Alok was wide-awake when Khushi entered his room, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. Without his usual spectacles, well-combed hair, and three-piece suit, he appeared quite frail to Khushi. In all these years, she hadn't quite registered how old her father was getting.
She cleared her throat, keeping her distance. "Umm... Papa?"
Alok's eyes shifted. "I... I can't see you," he croaked.
Khushi hesitantly came closer and sat down next to his bed, wondering how much of their conversation from earlier that evening he still remembered.
It was Alok who spoke first, and surprisingly, it was not what Khushi was expecting:
"When you were twelve years old, there was a play in your school...Joan of Arc, if I remember correctly. It was your first time on stage, you never really had much patience for creative things... but somehow, that one year, the teachers could convince you to take part. You were one of the Generals."
Khushi had no clue what he was saying. "Why–"
Alok continued, ignoring her interruption. "And even amongst all your classmates on stage that night, I knew exactly where you were because of your costume... you had nagged your mother for weeks, wanting the perfect look to suit your role. Garima had probably gone to every single costume shop in the city, but nothing satisfied you. In the end, she gave up, got the cloth, and stitched it herself."
Khushi bit her lip, vaguely recalling the incident in question. It was one of the better memories of her childhood.
"That was one of the first times I saw the extent of your stubbornness."
"You saw...?"
"I came to the play, Khushi. I came late, yes... caught up with business as usual, but I came, nonetheless. I sat at the back and watched every second you were on stage."
Khushi didn't know what to say.
"I never came to your school and asked about you because you never gave me a chance to. You never made mistakes like Vihaan... you didn't need to be monitored, pushed, or taken care of..."
So her father had indeed listened to every word she had uttered that evening and had his rebuttal ready. How typical.
Alok continued. "Vihaan is my son, yes... but I never put him in front of you because you were a girl... as the eldest, he had bigger responsibilities, bigger goals cut out for him since even before he was born.... The truth is, I didn't have time for two children... and between the two, I thought Vihaan had a greater need than yours."
Wait... did she hear right? Was Alok Raj Gupta really giving her, of all people, an explanation for his actions?
Alok took a deep breath, flinching in pain.
"Where does it hurt?" Khushi asked, almost as a reflex.
He waved off her concern. "I clearly am from a different time than yours Khushi... when my father was strict with me, I always reminded myself that I will give my children the freedom to be children... but today, when you and Vihaan accuse me of being the same, I realize that nothing has changed.... Perhaps in my efforts to secure a safe future for you, I stopped being your father altogether."
Khushi felt odd to hear that. There were many things she didn't agree with her father, but to see him talk to her as though she was an equal, as though he valued her opinion... It meant something, she wasn't sure what exactly it was yet.
"I'm not saying this for your sympathy... I know that in your eyes, I'm not worthy of your forgiveness. But today... when you asked me why I hate you... I just..."
Alok trailed off, not being able to find the words. And to Khushi's great astonishment, she saw a tear leak from the corner of his eye. And then another one.
Her father was crying.
"No," she mumbled, very awkward now. She had expected everything but this. "Please don't... you shouldn't be putting any more pressure on your heart."
He shook his head. "No, I have to say it... and I realize now, that I should have said it a long time ago... Garima told me, warned me... but I never thought... my own daughter..."
He was making no sense.
"Papa, please, calm down," Khushi said, shakily reaching out to wipe the fresh set of tears pouring down his aged cheeks.
Alok, however, grasped her hand and clutched it to his heart. "Listen to me Khushi," he said, his voice shaky, but surprisingly steady. "You are my child, my daughter...so, of course, you matter to me. If you didn't, why would I push you to do what I thought was best for you? Just because I was harsh doesn't mean that I didn't care... In fact, I cared too much.
I cared about how you would stand against a society that still views women as homemakers; I cared about how you would ever start a family of your own if you were too busy working; I cared about how your husband could digest your success... it may be old fashioned, but I have seen enough to know that it still happens. You really think I don't know how much your mother has sacrificed? She held us together... just look, where all of us ended up without her."
Khushi listened, feeling a lump form in her throat.
"I knew you didn't like my methods... but I always thought when you would grow older, you would understand. Understand that whatever I did, it made you stronger... made you resilient... and if I was truly being honest, you proved to be my child more than Vihaan ever did."
Khushi was stunned. She had longed to hear her father's approval for as long as she could remember, and when it was finally said, she didn't know how she felt about it.
"You don't have to love me, Khushi... but please... just don't hate me. My intention was not to torment you, I was just trying to take care of you... as I knew best."
"I don't hate you," she mumbled. And it was partly true. She hated his behaviour, sure, but she didn't know whether she truly hated him. "I just wish... you tried to understand me too... it wasn't easy for me, growing up in Vihaan's shadow... not knowing why you didn't have time for us..."
Alok patted her hand, still wrapped securely in his. "I can't bring back your childhood... nor Vihaan's... but I promise to stand by you both, even if I don't agree with either of your choices... Consider it my repentance for getting you married to Arnav."
