ARSHI Chronicles!

It's Time you Respect Me (III)

"I'm really sorry," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper filled with sincerity. "Can we first talk before having lunch? I've got something on my chest that I really need to get out." His eyes were earnest, almost begging for her to agree.

She met his gaze for a brief second before giving a quiet nod. "Change first. I'll be outside," she let out a small sigh, closing the door behind her as she stepped out.

~~~~~~

He hurried out of the closet, eager to find his only comfort. Khushi was there, seated by the pool, her feet lightly submerged in the refreshing water, her gaze fixed on some distant point. A smile touched his lips seeing her so absorbed in her thoughts.

Indeed, Khushi was an enigma. At times, he felt he could read her like an open book, yet at others, she was a fortress of reserve and poise, her thoughts and feelings guarded and elusive.

Silently, he approached and took a seat next to her, cautiously dipping his legs into the cool embrace of the pool. "You might catch a cold," he teased gently, eliciting a soft laugh from her.

"You never considered my well-being back when you'd have me sleep out here by the poolside," she said, a shadow of sadness lingering in her gaze.

A wave of guilt washed over him as he met her gaze, his own eyes filling with sincere regret. "I didn't," he admitted softly.

"Why did you agree to marry me, Khushi?" he murmured, his earnest eyes drifting to her engagement ring, the stunning diamond perfectly adorning her finger. "I've been nothing but cruel to you," he choked out, feeling the intensity of her gaze upon him.

"Because I love you," she responded with heartfelt sincerity, her beautiful face momentarily furrowed in concern as she processed his words.

"Yet, sometimes love just isn't enough," he countered, his gaze lost in the distance, reflecting a deep, unresolved turmoil.

"Yes, sometimes love isn't enough," she conceded, her gaze joining his in the distance, enveloped in a heavy silence.

"I grew up in privilege," he began, a reflective tone in his voice. "As Arvid Malik's only son, I lived in a world apart—a life filled with luxuries. Anything I desired was mine, without question." His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, met her puzzled look.

"I was indulged beyond measure, Khushi. Dadi, Di, and to a lesser extent, Mumma, they all spoiled me. But Mumma... she tried to instill discipline. She emphasized the importance of following rules, respecting my elders, and dedicating myself to my studies. Without her influence, I fear I would have turned out just like my father," he concluded.

"And your father?" she inquired, curiosity mingling with confusion in her eyes.

"My father was absent," he said with a bitter chuckle. "You were right, Khushi. Some things money can't buy. No matter how much I yearned for his attention, it was never given. He was always working, always distant, and we were oblivious to the separate life he led."

"I used to rationalize his absence," he continued softly. "It was first Mumma, then Di, and finally my own attempts to convince myself that his neglect wasn't intentional. He was a busy man, burdened with responsibilities—for our future, for our continued prosperity."

"But when we discovered his affair, I was forced to face the truth. He never loved me, Mumma, or Di. He cared for nothing but his wealth and power." Turning away, he struggled for breath, the confession suffocating him.