Titaliya

Chapter 23

Shyam flinched as the goon split his lip with a single punch. Arnav dying was the solution to all his problems. ASR would be in his hands, as if his pitiful wife was unable to see anything beyond her pooja thali.

"I'll pay you," he coaxed them.

"When, Mr. Jha?" the goon asked. "This isn't a court case, for you to drag it out. We fulfilled our end of the deal. It's your turn now. And hurry, even if you don't give us the money, we know how to collect it."

Shyam limped out of the old building into the streets of Bangalore. Everyone else stared at him. His shirt was wrinkled and covered in dust, his collar torn, and the blood from his lip was dripping down his chin.

All the plans he'd conducted on his own had failed. He hired professionals in the hopes they would succeed, but it seemed Raizadas were impossible to kill for everyone. They failed, but they still insisted on payment. It was another lakh rupees he didn't have.

What was worse, he'd driven Arnav into Khushi's arms. They were living in the same house thanks to Shyam, in a twist of irony. His phone rang, and he sighed on seeing the name across the screen.

"Yes, Rani Saheba?" he asked, nearly choking on the feigned sweetness of his own voice. He didn't need to spy on Arnav, not when his Rani Saheba answered all the questions he had.

"Shyamji! Chote has arranged a private jet so I can go to Bangalore to visit him. Where are you?"

"Uh, I'm in Lucknow, Rani Saheba. An important case," he said. "I don't think I'll be able to come."

His wife cut the call. He was tired of her tiny tantrums, her insistence on romantic gestures. She was nauseatingly deluded, and the second she died would be the second he could live freely. He almost regretted marrying her in the first place. But the money had been too much to ignore. For years he spent acting like a spineless husband, humoring her insane aunt and uncle, bowing down to her overly pious grandmother, pretending that her broken leg didn't matter, and he was tired.

The street he was in was one known for crime. Shifty-eyed men walked past him and measured him up, each determining that attempting to steal from him would be a waste of time. It was almost insulting.

A girl walked past, one of the streetwalkers in bright pink and yellow, like the salwars kameezes Khushi used to wear. If only she'd loved him back, everything would've been perfect. Instead, she loved Arnav Singh Raizada.

Except she didn't love him anymore, he reminded himself. All her memories of Arnav were gone, and if he was lucky, her memories of him were gone as well. He could start over, make the new Khushi fall in love with him and leave the cursed Raizadas behind once and for all. Once he thought about it, he didn't even need their money anymore. Khushi now had more than enough of her own.

He straightened his shirt and called one of the few debtors that still trusted him. He needed enough for an apartment near Khushi's university. He would make her fall in love with him this time.