Around afternoon, on Sunday, I wake up to the headlines about the Rathi's selling Zēlos' shares.
My sleepy haze wears out as soon as I read the title of the article.
A quote by Dharmendra Rathi himself, Kalyan's uncle, is included in the writing. "Due to personal circumstances, we are moving out of business with Zēlos. This is what we deem is best for the future of both the businesses involved."
As much as I wanted to know what Karthik and Nanna did, I was much too tired to deal with it.
Let it go, I told myself. It's over.
With that thought, I went down the stairs to get my mother started on her taunts about my sleep pattern.
~.~.~.~.~
"There are some formalities to be sorted out at the port," Prashant, the CFO says.
"What formalities?" I ask, looking up from the documents.
"Formalities," the marketing manager, Vishal stresses.
"Right," I realise. Formalities including greasing the palms of a couple of people, sending them some gifts and getting our work done.
"Why's that taking so long?" Karthik asks.
"Chief's put us on hold, Karthik," the General Manager, Harinder supplies.
Karthik simply nods his head. Chief, who, you ask? Father. Our father's the chief. At times, even I feel like we're running a mob.
My phone buzzes on the table, causing it to vibrate, and everyone looks at me.
"Sorry," I apologise, recognising my mother's caller ID and then silencing it. I'll call her back after the meeting.
Karthik raises his eyebrows at me, asking about it, and I shrug back at him, mouthing 'mom'.
No sooner than that interaction happens, my phone starts to vibrate once again. I sigh and excuse myself.
"Hel—"
My mother doesn't even wait for me to greet her. "Why aren't you picking up your phone? What do you have a phone for, if you won't pick it up? Put it on fire!"
I wince, pulling it away from my ear. My mother yells loud enough for the employees passing by to hear.
"Don't you have a mother?" I snap at a colleague who turns to look my way.
Despite my rude tone, she gives me an apologetic look as she walks past me, as though sympathising with me for a mother like mine.
"Are you even listening to me?" Amma yells louder, making me cringe at her tone.
"Mom," I try to cajole her. "I'll call you back, I'm in a meeting."
"Oh, you should've said so, then," she says, in a tone so calm it makes me think I was delusional to have thought she was yelling at me less than a minute ago.
I hoped not picking up would give away some sort of a hint that I was busy, but apparently not. "Yes, I should have. "I'm sorry. Can I call you back?"
"Yes, yes. Call me back," she agrees.
"Okay. Bye, ma."
"Bye, bye," my mother says absent-mindedly.
Heaving a breath of relief, I completely silence my phone, taking it off vibration too as I go back inside the meeting room.
"Sir, you're all married, and happy," I hear Vishal say, as I enter the room. "I'm thirty-five, unmarried and a marketing manager," he complains.
"What's wrong with that?" I ask him, casually, joining in on the conversation.
"Well, for one, I think my family's opening up to the LGBTQ+ community at this point," he says. "They keep asking if I'm gay.
"And what do you know the struggles of singles, Arvi? You're engaged to be married and I don't suppose you've ever been single."
I let out a sarcastic chuckle at the assumption, but Vishal is too lost in misery to care. "I've been waiting to get married since I finished Engineering college. When I asked my mother about finding me a bride, after my graduation, she beat me up with a broom and asked me to finish my MBA first."
I cover my mouth, unlike the others, trying not to laugh out loud. "Two years later, I'd finished an MBA, and landed a job at Zēlos. This was ten years ago. Now I'm thirty-five and still single; so single, my mother doesn't care for caste anymore. And when we go to see girls and their family hears that I'm a marketing manager at Zēlos, they ask if I do the inventory here.
"Who came up with the idea that marketing means salespersons?" he sighs. "They think calling someone a marketing executive is a fancy substitute for the word salesperson."
~.~.~.~.~
I cut my workday short to go shopping for the wedding.
