**ON HIATUS**
(IPKKND AU) This is no longer the story of a girl who crashed a fashion show and a man who thought she was a corporate spy.
It's her last year of college, and Khushi's family are looking for a husband for their youngest daughter. S...
Khushi greeted the dawn outside, a cup of tea clutched in her hands as she tried to contain her racing thoughts. She'd spent the night replaying each interaction of the afternoon until they'd threatened to lose all meaning. She'd barely slept. She'd also watched her family carefully for signs of acidity but no one seemed to feel it ... except her.
Which left only one explanation.
What's happening to me, Devi Maiyya? Why does he make me feel so strange?
A part of her desperately wanted to see him again, eager to test if yesterday's unexpected reactions would surface again, but most of her was terrified of him and what he provoked in her.
It's better if you stay away, Khushi.
Her father found her a few minutes later, sitting beside her on the divan in silence. He didn't ask questions as Amma and Bua-ji would have. Grateful, Khushi took her time to prepare her question, and only voiced it when she was ready.
"Babu-ji? How do I make a decision about a life-long partner after just one meeting? We didn't even talk to each other. How will I know?"
"You didn't ask this after the other men," Babu-ji observed, "Is there something different about this one?"
"I ..." Khushi fought her blush, "I don't know."
"Hmmm," Babu-ji smiled, "All I can tell you is that one meeting was all it took between your Amma and me. Bitiya ... we like him and his family. Trust your heart and listen to what it tells you. And when you're ready, tell us."
Nodding, Khushi kissed his cheek quickly before fleeing inside, dodging Bua-ji's questions to shut herself in her room.
"Khushi? Are you okay?"
Jiji turned to look at her in concern, but Khushi was frozen, thinking of a deeper, huskier voice saying the same words. She threw herself onto the bed and groaned into her pillow.
"Khushi? Khushi. Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick Jiji. Just confused."
"About ...?"
Khushi sat up quickly, laying the pillow across her lap.
"Jiji ... how did you know Abhishek-ji was the one? The one you want to marry?"
Blushing, Jiji turned her attention to the engagement ring she wore on her left hand.
"He was nice to me, to Babu-ji and Amma, to you. Bua-ji loves him. He has a nice smile. His family is wonderful."
Khushi thought of his permanent scowl, of his Mami's sourness and cutting remarks, of his almost-arrogant words about his company.
Of course he's grumpy, Khushi, he can't have sugar. He doesn't have an ounce of sweetness inside him.
Then she thought of his Nani's kindness, his sister's smiles, of the way he'd helped her in the kitchen, the glance he'd stolen before leaving.
Her pulse quickened, the dhak-dhak sound of it almost overpowering her, and Khushi struggled to breathe as she watched Jiji disappear into the bathroom. Jiji hadn't mentioned the racing pulse, the stolen glances, or the way her breath had caught when there had been only inches between them.
"Why are you smiling like that?" she frowned at the statue of Devi Maiyya that sat on the small desk, "This is all your fault, this dhak-dhak and restlessness. Is ... Is there something wrong with me? Is he ... dangerous?"
No, she consoled herself, he's only dangerous in the way that Salman-ji was dangerous to Madhuri-ji in Hum Aapke Hain Koun.
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Craning her neck to check that Jiji was locked in the bathroom, Khushi allowed herself to think of the name that had echoed in her ears all night.
Arnav.
"Arnav-ji," she corrected herself in a whisper.
Khushi blushed into the pillow, but threw it aside as the phone rang. She ran to answer it, skidding around Bua-ji as she bustled from the kitchen.
"Watch out, Sanka Devi! One day you're going to break an arm or a leg, Nand Kishore, rushing about like that."
"Sorry, Bua-ji!" Khushi grabbed the handset and answered it, "Hello?"
"Khushi-bitiya? It's Arnav's Nani here. How are you, child?"
"I'm w-well, Nani-ji. How are you?"
"I'm very well, with Devi Maiyya's blessing. I needed to speak with your father, is he there or should I call the shop?"
"He's ... he's here. I'll get him now. Please ... please hold on."
"Yes, take your time child."
Her heart pounding, Khushi ran through the house and outside, where her father still sat on the divan, a newspaper spread on his lap.
"Babu-ji ..." she panted, "Nani-ji ... on the phone ... hurry."
He nodded as he placed his tea on the small table. Khushi followed him inside, hopping anxiously. She hovered in the kitchen as her father spoke to his Nani, but Babu-ji's short answers gave no clues to her fate.
"Please, please, please, Devi Maiyya," she whispered, unsure which outcome she was praying for.
Her eyes were closed and her crossed fingers in her mouth when Babu-ji tapped her shoulder. Khushi held her breath.
"He wants to meet you again. They've invited us to a function at their home in two weeks."
