face too grew red, but with fury, not bashfulness. He turned and walked away towards his room, his jaw clenched lest he say his mind to a Nani who had left her sick bed only a week back.

“Chotey, wait a while. Anjali bitiyya must be helping Khussi bitiyya settle down in your room,” Nani smiled as though she could not feel the waves of fury emanating from her grandson.

He bit his tongue and strode up to his room. His phone rang. Aman.

“Yes,” he bit out.

“Sir, I have arranged a breakfast meeting at eight with Mehra at The Horizon,” Aman said.

“Fine,” ASR stated.

“I will get the documents ready, Sir. When should I meet you?” Aman asked.

“Six. At the office,” ASR said shortly.

“Yes, Sir,” Aman, used to ASR’s weird working hours, displayed no shock.

ASR cut the call and pushed the doors of his bedroom open.

“Chotey!” Anjali exclaimed. “I was about to call you,” she said, her voice faltering slightly at the rage on his face.

He held the door open for her to leave.

 She turned to look at Khushi sitting on the bed beneath a canopy of flowers, her head and face covered by a rich red dupatta, waiting for her bridegroom to lift her ghoonghat. Anjali swallowed hard. Nani, Mami and she had tricked Chotey in to the marriage. The tricking part had been easy. The difficult part was getting Chotey to accept his bride.

 Poor Khushiji.

 She stole a look at Chotey’s eyes. They were burning with anger and contempt. She left the room, hearing the door shut with a bang behind her.

 She winced.

ASR looked at the figure waiting for him, his insides burning with indignation.

When Nani had presented Khushi’s photo to him, he had thrown it across the table unseen and told her in no uncertain terms that he had no intenton of marrying anyone.

She, Di and Mami had tried to persuade him to reconsider his decision.

 He had told them that he had no faith in love and marriage, especially after witnessing the hell his parents’ marriage had been.

 They had cried, they had pleaded, they had threatened, they had cajoled, but he had held firm.

One day, after a tiring day at work, he had returned home to be attacked by the ladies. He had lost his temper and had packed his bags to leave the house. As he had walked down the steps, bag in hand, Nani had collapsed on the floor.

Then had followed a week’s hospitalisation even though the doctors had not been able to find anything seriously wrong with her except old age and general weakness. In those hours of acute worry and guilt, Nani had forced him to agree to the marriage.

He had given in with little grace, flying to Lucknow at the last minute and marrying the girl unseen.

ASR looked at the girl waiting for him, feeling terribly put upon, vexed, piqued. He looked away, irked beyond his control, angry at fate and his family.

“Arnavji,” the girl called from beneath the dupatta.

He jerked to look at her. What the!

“Arnavji, can you please lift my ghoonghat?” she pleaded, her voice sweet and pleasing.

He stared at her as though his eyes could pierce through the veil.

“Buaji and Amma said that I should not anger or irritate you. I am sorry, but can you please lift the ghoonghat? I am terribly thirsty. We have been travelling all day,” she apologised even as she made the request.

His anger abated somewhat. Khushi was not to be blamed. She was as much a victim as he was.

Almost without his volition, he moved towards the bed and parted the sweet-smelling curtain with his hands. He sat down by her and lifted the dupatta covering her face.

 His breath stopped.

She was beautiful, beyond beautiful. Her eyes were hazel, her skin creamy, her features fine. The gold ornaments with rubies and emeralds made her glow.

She smiled at him. “Shukriya,” she said.

ASR could only stare at her.

She lifted hands laden with gold and glass bangles and pushed her dupatta back off her head and on to the bed.

He drew in a deep breath.

Long hair in a single plait, adorned with jasmine flowers. Maang tikka, heavy necklace, hanging earrings...

She shifted to the edge of the bed and stood up.

His breath left his body.

Short red choli. Red and green lehenga. A thin gold waist chain hanging around a beautifully-shaped waist. His eyes ran up and down her well-formed figure, feeling as though they had come across some miracle, some rare sight...as though she had been crafted for him, moulded, sculpted to erode his defences, born for him.

