Chapter Eleven

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"Khushi!"

The call startled her and she swirled around, holding the plate of red and yellow colour she'd found on the poolside table. But fast movements weren't Khushi's forte, and next thing she knew she'd tripped over one of the nearby chairs and sent the plate flying.

Arnav caught her wrist just in time, preventing Khushi from splashing into the pool. The silver plate clattered to the ground as its powdered contents swirled around them in a dusty cloud.

Caught in his iron grip, Khushi looked up at Arnav and gulped. He stared into her eyes, looking... angry? Devi Maiyaa, now what have I done?

"Khushi, will you ever learn to watch where you go?"

No. There was no real anger in Arnav-ji's voice.

"It's your fault! You startled me!" Khushi was defiant, but that was mostly covering up her embarrassment for the clumsiness.

The two were now facing each other, streaks of yellow-red powder settling on their faces, hands, and clothes. Khushi pulled her wrist away.

"Nothing is ever your fault, laad governer," she irritably muttered to herself, unsuccessfully trying to dust off her white kameez.

"Khushi... forget that, I need to talk to you! Now," Arnav said softly, but the demand he issued somehow slipped out in his usual commanding tone, which predictably only served to irritate Khushi further.

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him, petulantly. "Yeah, what?"

Arnav drew a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"Khushi... it's Holi," he started, and then stopped, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. He tried to remember what his sister had said just a short while ago.


"Chhote, the guests are here. I know, I know, usually it goes something like 'Di I don't play Holi', then I say 'but please, Chhote', then you say 'no Di and that's final' and then I eventually give up," Anjali pouted, recounting the annual sibling Holi argument.

Arnav sighed and closed his laptop. It was true he always avoided the celebrations. It was too painful. Holi had always been his favourite festival before... when his Mother was still around.

"But you came upstairs anyway?"

"Chhote, I have to talk to you, seriously," Anjali eagerly said, spotting an opening. "I know you've been acting strange lately, you've been so stressed and preoccupied, and have barely spoken to me since the wedding, and apart from your big Italian deal at work, I think I know why."

This startled Arnav. "You know...?"

"Of course! You're in love!"

This was not what Arnav had expected to hear, but it startled him even more. He started drawing a breath to object - and for the first time, found himself unable to do so.

Encouraged by his silence, Anjali pressed on.

"Last time I thought you were in love, I got it wrong, because I thought it was Lavanya-ji. But during Akash and Payal's wedding, I figured it out, Chhote! You're in love with Khushi-ji! And I'm so, so happy about it!"

"But... Di... I--" Arnav was distinctly uncomfortable now. Talking about his feelings was never easy, but talking about his feelings with Di, with everything he knew about her marriage, it was impossible.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

"No, Di," Arnav sighed. It was pointless to object. And a part of him didn't even want to deny it. Not any more.

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