"Where's my mother?" I ask Lakshmi Aunty, gulping down a glass of water to calm myself.
"What are you angry about?" I hear my mother's incredulous voice, as she walks to the living room. "I should be angry with you, I told you we were to go shopping today."
"Ma, you called me twenty-five times in two hours," I point out. I can't believe this. Who would be angry if not me? "When are we going shopping, anyway?"
"I called twenty times only," my mother insists. "And if I've called that many times did you not think it would've been important?"
"You called more than twenty times," I argue. "And the house and everyone in it is perfectly intact, why did you call me that many times?"
"We were supposed to go shopping for your wedding, Arvi. Have some interest in your wedding, at least," she taunts.
I narrow my eyes at her, placing my hands on my hips. "When did you tell me about the shopping trip? An hour ago?"
"Did I not tell you last night?" my mother fights back.
"No, you didn't tell me last night," I ridicule her. "I can't listen to the thoughts in your head, Amma, you need to tell me."
"I absolutely told you."
"Madhu," Thathayya reproves. "Why are you both fighting in the middle of the day?"
"Your daughter called me twenty-five times while I was in a meeting," I tell him before my mother can respond. "After I told her I was in a meeting."
"You should've called me after your meeting was over! Why didn't you?"
"Because I was still in the meeting," I tell her, defensively. "If I told you I'd call after the meeting was over, I would've called after the meeting was over."
"You couldn't take one minute away from your meeting?"
"But I told you I was in a meeting, and that I would call you. Why did you have to call me twenty-five times? Do you know how scary that is— to see twenty-five missed calls from my mother?"
"I wouldn't have had to call you so many times if I could reach you!"
I sigh. She simply does not understand. Receiving twenty-five missed calls from my mother after telling her I was in a meeting, while there is an ailing man at home does not give one much space to think about trivial things such as wedding shopping.
I ran a traffic light to be here. I've had two near-death experiences.
"You know what?" I ask my mother, emerging out of my reverie. "I'm going to work from home now. Will that do it? I'll always be within reach. You wouldn't have to call me a hundred times within an hour."
"I'm not asking you to stay home, Arvi, just to pick up calls. Is it too much to ask for?"
I shake my head, not wanting to have this argument anymore. "I said what I said. I'm working from home now on."
~.~.~.~.~
Two days later, on Wednesday, my day starts with a fight against my grandfather for the TV remote.
"You should be taking a rest!" I try to convince the old man, reaching for the TV remote that he holds in his hand that is stretched out, away from me.
"You should be working," he retorts. "I'm watching cricket!"
"Thathayya," I whine. "You've already watched this match! It was telecasted on Sunday!"
"I want to watch it again," he argues. "Don't tell me what to do! Go watch the TV in your room if you don't want to work!"
"Why do you want to watch re-runs of the same match?" I whine, crossing my arms over my stomach as I sink into the fluffy couch, pouting like a petulant child.
The old man glances my way and turns away, not nearly convinced by my sad face. Well, the man is very stubborn when it comes to the TV, and he has had way too much experience; raising three daughters.
He relaxes slightly, now that I'm done fighting for the remote. However, he still holds the remote in his vice-like grip. I know without trying to grab the remote away from him that he's holding it in his iron fist, given all the previous fights we've had, growing up with him.
"I thought you had to go out with your husband?" he asks.
I spare him a glance from the corner of my eye, still pouting. "Watch your TV. Why do you care where I'm going and who I'm going with?"
"Remind me to warn Arjun to watch out for your childish tantrums," the old man says, teasing me.
I stick my tongue out at him, proving my immaturity. "If I'm so childish, you shouldn't be marrying me off. Arjun wants a wife, not a kid."
"Poor boy, that one," Thathayya tuts. "Has to put up with the Janaki Devi for the rest of his life."
I roll my eyes at the TV. Couldn't roll my eyes at the old man, could I?