He watched her walk to the cabinet near the mirror, lift the jug, pour water in to a glass and drink it. The sound of glass bangles filled his ears.

“Shall I pour out a glass for you?’ she asked.

He shook his head, not really cognisant of what he was agreeing to.

She brought him a glass of water and held it out.

He lifted a hand and took the glass from her, his fingers touching the tips of hers.

His mouth dry, he took the glass to his mouth and sipped.

A few drops fell on his cream sherwani.

To his shock, he felt her pull out the hanky from the pocket of his sherwani and dab at his chest.

“K...Khushi...” he whispered.

She looked up smiling. “Have you finished?” she asked.

He nodded.

She took the glass from him and returned it to its place. His eyes followed the movement of her waist chain as she walked towards him.

“Shall we change?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“I have to remove all these,” she frowned at her jewellery. She went to stand before the mirror. He watched as she unfastened her necklace and her earrings. Her fingers fought with her maang-tikka.

“Arnavji, can you help me? Aaa..” she yelped as her attempt at removing the ornament hurt her. Her hair had trapped the piece.

His feet took him towards her. His fingers fought her hair and rescued her ornament from the strands.

She tried to find the hook of her waist chain but his eyes and fingers found it before she could. He removed it, letting it fall to the ground.

“Aap kitne ache ho,” she breathed, looking in to his face. “Just as I dreamed.”

He swallowed hard.

“Aap ko pata he Arnavji, I was scared to agree to the marriage without seeing you,” she said. “When our families planned a double wedding, I begged Di to ask you to come to Lucknow and meet me atleast once, but she said that you were too busy, that it was impossible for you to travel, that you had seen my photo and were willing to marry me but could not come down before our wedding. I was so scared, Arnavji, that I didn’t sleep nights. I prayed and prayed before looking at your photo. Then I met Jiju. He spoke so highly of you and is such a gentleman that I knew his brother couldn’t be any less...I knew what you were through him.” Her smile lit up the room. She looked as though she had won the first prize in some marathon.

ASR stared at her, speechless. She had listened to Di’s lies and Akash’s hero worship and decided to marry him?

“Shukriya for helping me,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him.

He stood as if turned to stone.

“Buaji said that I should look after you, take care of you with prem, not fight with you or get in to any trouble as I usually do in Lucknow. That I am fortunate to get such a good man as my husband. Arnavji, I promise I will try to be the best wife on earth. Devi Maiyya ki kasam,” she promised, her arms tight around his waist, her head against his shoulder.

His arms hung helplessly by his sides. ASR was too shocked to respond. What had he gotten himself in to? What had his family pushed Khushi in to after offering her a spiel of lies?

Section 2

ASR woke up first. He stared at the wilted flower canopy over his head, recalling everything that had happened over the last month.

He turned his head to the left and saw Khushi’s sweet face on the second pillow. She was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted after the double wedding and the travel. He sat up to feel a pull on his T-shirt. Her fingers were locked around the hem of his T-shirt.

He parted his lips to call her but thought the better of it. Slowly his fingers enclosed hers and gently prised them off his clothing.

She sighed, frowned and turned her face away.

Arnav gently pulled up the blanket to cover her shoulders.

She shifted restlessly.

He left the bed and went to freshen up. He then returned and took down the decorations around the bed. Taking care not to disturb the sleeping beauty, he had a shower, dressed in formal clothes, took his laptop and files and left for office. Aman would be waiting for him.

When he returned from his breakfast meeting, the door of his house was shut. It swung open even as he lifted his hand to knock.

Hs new bride stood in the entrance, beaming at him.