Khushi exhaled sharply, the mention of Arnav bringing back Myra's haunting words.
Her father was quick to catch on. "I know you won't believe me... but I really did not know the extent of Arnav's past relationship... I had assumed –wrongly– that he had moved on, since Myra had disappeared to Dubai and Arnav took over his father's company in earnest."
Khushi didn't know whether she believed it. And even if she did, she knew it wouldn't lessen her pain.
"Back then, with the loss of your mother so fresh in my heart, I only thought of securing a future for you, rather than finding a future that would make you happy. And the only way I knew how was to fix an alliance that would forever be indebted to our family."
"And... you just expected me to... adjust?"
Alok closed his eyes, unable to look at her accusing eyes. "Yes."
Khushi didn't know what to say to that. She knew this was her father apologizing, even though he would never actually utter those words. He really was remorseful about the way he had treated her.
What she didn't know was whether she was ready to forgive him. After all, twenty-six years of animosity doesn't vanish in a day.
"The choice is yours Khushi," Alok said hoarsely. "If Arnav doesn't make you happy... then leave him."
Of all the things her father had uttered that evening, this was had to be the most shocking.
"Are... are you sure?" Khushi croaked, not daring to believe anything.
"No," he answered, honestly. "But this is your life... I have meddled enough. If you are sure, then I will be sure too... Just whatever you decide to do... please tell me. It was hard enough watching your brother leave, I'm not sure if I can watch you do the same."
Khushi didn't know what to say.
It was clear that Vihaan's departure had impacted Alok very deeply, much more that he was willing to admit out loud. And her outburst today probably didn't help matters. Perhaps she had indeed been judging her father too harshly all these years as her mother used to say. Perhaps like Alok had admitted, the fault was his absence, more than his harshness.
"Um Dr. Gupta?"
Khushi looked over her shoulder to see the nurse nervously step in.
"It's time for his pain medication."
Khushi nodded, and watched as the nurse pushed a dose of opioids into Alok's IV line, her brain miles away from the hospital room.
She had gone to Gupta Manor that evening only to see her mother, to seek solace in her embrace one last time before she left the city. But now, with her father's heart attack and his newfound request to not leave him like Vihaan had, she didn't know if walking away was the solution.
But going back to the penthouse, going back to Arnav was not a solution either.
"Oh, that reminds me," Alok murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open as the medications took effect. "You have to sign the property papers soon... The lawyer will call."
Khushi blinked, not following him. "What papers?"
"I've named both you and Vihaan as my heirs... you will get fifty percent of the company and all of our assets."
Khushi's mouth hung open.
"Call... my secretary... she'll... explain."
Khushi sat there long after her father had dozed off, failing miserably to collect her thoughts.
And the only reason I even know that, was because I was looking for you like a crazy man, calling every goddamn person related to you... tell me, how do you plan to fix that? How do you plan to change the months of time I wasted looking for you, for trying to understand your choices! Do you even realize what all of this has cost me?!
How could she forget? The torment, the pain, the anger... she was perhaps the only person who had witnessed firsthand the lengths Arnav had gone to looking for Myra. So now that she was back, clearly repentant, what was stopping him from going back to her? And even if he didn't, would she, Khushi, be able live with him knowing that she was not his soulmate, but merely a convenient compromise?
It was well past midnight by the time Khushi gave up trying to find an answer. Double checking the monitors hooked up to Alok, she exited his room. The cardiac critical care unit was mostly deserted, save for a few nurses on night duty.
Arnav –expectedly– was sitting a few paces from the door, his face grave. He stood up as soon as he spotted her.
"How is he doing?" he asked softly.
"Good."
They stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak or perhaps looking for the correct words.
It was finally Arnav who broke the silence. "Look, I'm sorry you had to find out about everything like this but believe me I never wanted to hide anything from you. Our whole relationship started off on the wrong note, and things–"
"I want a divorce."
Silence followed her statement. Arnav stared at her uncomprehendingly.
"I will move my things out first thing in the morning."
Arnav regained some of his composure. "You want a divorce?!"
"Yes."
He couldn't believe his ears and for the first time in a very long time, Khushi saw his kind eyes contort into rage.
"So, you're telling me," he repeated, struggling to keep his voice low. Over his shoulder, Khushi saw a few nurses throw them curious glances. "That after everything we have been through, when both of us are finally on the same page about each other, you want to call it quits?! And all for what? Because my ex showed up without warning? The same ex I spent an hour telling off about how much I love you?"
Khushi turned on her heels and walked to the end of hallway.
"Where the hell are you going?!" Arnav snapped, following her.
She led him into an empty supply closet and made sure the door was firmly shut before answering him: "You don't love me."
Arnav, somehow looking much bigger in the crammed space, loomed over her, utterly exasperated and not to mention, livid. "OF COURSE I LOVE YOU KHUSHI!!"
She flinched at his tone, being sourly reminded of the angry outbursts he used to have many moons ago in the early days of their marriage.
"I've loved you since the beginning!" he continued furiously. "I was just too stupid to realize it! And how can I not?! You are the most perfect person I have ever met in my whole goddamned life, why wouldn't I love you?!"
