Chapter Text
The day was damned from the get-go, so it's no surprise that Arnav couldn't be mindfully present and get any work done. His mind strayed where his feet couldn't; two streets down the block, on the right, next to a dry cleaner shop... To the life that so easily flourished in the wake of disregarding him. Khushi had wasted no time after she'd left him and built herself a glorious independent life with a business of her own and friends to spend time with and all. The contrast between how he had been when she first disappeared and how she seemed to manage slit his scar anew.
In his office, he marched back and fourth across the space. Sometimes he would inch toward the door with a terrible idea for a destination, then he would retreat back. He would fasten his tie, then disregard it altogether. Unbutton his collar and run his hands over and over through his hair. The more he stood in this office, the theatrics of his impatience grew more dramatic.
He would hate it, therefore he should do it. He should take whatever measure that would fuel his hatred. Soon he'd be filled with it and burst. Maybe then it would all quiet down, or he would go deaf. Whatever it would take to be rid of her. Eventually, Arnav surrendered to his curiosity and let it lead him where Lavanya's secretary said Khushi's shop would be.
He stared at the sign for few minutes before he allowed himself in.
“KKG Sweet Recipes”
Then, he burst right in. The space was empty if not for a bit of noise behind the counter. Footsteps seemed to ring closer after the sound of the door shutting behind him filled the space. “Can I help you to anything,” said some woman who was not Khushi.
“It doesn't seem like there's much to do around here,” Arnav remarked, looking around the place for emphasis.
She chuckled, “Ah, yes. We're more of a delivery-based business, but it's doing just fine. Who wants to deal with customers all day, anyway.”
Arnav nodded. From Dabba service to this, Khushi seems to have lost her knack for creativity.
“Do you have something in mind you would like?” she asked him.
Arnav scratched his jaw. “Do you have anything sugar-free?”
“Yes, it's quite literally our specialty,” she beamed at him, then turned to head inside. “You will love these ones, one second.”
Arnav was once again standing on his own, inspecting the space around him. Was this where Khushi spent her days while he searched for her like a madman? She was all over the place with the colorful decorations. All bright, it almost stinged his eyes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a picture hung on the wall, so he walked over to inspect it. It was a picture of Khushi and Lavanya in a scene that appears to be the opening ceremony of this shop. Some of Lavanya's friends were in the background, but that was it. Khushi was beaming down at the scissors in her hand and Lavanya had her arms across Khushi's Shoulders. He would never confess it, but Arnav felt jealous. He was jealous of her joy in this picture, but mostly, he was jealous he couldn't be somewhere in the background with her.
Then, a certain element in the picture drove him over the edge; Khushi's mangalsutre. She was wearing it in the picture, just like she did the other day. What does it mean to her? Why would she send him a signed divorce papers, then proceed with her life wearing her mangalsutre? Khushi didn't take those things lightly, he knows it better than anyone else. What belief did she put faith into by wearing her mangalsutre? Because it damn well wasn't her husband.
The shop's door shot open, and a wave of rustling sounds and plastic bags moved through the door. “Priya Ji,” Khushi yelled out. “Help!”
Arnav walked over and extended his hand to grab some of her bags from her hand, but something fell. “Devi Maiya, let this not be the fragile package,” Khushi peered over the gift boxes and met Arnav's unwavering gaze. She stared at him a moment before she slowly sneaked back behind the mountain of boxes she carried. Then, she passed him toward a table and put down the boxes, then the plastic bags, freeing herself from their weight.
“What are you doing here?” Khushi asked without looking at him.
Arnav crossed his arms and took two steps closer. “I can't come to your shop?”
“We're not "some good acquaintance", remember? I am surprised you would be interested in visiting my shop but not talk to me,” Khushi said, mimicking his crossed arms and standing her ground.
Priya reappeared into the shop. “Here's some of our best sugar-free d-” she froze at the sight of them both having their own staring contest in the middle of the shop. Arnav moved away, reaching for the box of desserts in Priya's hand without his eyes leaving Khushi's.
“That will be-”
“No need, Priya Ji,” Khushi interrupted Priya, then forced a smile at Arnav. “It's on the house.”
“I'll be in the back, then.”
Arnav nonchalantly grabbed a chair and sat himself down with his desserts box, and began to devour it, maintaining eye contact. “At least you got something out of the Raizada surname. You finally managed to establish a business,” Arnav said wryly.
“What do you really want?” Khushi attempted to master her best unbothered face, but Arnav saw right through it.
He leaned back in his chair while she stood across the table from him. “I wanted to see what you were up to for all these years, Khushi Kumari Gupta. I deserve that at the least, don't you think?” He stood up, hovering over her, “I deserve to know my value in your life, no? The sort of life that kept you from returning to me for five years, and I bet...” He leaned closer, placing his face right in front of hers. “You would have kept hiding forever, if it wasn't for this wedding.”
“I'm not discussing this with you,” Khushi attempted to walk away from him, but Arnav grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her, bringing her back against his chest.
“No, Khushi, you don't get to walk away now. I have questions which I'll get answered, you hear me?” he muttered close to her ear, while she writhed in his arm.
“Get away from her,” Priya called from across the counter with the broom in her hand. “Is this man bothering you?”
Arnav let go of her and shifted his gaze between them. “We're leaving, Khushi. Now.” Then, he preceded her outside, while Khushi stood there.
“Who was that? Do I need to call the cops?” Priya concernedly asked.
“No, no. There's no need. There's some complicated business we need to settle that's all. Don't worry, he won't hurt me. He's all anger and no actual offense,” Khushi quietly assured her. “Not since a long ago,” she whispered to herself. “Would you please help me get these in the car, Priya Ji?”