"Yes, yes," I agree mockingly. "He's one pitiful creature, and you must be pitied the most of them all, no?"
"Janaki!" Thathayya reproves dramatically. "You shouldn't talk of your grandmother as such, and that, just for a TV remote?"
I blink, surprised at the change of tone. When I turn to see my grandmother, my suspicion is confirmed.
"Ammamma, I didn't say anything about you," I try to tell her. "I was only talking about myself." I shoot a glare at my smug grandfather. "I said he should be pitied the most of them all because he's known me longest!"
"Give her the remote and go to sleep," Ammamma tells Thathayya, causing the old man to frown.
"How much should I sleep?" he argues. "I might sleep forever if I sleep for any longer!"
"Narayana!" Ammamma rebuffs sharply. "Do not talk of such matters lightly!" Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Stupid old man," she mutters, hobbling away angrily.
A weight settles on my chest. I shouldn't have fought for the TV remote at all. "Sorry, Thathayya," I apologise, looking between an angry Ammamma and a stupidly smiling Thathayya.
Thathayya chuckles. "How ironic that she should call me by my name when I mention such a thing when she refuses to address me as such because it is supposed to be detrimental to my well-being," he remarks, shaking his head. "You don't worry about it, I have a longer life to live."
His words bring a smile onto my face, too. I pass a silent prayer, wishing for my grandfather to live for as long as he wishes to.
~.~.~.~.~
I drive my Volvo to Arjun's office, with Vivek following me on his bike. I told him he wouldn't have to worry about it, that he can sit in the passenger seat or the back even if I were driving, but Vivek vehemently refused, preferring to follow me on his bike.
Fortunately, it wasn't too sunny, nor did it look like it would rain any second, so I didn't force Vivek to ride with me, either.
I stop the car in front of the entrance to Kona Infra and call Arjun, asking him to come down.
"Come upstairs," Arjun insists. "I still have some work to finish off before we leave, and there is time for the appointment."
I look down at my clothes. I had chosen to embrace my ethnicity and wore a salwar kameez today. Not really, I decided to humour my mother and grandparents and switched from "beggar" clothes to outfits of propriety.
"At least wear Indian clothes for a few months before and after your wedding," Ammamma had requested. "If not Indian clothes, at least don't wear those faded t-shirts and pants!"
"You look very good in Indian clothes, Janaki," Thathayya agreed.
"Please do knock some sense into her. She doesn't listen to me anyway, maybe she'll listen to you at least," my mother taunted.
As much as I enjoyed their daily banter, I chose to put an end to it, especially because they start as soon as I wake up and continue to badger me until the end of the day.
"I don't think I'm wearing clothes fit for your place of work," I try to make Arjun understand.
A silent second later, Arjun asks, "What are you wearing?"
I sigh. "Salwar kameez," I answer.
"Oh," Arjun says. I can't put a finger on his tone. Is he relieved? Or is he disappointed?
Should I be going to his workplace like this, anyway? Looking like I'm dressed for a puja or something?
"What's wrong with a salwar kameez?" Arjun asks.
"I thought your office had a formal dress code policy? I'll stick out like a sore thumb!"
"Arvi, you're not an employee here. Why are you worried about the dress code?"
"I'm not worried about the dress code," I tell Arjun. Sore thumbs receive a lot of attention. Does he not realise that? "What about my car? Where should I park it?"
"Give your keys to the valet, Arvi," Arjun orders in a no-nonsense tone. "He won't steal your car."
I sigh, defeated. "Fine. I'm coming."
"I'll see you," he says. "Take the lift to the fifteenth floor." I look up at the building. Looks taller than fifteen floors.
"Okay," I agree, sullenly.
I get out of the car, and Vivek jogs up to me. "Ma'am?" he prods, waiting for directions.
I hand him the keys to my car. "Park the car, Vivek. I'm going up to meet Arjun."
"Yes, ma'am," he agrees in a strong tone that startles me.