“Arnavji, I woke up and looked for you, but couldn’t find you. Then Di said that you must have gone to fix some deal. Did you have breakfast?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“I asked Di about the pills you need to take,” she informed him, standing aside for him to enter the house. She shut the door after him and took hold of his hand as she chattered. “I have kept them on the low table beside your green recliner. Aap ko pata he humne kya kiya? I attended aarti with Jiji. Then I helped Hari Prakashji make breakfast. Then I made friends with Laxmiji.”

“Who?” he asked. Had Di employed a new maid? Or was she some crony of Nani’s?

“Laxmiji, Naniji’s goat,” she smiled.

ASR felt a small smile tease his lips.

She walked up the steps with him.

“Did you have breakfast?” he asked.

“No, I was waiting for you,” she smiled, her good humour unimpaired.

“Khushi,” he sighed. “You don’t have to wait for me. Eat when you are hungry. My hours are crazy.”

“Your hours may be totally insane but I am still waiting for you,” she declared, a militant look in her eyes.

“Khushi,” he demurred.

“Who else will wait for you?” she asked.

He had no reply to give.

“I am your wife, Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada. It is my right, my haq to wait for you,” she declared.

He set his bag on the table by a dish holding his pills.

“Khushi, I don’t believe in all this crap,” he began. “This fasting, starving, waiting, praying...all these get on my nerves. Don’t do it for me. Please.”

Khushi threw her arms around him. With her ear against his heart, she said, “Aap kitne ache hein! You are so concerned about me.”

ASR stood with his mouth open, with nothing to say.

Section 3

Payal served Akash. He smiled at her. Payal blushed and sat down by him.

Nani, Di and Mami smiled at the sight and then turned their eyes to ASR and Khushi.

 His face was closed, his eyes on the plate before him. Khushi was serving him, but his attention was on his conversation with Aman on the phone held in his left hand. It could have been HP or JP or OP for all the attention she was getting from her husband.

Nani sighed.

 She looked at Mami and Di. They had pushed Khushi in to marrying Arnav. They had blackmailed Arnav in to marrying Khushi. Had they been really fair to Khushi? It had been one week after the wedding and her Chotey still looked through his wife. He never spoke to her, never showed a bit of affection to her. He hadn’t even attended her mukhdikhai although he had sent Akash home for the event. Poor Khushi, Nani thought, her heart aching.

Suddenly ASR stood up, leaving his breakfast untouched.

“I need to go to the office,” he muttered to nobody and shrugged in to his coat.

“Bhai, I will join you,” Akash said, startled. He stood up, leaving his meal.

“No. Get there at nine in time for the meeting with the Finance Manager. I will deal with this,” ASR replied before walking away.

The ladies watched Khushi running after him to the door with worried eyes.

Out of their sight, ASR paused. They were at the door.

“I need to go through a couple of documents before meeting Sharma of Yarns Ltd at ten,” he muttered.

“Aap jaayiye,” Khushi smiled. “I will send your breakfast to office. Just promise me that you will have it,” Khushi held out her hand demanding his word.

ASR smiled slowly before placing his palm on hers, sealing his promise.

Khushi walked in to him, hugging him with all her might for no reason at all except that each time he smiled his rare, slow smile, she felt like hugging him and inhaling him, absorbing him in to her being till he couldn’t walk away.

ASR’s hand lifted slowly to her head. He patted her silky hair awkwardly before leaving, seeing her waving vigorously at him through the rear-view mirror.

ASR smiled. She would send him more food than a man could eat and then phone him at the office to make sure that he had eaten his fill.

Khushi stood watching Arnavji’s car disappear from sight, feeling her heart float with joy. She was so lucky to have such a good man like Arnavji as her husband. He was slightly reserved and appeared cold to others, but to her he was kindness personified. He may lose his temper with his employees and his family, but never with her. With her he was soft as silk, indulgent, patient. He worked too hard, hated watching Bollywood films, didn’t know how to crack jokes and relax with his family...Maybe he didn’t know how to sing and dance like her favourite phillum heroes, but to her he was the man, her man.