It's true that both got into the car with the intention of clearing things between them, but both sat there clearly unprepared for the conversation. Arnav, who Khushi thought would burst with questions any moment, remained frighteningly quiet. Whether he was as scattered as Khushi's thoughts were, or reluctant to jump into this bottomless abyss, she couldn't tell. His calmness was all a poorly executed facade that Khushi wouldn't have questioned if it wasn't for his death grip around the steering wheel. If that thing had any life in it, it would've been squeezed out long time ago.
Interrupting their perfect silence, the car began to lose speed and Arnav slowly steered it to the side of the road. A tiny bulb -that he hadn't noticed until this very second- kept flashing red light, announcing the car running out of gas somewhere halfway to the estate where they were heading.Arnav kept staring ahead for a while.
“It had a full tank of gas only yesterday, it couldn't-” Khushi began to explain but was interrupted by Arnav's balm punching the steering wheel few times, before he hastily removed his seat belt and got out of the car.
Khushi followed him, and stood aside while he marched back and forth.
Arnav covered his face with both hands and directed his face to the sky.
“Arnav Ji,” she faintly called for him.
He turn toward her no longer a blaze of anger, but someone who's poisoned with defeat. “I might have a bit of understanding of why you did it, Khushi, because I had nothing of you but a letter for five years and you've made it pretty clear why you left. But what I can't fathom for the life of me is how... How could you go along with it for five long years without once looking back or ever losing to your heart?
“You made me question everything we shared. I wondered if you have ever loved me enough. If you've ever loved me at all. Because if you went through half of what I did, you would've been back home in five days, Khushi. You went out of your way to cut ties with your family just to keep away from me, and I'm supposed to believe you have ever loved me?”
A stream of tears drenched Khushi's cheeks matching the phantom of all the ones Arnav withheld as he stood there before her. “I do love you,” she began to explain.
“LIAR!” he roared back, and she jerked away. “You've loved your god more than you've loved me, then you loved Arav, who you knew for few weeks. You kept choosing anything and everything over me, over and over again, Khushi.”
“It's because he's your son that I love him so,” Khushi yelled between suffocating sobs. “He needs both his parents, Arnav Ji, and you and Sheetal Ji couldn't be while I was in your lives. He deserved to have you both, and you deserved to have your son by your side. If I didn't love you, I would have stood by selfishly letting you make that mistake.
“You think it had been easy for me? You think I could've done it without loving you beyond being with you. I did it knowing exactly what I was losing and I couldn't look back to watch it as it played out, Arnav Ji.”
The passion of her belief and the profundity of her pain unsettled him. To attempt changing the first, he would deepen the latter. Arnav stood speechless, unable to make up his mind. Tell her the truth and shatter her belief in her sacrifice? Lead her to believe five years of her live had been wasted for nothing? That she had endured estrangment to everyone she knew for a child who did not exist in his life, not in the way she hoped.
What about his pain? What about his heart that grew claws and shredded him in pieces whenever Khushi was concerned? Arnav couldn't decide, not in this moment, whether it suited him to drag her to hell with him where they'd suffer but somehow they'd do it together, or let her be the hero of her own fantasy. He'd keep his grudge... he'd keep his anger, his pain, and maybe someday it would finally end him, but she would return to her little shop and make dessert for the rest of her life. She'd sleep content of her choices and decisions. She'd be a fool, but a content one.
That thought amused him. He could feed his grudge and satisfy it by believing he's making a fool of her by keeping her in the dark, like she has been making of him.
Arnav moved toward her. “Well, it's too late for it to mean anything, now. You diverge our paths for good.” He passed her, raising his arm to catch the attention of an approaching vehicle.
The car stopped and Arnav leaned into the passengers window to talked to the driver. Then, he opened the backseat door and stood beside it. “Let's go,” he called for Khushi.
She reacted to his voice after a moment of delay, then wiped her tears and turned around with a weak smile. “I can't leave the packages in my car. They need them.”
Arnav left the door wide open, and walked over to her car, sparing her one wounded glance. “I'll get them,” he calmly said.
While he moved the packages from one trunk to the other, Arnav couldn't but contemplate Khushi's unnerving priorities, and how he'd often find himself poorly placed among them. After he was done, he gently pulled her by her wrist and guided her into the backseat, then got into the passenger seat himself.
The ride was quiet, only intruppted by their clasping gazes through the rear view mirror.
Khushi was a tiny bit glad she got the chance to emphasise her love for him after all these years. In the moments her mind wandered back to that fateful night, she would always stress the contents of her letter. If she hadn't said enough. If she hadn't told him she loved him enough. Seeing as Arnav had barely any belief left in her love for him, it felt liberating to be able to tell him to his face that she does love him. More than anything.
But the way his eyes poured into hers through the mirror stole her assurance right back. She did not leave for him to wake up the next day feeling unlovable, and it weighted on her knowing he'd been across the world believing she left because she didn't love him.
The more times she met his gaze through the mirror, the more she felt love confessions piling in her throat.
After they reached their destination and the security men were left to handle the packages, Arnav began to turn to leave, both hands in his bockets and his suit jacket hanging from one arm.
“I'll never ask you to forgive me,” Khushi said, and Arnav froze on spot. “I was well aware you would get hurt in the process and I did it anyway, but it doesn't mean I didn't love you then. Arnav Ji, I still do. But I couldn't see Arav living the life of an orphan -like me- while his father was right there, only out of reach because of me.”
Arnav lazily turned around, and looked up at her with a pitiful smile. “And I wouldn't understand what being an orphan is like...” he nodded few times, looking down. Then looked up, shaking his head. “I just can't decide which's more merciful to believe... That you didn't love me enough to stay with me despite of everything, or that you didn't even trust me with figuring it out for the both of us.”
Then, Arnav turned around and left her out in the night.