I look at him with a hand on my chest. "We're not in the police, Vivek."
He passes me an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, ma'am."
"It's okay," I wave it off, and check the time on my watch. "If we're not downstairs in twenty minutes, call Ankush's PA and let them know we'll be a few minutes late."
"Yes, ma'am," he agrees in a gentler tone.
I nod in acknowledgement and walk into the lobby of the building. "Ma'am?" I hear someone call out. I assume it's not me and keep walking towards the lift, but a tap on my shoulder makes me look back at a female.
"I was calling for you, but you kept walking away," she says with a polite smile.
I smile back at her, apologetically. "I didn't think you were calling me, sorry."
"Oh, of course," she says. "You are here to meet Mr Arjun Kona, correct?"
I nod, soundlessly.
"This way, please," she says, leading me to a lift in the different part of the lobby. "This is the private elevator," she tells me, while we wait for the lift to come down. "Arjun sir is on the fifteenth floor."
I smile at her, thanking her.
However, she waits for the lift to descend from the eighteenth floor.
"You are Arvi Ravichander, right?" she asks. "Zēlos...?" she adds hesitantly.
"That's me," I confirm.
"Lucky you," she murmurs.
Wow, the jealousy in that tone. I wanted to tell her I'd be happy to switch places, but I'd never even finished the thought in my head. Well, it wasn't true. I wouldn't trade places with her. Not just because working as a receptionist isn't my dream job, but also because I can't let her have my life.
Or Arjun, my conscience adds.
Well, that too, I agree. What's the point in denying it, anyway?
As soon as I get out of the lift on the fifteenth floor, I'm met with a grinning face of a stranger.
"Namaste," the man says cheerily, folding his hands.
Um.
Is it the clothes?
"Namaste," I greet back, folding my hands.
"I am Sai, Arjun sir's PA," he introduces himself.
"Oh," I say awkwardly. "Hello."
"I know who you are, of course," he says. "Please, follow me." He extends his hand to the right, motioning for me to go that way.
"I would shake hands, but I'm the breadwinner in my family," Sai says.
I can't figure out what he's saying at first, but he helps me out quickly enough. "Arjun sir might fire me if he knows I touched you, even if only a handshake. Well, he can't fire me without good reason, but I don't suppose he'd need another reason to bury me."
With Sai, it seems no one has to talk. He leads me through the floor, explaining the functions of the different groups. "These are the architecture interns," he tells me. "And those, the planning ones."
"Does Arjun sir scare you?" he asks and doesn't wait for me to respond or ask what he means before he continues. "Everyone here is scared of him. He once smashed his phone into the ground, breaking it into a million pieces. He wasn't angry without reason, but he's very scary when he's angry. Does he get angry at you?"
He still doesn't give me the space to answer.
"They say people can only be angry at the people they love or care about, so it's a good sign if he's angry at you."
Sai stops outside a wooden door. "This is where sir is, they're working on the plan for a mall," he tells me. "Please don't tell him I told you about the time he broke his phone. I'm the sole breadwinner in my family."
This time, he looks at me expectantly. I realise I'm supposed to give him an answer.
"I won't," I assure him.
"I hope I wasn't too talkative. I'm usually not like this, but Arjun sir told me not to ask you any questions because you don't talk much, so I tried not to. I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable," he lets out in a single breath.
For some reason, I find it hard to believe that Sai doesn't always talk this much. Regardless, I smile at him. "Thanks for the tour, Sai. You haven't made me uncomfortable at all."
Sai gives me a full-fledged smile and pushes the door open. Everyone at the table looks up at the sound of the door opening.
Arjun's lips spread into a grin, and murmurs spread among his fellow associates. "Back to work, guys," Arjun orders, making them hush at once.
"Ma'am, please," Sai says, gesturing for me to sit as he pulls out a chair. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No, tha—"
"Get her a coke, Sai," Arjun instructs his PA. I hear a couple of chuckles and giggles, but don't mind them.