 Just the thought of him was enough to bring glad tears to her eyes. It was not his looks or his wealth or his power that gladdened her heart.

 It was the fact that he had willingly given an orphan a home in his heart, a place in his life. Her heart clenched in gratitude and love. After years and years of living in Lucknow as the adopted daughter of Sasi Gupta, after a childhood of listening to Jiji’s grandmother’s jibes about being burdened with a homeless, penniless orphan, she now had a husband of her own, a home of her own, people whom she could claim as her relations...all because of him, her Arnavji.

She thought furiously, her hands clutched to her chest in happiness. What could she do for him in return? Knit a sweater? Rearrange his wardrobe? Buy him clothes? Cook healthy delicacies for him? How could she show her gratitude and love to him for marrying her? For wanting to make her a part of his life?

Section 4

ASR filled a pot with potting mixture, his mind on Khushi. She was like a breath of fresh air in his house, a butterfly in colourful anarkalis that went flitting from room to room, chattering nineteen to a dozen. She hadn’t spared even Aman. He had dropped in with a file and Khushi had talked his ear off while feeding him poori after poori.

 ASR smiled.

“Arnavji,” Khushi called.

He turned to look at her. She was striding towards him, a tray with two steaming cups in her hands. Laxmi..no, Laxmiji was following her, eyeing Khushi’s flying pink dupatta as her next meal.

“Khushi, let HP do this,” he said half-heartedly as he had been saying every day for the past two weeks.

“No, it is my haq,” she smiled as she set the tray on the small table by the pool. “Arnavji, what are you planting in these pots?”

“Roses,” he muttered as he washed up.

She drew in a deep breath of delight. “Red?” she asked, an eager light in her eyes.

“No, white,” he said to tease her. She loved colours. The brighter, the more garish they were, the more she loved them. Her flourescent anarkalis hurt his eyes and his sensibilities as the owner of a fashion firm on most days, but he hadn’t felt like asking her to opt for pastel shades. Somehow bright colours and Khushi went together.

Her face fell for a moment before she perked up. “Rang nahi he to kya hua, they will smell sweet,” she consoled herself.

ASR looked at her with wondering eyes. What was she made of, this girl who saw everything in a positive light?

“Arnavji, two friends of Mamiji are coming to tea this evening,” she informed him.

“Acha?” he muttered as he sipped the hot cardamom tea that she made for him with her own hands. Must be a couple of witches Mami befriended on a regular basis at her kitty parties, he thought.

“I promised Mamiji that I will make jalebi for them,” Khushi said, dragging her chair closer to his.

“Khushi, there are a dozen maids here. They can do it. Or Mami can buy them. You don’t have to do this,” ASR tried to make his eyes stern.

Khushi pouted. “But I want to, Arnavji. And I will make sugar-free jalebis for you.”

ASR looked down in to his empty cup. He was relishing being the centre of her universe, the pivot around which her entire day revolved. It was a dangerous feeling, he knew. It wouldn’t last, he knew. Love or what passed as love, died, leaving behind devastated families and helpless children. And with Khushi, it was not love but a mixture of duty and social expectation. He seriously doubted if she had any idea of romance or a physical relationship between a man and a woman. She had taken their platonic relationship as normal and had no complaints about any aspect of their life together.

She took the cup from his hand and placed it on the tray.

“Arnavji, Di is planning a satsang tomorrow evening. Will you return early from office?” she asked.

His eyes widened in horror. Another prayer?

“No,” he said shortly.

Khushi giggled.

He looked at her in surprise. He had expected tears and pouts.

“Your face...your look when I asked you to attend the satsang...” she clutched her tummy laughing.

He had to look away to hide a smile.

She cupped his face with a loving hand. “If you don’t want to attend it, don’t, Arnavji. From what Di told me, the house will be overrun with ladies tomorrow evening. You will find it difficult to work in peace. You stay in office. I will call you and let you know when it is over.”