No matter how much she wanted to, Khushi couldn't get herself to believe his words.
"No," she interjected. Her voice, compared to his, was very low. "You think you love me, but the truth is, it's just convenience."
Arnav, it appeared, was too angry to reply.
"And I get it, it's hard not to think we are in love when everyone around us keeps saying it is."
"I don't care what our family says Khushi, I'm talking about me and you! Don't I know what my heart wants?"
"Do you really?" she asked rhetorically.
"Yes, of course!"
"So then tell me this: if Myra was never a part of your life and if my father wasn't pulling the strings, would you have still chosen to marry me?"
"Of cour-"
She didn't let him finish. "Or better yet, if I went to the same college as you and Myra, would you have picked me instead of her? Or if Myra hadn't broken the relationship off and left for Dubai, would you still have considered marrying me? If Myra had indeed picked up your phone call the night before our wedding, would you have gone through with our wedding? If Myra ended up keeping your child, would you have still chosen to stay with me?"
Arnav was flabbergasted.
"So you see, you love me because all of these things didn't happen. You love me because it was easy, because it was convenient, because it was the responsible thing to do. And I don't want that."
Arnav stared at her, as though seeing her truly for the very first time. When he finally gathered himself enough to speak, his voice was stiff with pain, rather than anger.
"Khushi."
Her stomach dropped. A few hours ago, there wasn't anything in the world she wouldn't give to remove the ache bursting forth from him.
"Please be rational... I understand that seeing Myra show up like that out of nowhere was awful for you, but believe me it meant nothing... I wish you had heard our entire conversation, you would know then that there is no one but you."
He stepped closer, flooding Khushi in his alluring, musky scent and very gently, stroked her cheek. She knew she should step away, but like a deer caught in headlights, she couldn't move.
"I'm sorry that your childhood was so messed up," he continued. "But I am not your father and you are not my second choice. So let's please end this ridiculous fight and go home."
"No."
Arnav stared at her, his face a perfect mix of pity and pain. "I know you're feeling insecure–"
White hot anger coursed through Khushi. "I'm not insecure–"
He backtracked at once. "I meant–"
"I don't want to know what you meant," she snapped, stepping back to create some space in between them. "You've had a million chances to explain–"
"And I did," he cut in earnestly. "I wanted to come clean about Myra and the baby and all the stupid things I have done... remember the night we made brownies?"
Khushi narrowed her eyes, trying to recall the conversation they had.
"I was going to tell you, but you didn't want to hear it. You said you liked knowing that Myra was a closed chapter and you didn't want to talk about her and make it a present one."
Khushi had indeed said that. But that was before, when she didn't know just perfect Myra was, or how close she had been to giving him the perfect family he so clearly wanted.
"Can't we keep it like that?" he asked softly.
She desperately wanted to.
Out loud, however, all she said was: "I need to go."
Arnav blinked, the truth of her decision weighing down on his shoulder like a mountain. "So was it all a lie then... everything you said about not being bothered by my past?"
She looked at the floor, just as defeated as him. "Maybe."
He didn't answer, perhaps finding her as unreasonable as Myra, if not even more.
It didn't matter though.
Khushi was just about done fighting all the impossible situations thrown in her face. She deserved better, he of all people had to understand that. So, giving him one last look, she turned away, intending to leave.
Arnav had none of it though. No sooner had her left hand closed around the door knob, he caught her right and pulled her sharply against his chest. Khushi went tumbling into his arms, and without warning, he held her tightly against him and kissed her with all his might. Thrown off completely by his action, she had no choice but to surrender to his sweet, soft lips.
When they broke apart after a few minutes, breathless, she stared wide-eyed at the man she had fallen in love with.
"I love you," he said, his eyes molten, just like how they were the night before when he told her he wanted her. "I don't know how else to prove it to you.... But I do. Truly, deeply, irrevocably... I love you."
Khushi took a deep breath, his proximity not helping the turbulence running wild within her.
"I know you've had a rough day, so sleep on it... in fact, take all the time you need, I promise I'll be patient, just like how you were with me at beginning. But don't ever insult me again by calling yourself convenient. You are my wife: Dr. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada and I'm going to make sure as hell it stays that way."
And even though it felt like every inch of him was fighting to hold on, she felt Arnav's arms loosen around her. She stepped away from his embrace, feeling the emptiness piercing her heart as she unlocked the door and stepped out from the closet, not knowing if this was the end.
It sure felt like it.
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A/N: No, this is not the end.
I'm not 100% happy with the way the remaining 4 chapters turned out, so I decided to hold onto them for a few more days. I'm not sure if it happens to other writers, but sometimes, my characters become such distinct personalities that I have a hard time understanding them, let alone writing them. But please don't stress, you will absolutely read the ending of this story.
Thank you once again for sticking with me... I started writing more than a decade ago, and to this day it feels surreal to read your comments. Thank you truly for all the love and support.
I will be back very soon with the ending.
Love,
Archi