"Sure, boss." Sai picks up a telephone stuck to the wall of the room and requests a coke.
"Come here," Arjun beckons, once again causing his colleagues to look at me. I see a couple of straight faces, a couple of curious ones, one of admiration, a few of spite, too.
He's so lucky we're in the company of his co-workers.
As I walk over, I can only feel the scrutinising eyes on me, like they're waiting for me to trip and fall. I'd never thought of Arjun's fan-following up until now.
He has quite the fanbase, though. I wonder what they call themselves. Arjun heads? Arjunies? Arjunites?
Arjun drapes his arm over my shoulder as soon as I stand next to him. "This is Shwetha Garu," he introduces me to a woman who smiles politely. I extend my hand for a handshake, and she takes it. "Arvi," I introduce myself with a smile.
"She is an independent architect that is working with us on the Bangalore mall project," he tells me.
"You were also the architect on one of the Eden Hotels and Resorts, right?" I ask her, sensing a familiarity. "You were featured in the Architect's Digest for your work on the resort in the Maldives."
Shwetha Garu smiles widely. "Yes, that was me," she admits, proudly. "You are...?"
"Um, the Chairman is my uncle," I clarify.
"Oh, right, of course," she realises. "You are Naveen Ravichander's daughter."
I smile. "Yes."
"That is her team of architects," Arjun introduces next. "Tapan, Srishti, Akanksha, Brijesh, Lakshman, and Leah."
I shake hands with each of them.
"I didn't know handshakes were allowed," I hear Sai complain.
I chuckle. "I can shake hands with you if you want," I offer to him, making the group laugh.
Sai blushes a shade of pink. "It's okay, ma'am."
Less than twenty minutes later, I head out with Arjun. "I should've wrapped up earlier," Arjun tells me, leading me to the private lift.
"It's okay," I respond, knowing that's Arjun's version of an apology.
Arjun presses the button to the ground floor.
"Don't be rude to Ankush, Arjun."
"I'm never—"
"Blocking people who've done nothing to you is rude, Arjun."
"He calls way too many times, and I'm fine with however the bedroom is as long as it's got a bed for me to sleep on."
"Don't be rude to Ankush, Arjun," I repeat in a stern tone this time.
"Fine," he barks.
"Don't say anything unless there's something you don't like, and if you have nothing good to say to him, don't say anything at all."
"We're only doing the curtains today, right?" Arjun asks, slightly narrowing his eyes at me.
I pass him a sheepish smile. "If we only did the curtains today, I'd have so many more meetings with him, alone. I can't beg you to go with me every time."
"You said just the curtains, Arvi."
"But Arjun—"
"You lied to me? To your fiancé?" he stresses.
I turn to look at him with a blank face. "Enti, sir?" I mock. "Em antunnaaru? Elagelaga? Mee notlonunchi vachevi anni enti, sir?" [(Telugu) Excuse me, sir. What is it that you're saying? What are all those things that come out of your mouth?]
Arjun braves a sheepish smile. "Let's go, now," he says, pulling me outside.
"We're going in my car," I announce.
"Are you going to drive?" Arjun asks.
"I'm not going to let you drive," I retort.
"What's with the sass today, baby?" Arjun asks as we wait for Vivek to come around with the car.
"It's an everyday thing, baby." The word slips out of my mouth, but the way Arjun's ears turn pink at being addressed like that is a heartwarming sight.
"What a cutie," I coo, pinching his cheeks, much to his chagrin.
~.~.~.~.~
"These are the samples," Ankush says after his staff display the bundles of samples. "We can sort by colours, textures, and other preferences you might have to find the curtains you want."
"Why are there so many of these?" Arjun murmurs.
I shoot him a glare to shut him up.
"If you don't find any of these to your liking," Ankush says in his fake-British accent. "You can come over to the studio and look at the other samples."