He looked at her with surprised eyes. He was unused to being given the space to breathe, relieved that Khushi had not made nagging him her hobby as his Di had.

She called him when the satsang finished and he drove back to a home that was thankfully free of his Nani’s and Mami’s friends.

As he finished changing in to casual wear, Khushi came in to the room.

“Arnavji, prasad,” she said, holding a spoon of kheer to his lips.

He parted his lips and let her feed him.

“Is it good?” she asked. “I made it for you.”

“Very good,” he murmured, a small smile blooming on his lips at her expectant look.

Khushi smiled, her face lighting up as though she had won the Nobel Prize for Happiness.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him.

Arnav drew in a deep breath. He was getting too fond of being hugged by her for no reason, looking forward to having her soft body in his arms.

Section 5

“Khushi, get me the black file from the wardrobe?’ he asked.

Khushi walked to the wardrobe on happy feet and slid the door open. She took the black file out. Beneath it was a gift-wrapped package.

“Arnavji, there is a packet here,” she said slowly.

“Really?” he asked.

She lifted it.

Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada was written on it.

“Arnavji, my name is written on it,” she whispered in wonder.

“Then it must be for you,” he said in pretended nonchalance.

She returned to him with the file and the packet. She placed the file on his table by the laptop and sat on the carpet at his feet, the packet on her lap.

He looked at her.

She was staring at the gift, her fingers tracing her name scrawled on its bright cover.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

Khushi blinked away her tears and nodded.

She carefully unwrapped it and sat looking at the rich, red saree she unearthed, her fingers trembling. Tears filled her eyes and slowly trailed down her cheeks.

“Khushi?” He was shocked. Why was she crying because he had given her a saree? Weren’t husbands permitted to buy their wives clothes? Maybe she hated it...

“It is beautiful,” she choked, wiping away her tears.

“Then why the hell are you crying?” he asked, frowning.

“Because I like it too much,” she smiled through her tears.

ASR looked at her with confused eyes.

She laughed and setting the sari on the bed, got up and hugged him thoroughly, whispering her thanks against his heart.

Section 6

Boxes of expensive bangles and other jewellery were opened and placed before the Raizadas by Motilalji, their favourite jeweller.

Nani, Mami, Anjali, Payal and Khushi exclaimed over the pieces, Mami picking the heaviest of them and trying them on.

ASR sat nearby working on his laptop.

“Khushiji, try this,” Di handed over a couple of gold bangles studded with diamonds and their matching necklace and maang-tikka.

Khushi slipped them on. The ladies oohed and aahed over them, stealing glances at an ASR who kept his eyes on his laptop after one look at the bangles. Khushi would never take them, he knew. White diamonds were too colourless for her. He hid a smile as he heard his family trying to push her to choose them.

“Chotey, doesn’t this look good on Khushiji?” Anjali asked, trying to bring him closer to his wife.

He looked at Khushi’s hand, a bored expression in his eyes. There was no need for him to speak.

Anjali looked helplessly at Nani & Mami.

ASR saw Khushi’s hands move towards another jewellery set. He glanced at it. Rubies and emeralds. His eyes danced behind the cover of his lashes.

“Khushiji, try these,” Anjali said, pushing more diamond jewellery towards her.

“What about these?” Nani moved boxes of heavy gold and white gold jewellery closer to Khushi.

He sat waiting.

 After ten minutes of deliberation, Khushi slowly lifted two sets and looked at him. One was the rubies & emeralds one. The other was a white gold and diamonds set picked by Di.

He looked at the rubies and emeralds set and nodded, making sure that the others weren’t watching him.

 A big smile bloomed on her face. “I will take this, Nani,” she smiled, handing over the one he had picked.

“Chotey, look at Khushiji’s choice,” Anjali tried again. “Do you like it?”

He spared a cursory glance at the piece he had secretly approved for purchase. “It is her choice. She is the one wearing it, not me,” he said shortly.

