The day is 14 August, 2012. The contract marriage between Arnav Singh Raizada and Khushi Kumari Gupta stands no more and it is now time to end things once and for all.
And yet, as the two of them move apart, their hearts still beat for each other. T...
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Falling out of love is hard, falling for betrayal is worse, Broken trust and hearts. I know, I know.
And thinking all you need is there, building faith on love and words, empty promises will wear, I know, I know.
Arnav entered his house through the back door. He had every intention to avoid crossing paths with any one of his family members, especially when they were all in the mood of badgering him at every chance they get.
A resigned indignation rushed through him as he dreaded arriving at his room as this morning, Nani, Di and Mama-ji had all congregated there to corner him. Fortunately, though, the course was clear, and he increased his pace. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, pressed his forehead against the frame, and let out a deep breath.
There was a heaviness in his chest that weighed him down and a lump that rose in his throat that throbbed uncomfortably. Trying to swallow it down, he turned around and began unbuttoning his blazer. He attacked his shirt next, his movements rough and sloppy. Snatching the first set of night clothes he saw when he opened his wardrobe, he marched into the bathroom.
Later when he stood with his palms planted on the wall and his face turned upwards to the showerhead, he fought the hankering to scream in infuriation. The cold water was not freezing enough. Not sufficient to grant the icy sensation that he currently craved, one that would stop his mind from working even if it was momentarily. At the bare minimum, he wanted the harshness of the cold to drown out the ache that was no longer in his control, the ache that he could no longer find it in himself to hide.
He cursed when he shut off the water and swiped the towel once or twice mindlessly across his body before slipping into a pair of black pants and white shirt. The materials clung to his still damp skin, but he didn’t care. Almost pulling the door off its hinges, he emerged from the bathroom. His hand rose high in the air, intent on flinging the towel on the bed when the door opened.
He swore again, this time under his breath and hurriedly placed the towel onto the recliner. He worked himself fast into a state of composure before his sister arrived in front of him.
Her sweet, kind face was unusually impassive, and her otherwise twinkling eyes were red. Arnav felt a slight pinch in his chest at the look of her.
“I brought you dinner,” Di said, lifting up the tray she was carrying before dropping it on the side table. Arnav watched her movements getting slower, almost as if she was debilitating while straightening herself. He sprang into action instantly when she raised her head.
“Di, I know what you’re going to say,” he began, his tone exasperated yet subdued, for he could no longer disguise the weariness that was growing within him. “I know you and everyone else thinks I am being irrational or impatient or that I am too harsh, or whatever, but…” he paused to exhale a deep breath, “…but I do know what I am doing. Trust me. I know what I want. What I need.”