"We understand Hindi, Ankush. Let's stick to Hindi, please," Arjun requests. The underlining of a taunt is prominent but Ankush says nothing of it.
I nudge Arjun's foot with mine. There's no need to be rude to the man when we sought out him for the room and had him change his schedule to fit us in.
"Which colour do you want?" I ask Arjun, looking at the expansive sea of samples laid out for us.
"Anything will do," he says lightly.
"Anything isn't a colour."
"Which colour do you want, Arvi?"
I pout. "I don't know," I whine. I would have enough trouble choosing between two options and Ankush here has me choosing between more than a hundred different options. How would I be able to choose from these?
"Okay," Arjun muses. "What colour is the room being painted in?"
"White," I supply. That was the easiest choice of all.
"Is there a theme?"
"Not really."
"Ankush, what do you think?" Arjun asks the interior decorator.
"Whites and greys are the trends now," Ankush says.
"Greys are drab," I reject the idea.
"White goes well with most colours," he suggests.
"Arjun?" I prod, urging him to choose a colour.
"Orange?" Arjun suggests.
"Too bright."
"Pink?"
"Ew."
"Purple?"
"No way."
"Violet?"
"No."
"Red?"
"Bright."
"Orange and red are bright, greys are drab. What do you want?"
"A softer shade?" I ask innocently.
"Light pink?"
"No pinks!"
"Light blue?"
I start to think about the colour, but Ankush turns down the idea. "Light colours won't go with the flooring."
"Which colours will go with the flooring and the walls?" Arjun asks, apparently frustrated.
"How about a teal?" Ankush suggests.
I shake my head. "No."
Then, silence descends upon the table. I look between Arjun and Ankush, one of whom already looks tired, and the other who looks like he's putting his brain to use. No points for guessing who's who.
One of Ankush's staff makes his way over to the table and pulls out a catalogue of samples, of shades ranging from blue to green.
Ankush looks up at her. "Good job," he commends.
The girl blushes and moves back with a meek, "thank you."
Arjun points to a mix of blue and green, more parts blue than green at the same time that I point to a darker shade of the same palette.
"Whatever you want," he says, pulling his hand back immediately.
"But that one's good, too."
"You chose a colour, and we're sticking to that," Arjun says with a tone of finality.
"But you chose a colour, too."
"Arvi, I pointed to a lot of colours before, too," Arjun ends the discussion with me and turns to Ankush. "Will the colour go with the floor and the paint?"
Ankush nods. "It'll fit."
"What next?" Arjun asks.
"Well, the furniture in the room..." Ankush starts in an Australian accent.
When presented with the furniture catalogues, the curtains seemed to be easier. Not because there were more options in the furniture than the curtain colours, but because the furniture was of nearly the same colours, since it came of the same wood, and there were few changes in the design of the furniture it was harder to choose the right one because I didn't know which one looked best.
We ended the meeting without picking furniture, but Ankush was happy with the progress since I'd gone without finalising anything in the last meeting.
"Do you want to have lunch before you go back home?" Arjun offers.
A grin spreads onto my face at the suggestion. "Sure."
I drive us back to Kona Infra since Arjun has to go back to work after lunch. We order in the car so that we can eat the food in the penthouse.
~.~.~.~.~
"Get the plates," Arjun tells me. "I'll shift the biryani into a glass bowl and heat it."
I bring out the plates from the bottom drawer while Arjun opens the packaging of the biryani.
"Do you like biryani?" I ask Arjun as he pushes the bowl of biryani into the microwave.
"I like biryani," he answers, turning to look at me. "But I can't have too much of it or have it too often."
"You're a fitness freak, aren't you?"
Arjun shrugs. "I wouldn't call myself a fitness freak, but biryani isn't too healthy. I like having a healthy lifestyle."
"What's a healthy lifestyle if you can't eat the food you like?"