The ladies frowned at him.

 All except Khushi who was holding his selection to her heart and smiling.

Section 7

“Arnavji, I want to fast tomorrow,” she declared one day, three months after their wedding.

He frowned.

“It is Teej, our first Teej,” she said.

“Khushi...” he sighed.

“Arnavji, Di, Jiji and Mamiji are fasting for their husbands and I want to do the same,” she pleaded.

Why did she have to starve for him? But how could he deny her anything? “Do what you like,” he muttered.

“Arnavji, can you return home early tomorrow? You have to break my fast in the evening,” she said.

He nodded.

“Shukriya, shukriya,” she chanted, hugging the life out of him. He put his arms around her and patted her back, breathing in her jasmine fragrance.

She would be starving the whole day. What if he couldn’t get home on time?

He called Aman a few minutes later after making sure that Khushi had left the room.

“I won’t be coming to the office tomorrow. I will be working from home. Send me the Singhania files,” he said.

“I will bring them over, Sir. It is Teej tomorrow. Bhabiji’s first Teej. She will be happy that you are at home,” Aman said smiling.

ASR swallowed hard. His reputation as a cold-hearted, cold-blooded leech and taskmaster was going to suffer the more his employees came to know Khushi.

“Send it with Mohan,” he instructed.

“Yes, Sir. Please convey my regards to Bhabhji,” Aman smiled.

Khushi had never visited his office. He had never invited her, never taken her there, not wanting to mix his private and professional lives. But Aman had met her at home; his drivers knew her for the kind soul she was. One or two employees who had tried to contact him at home had spoken to her. She was becoming an indispensable part of his life.

He smiled slowly.

“Khushiji,” Anjali began, feeling very uncomfortable about what she was going to ask.

Khushi looked up from her hands. Mamiji was drawing designs on her palms with mehendi. Payal had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Chotey...He takes care of everything, doesn’t he?” Anjali asked. 

Nani and Mami cocked their ears to hear her reply.

“Ji,” Khushi smiled. Arnavji was an intensely private man and she did not think he would enjoy her discussing him at length with others, not even his family.

“He..he does not shout, does he?” his sister asked.

Khushi thought about Arnavji scolding Laxmiji for eating some plant of his, of him being coldly critical of some employee over the phone, of his fury as some employee failed to meet the deadlines or submitted substandard work.

“Sometimes,” Khushi replied honestly, not realising that Anjali was asking about her husband’s attitude towards her.

“Woh...Khushiji, Chotey...I mean...why don’t you suggest that he takes you for a honeymoon?” Anjali asked.

Khushi frowned.

How could she ask Arnavji to take time off his work, especially as if they were going on a honeymoon, Akashji and Mamaji too would be accompanying them? Who would look after the office? And was it safe to leave the house unattended as the whole family went on a holiday?

“Arnavji may not like it,” Khushi said thoughtfully.

The ladies stared at her with pity and pain in their eyes.

 Three months had passed since their wedding. Akash and Payal were openly happy. But what about the other pair that had married with them? What was the relationship between Chotey and Khushiji? Had Chotey got over his anger at being tricked in to marriage? Was their relationship platonic or had Chotey committed himself to Khushiji?

They had no answers.

ASR worked in his room on Teej, leaving Khushi to join the Raizada ladies and other guests in the living room that had been decorated for the festival.

She popped her head in to the room. “Arnavji, do you need anything?” she asked.

ASR hid his smile. “No. I am good. As good as I was five minutes back when you asked me,” he drawled.

She giggled, her laughter sounding like a wind chime.

His eyes twinkled though his lips remained straight.

“Aap khul ke hasiye na?” she exhorted him. “How can you laugh with your eyes alone?” she marvelled at his feat.

He looked down at his laptop.

“I am sorry for disturbing you, Arnavji. It is just that I am so happy you are here all day,” she confessed.

“Go down and pester the hell out of Nani, Mami and Di,” he suggested evenly.

“I will. I promise.” Khushi left the room chuckling.

He let himself smile, amused at her antics.

Section 8

“Bhai, it is time for the pooja,” Akash came to summon him.

ASR saved his work and got up to accompany Akash to the living room. The men walked down to join the ladies.

ASR almost tripped. Khushi was wearing the red sari he had gifted her along with the jewels he had purchased for her from Motilalji. She looked beautiful, more beautiful than on their wedding night if that was possible.

He was in his jacket, shirt and trousers, his regular formal clothes while working at home. He should have changed, he thought, kicking himself in his mind. Akash was wearing a cream kurta as befitting the occasion. Arnav looked at Khushi. Would she mind?

Khushi smiled at Arnav. She was so happy that he was with her and mice were gnawing on her guts to worry about his clothes.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

 Akash blushed when Payal stole a look at him.

The pooja began.

ASR watched his Mami do Mama’s aarti and bend to touch his feet. Mama then gave Mami a sip of water and a bite from the sweet on her thali.

ASR watched Akash and Payal go through the motions.

Then it was his turn. ASR stood still, his face expressionless as Khushi did his aarti. The joy on her face was a sight to behold. 

As she bent to touch his feet, he moved back.

The Raizada ladies tensed. Did he hate Khushiji still?

Khushi’s eyes asked him a question. She moved closer to him. He moved back again, his eyes telling her that he would not tolerate her touching his feet.

Khushi smiled, shaking her head. He was so concerned about her, so considerate. Happy tears filled her eyes as he gave her a sip of water.

The Raizada ladies looked at the tears in Khushi’s eyes and cursed themselves for having thrown this lamb in to the lion’s den.

Arnav knew she was starving. So he took a full jalebi and shoved it in to her mouth instead of breaking it in to smaller pieces.

Khushi choked with laughter and the jalebi, knowing very well that he hated to think of her being hungry.

The Raizadas clutched their hearts at their Chotey’s cruelty. How could he insult Khushiji like this before the entire neighbourhood?

As they watched, Khushi swayed. They gasped. But before she could fall, ASR’s arms held her.

“Khushi,” he growled.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was not clear in her vision, but she knew his touch, his voice, the concern lacing his growl.

“How many times did I ask you not to fast?” he bit out, worry for her making his tone harsh.

“I am fine, Arnavji,” she tried to smile at him so as not to worry him.

He lifted her and took her to Nani’s room and laid her gently on the bed. All the Raizadas crowded around her.

ASR called the doctor and then asked HP to supply Khushi with food and water, his tone conveying his fury that she had endangered her health to pray for him.

ASR walked about near the door, frowning, his fists clenched, impatiently waiting for the doctor.

“Bhai, please don’t be angry with Khushiji,” Akash tried to save the poor girl from what he thought was ASR’s wrath.

ASR’s eyes silenced his brother.

HP led the doctor in. Arnav and Akash stood with their family outside Nani’s room, letting the lady doctor examine his wife.

Payal stayed by Khushi’s side.

The doctor called the family in.

“Who is Payal’s husband?” she asked smiling.

“I am,” Akash said nervously.

“Congrats. You are going to be a father,” she said.

Akash fell to the ground in a dead faint.

After they revived him and hugged everyone they could find, the Raizadas looked eagerly towards Khushi.

“How is Khushi?” ASR asked, his brows meeting in a frown.

“Ijj she pregnant too?” Mami asked eagerly.

Khushi paled. Her timid eyes met her husband’s disconcerted ones.

“No,” the doctor said. “Her sugar levels are low. She will be perfect once she has some food.”

After all left the room, ASR marched over to the bed and gathered Khushi in his arms.

“Arnavji,” she whispered.

“It is like a madhouse in here. You rest in our room,” he ordered but in a soft voice.

The Raizadas watched ASR carry his wife up the stairs to his room, his face dark, his eyes stormy.

Section 9