"I can live with it for a longer life."
"What good is a long life if you still can't eat the food you like?"
"For someone that likes to talk of food as fondly as you, you're too picky an eater, do you know that?" he poses.
"I've heard," I confirm for him. "But see, that's beside the point. I don't stay away from the food I like because I want a longer life."
"Enough of that," Arjun says, pulling me closer to him by my wrist. "What am I getting for going to that meeting with you?"
Arjun plants his hand on the small of my bak, firmly, not giving me any room to move.
"Arjun," I say sweetly, standing on my tippy-toes to link my hands around his neck. "What do you want?" I relent despite having fought him on the topic a hundred times before. He hadn't come with me just for my sake. It was for his room, too; it was for our room.
Arjun doesn't answer my question before he presses his lips against mine. He kisses my lips softly, once, and pulls back, making me open my eyes in confusion.
"Kiss me," he whispers.
I let my eyes close as I lean in to touch his lips with mine. I brush my shivering lips against his and pull away. The temptation overtakes the lack of courage, forcing me to kiss him, properly.
It's not long before Arjun takes over the kiss. He pushes me against the counter, causing the granite to dig into my back. I fist his shirt in my hands, trying to stop myself from moaning out loud as his hands draw circles onto my clothed waist but I can't hold it back when he nips at my lower lip, making my blood course with pleasure.
The best part however is when he runs his tongue over my lower lip, soothing the sensuous pain.
Arjun walks me backwards, not once detaching his lips from mine. We stumble into one of the bedrooms in the house.
My brain is too muddled to process anything until he puts me down on the bed.
I briefly flitter into a state where I can grasp my senses as he gets rid of his blazer, but the pleasure is overpowering.
I can tell him to stop, I tell myself. Just not yet.
Arjun climbs on top of me, once again capturing my lips. He trails down my jaw, to my throat.
I fist the bedsheets in my hands as he kisses my throat sloppily. Arjun's teeth graze against my skin, making me moan, "Arjun."
Arjun inhales deeply in the crook of my neck, and I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to me.
Arjun raises his head and bites my jaw. "Arvi," he breathes. "We should stop now if you don't want to go further."
I whimper in protest. I know I can't go further, even if it physically pains me to pull away from him.
"Hold me," I breathe.
If I can't have him fully, I can at least have him around me.
Arjun falls onto my side and bundles me up in his arms. "You know you're killing me, right?" he whispers against my hair. "Because you should know."
I turn in his arms, to look at him. I caress his bearded cheek, feeling it tease my palm.
There's no going back now. This is it, I'm in too deep. As I lie in his arms, the thought comforts me, but there is an inevitable tinge of dread creeping its way to my insecurities, pouring life into them.
Loving someone isn't as easy as it should be. Loving someone is to put yourself in a place of vulnerability, and I have only so much emotion I can spare before I ruin myself for love. It is not love itself that is hard to come by, it's the person that you can trust with your vulnerability that is hard to come by.
A/N
Hi, there!
I'm not quite sure where Arvi is, right now, emotionally, but tell me if you have a clue. You can blame me for constructing this much of a complex character.
That was one long chapter! Approximately 5100 words! Do tell me what you thought about the chapter! Don't forget to vote and comment!
Guys, big, big, big news! We're at 26.2K views at present! You guys are the entire reason we're here right now!
A big, big thank you to all of my readers, new and old! Thank you for all of your wonderful comments, feedback and votes! Be assured, I'm reading every one of your comments, even if I can't respond to them due to my tight schedule. You're all always putting a smile on my face!
Also, guys. What have I done with this story? Forty chapters down and they still aren't married! Marriage is definitely on the cards, so don't worry. It will happen. I would prefer that it happen in the next two chapters, but Arvi's mind doesn't bend to my flexibility, and I need her to be at a certain place when she's being married. What am I to do with this girl?
Off I go now,
Until next time,
With love,
A.