24th November
These morning conversations were getting easier.
Khushi had learned to avoid any mention of the engagements, Lavanya-ji, or Aakash-ji and Jiji's wedding. These topics, and anything connected to them, forced a silence so complete that any hope of conversation and friendship seemed aeons away. Instead, they spent their mornings talking about ... nothing. And yet, everything. It almost felt like a code to her, a way of exploring everything that was between them without actually mentioning any of it.
Every morning, he met her at the front door, asking if she was ready in that soft, rough tone that made her weak-kneed. Arnav-ji always opened the car door for her and helped her inside with a hand on her back, sending a frisson of energy through her with every touch.
Today they talked about old movies, discovering an unexpected shared interest. They argued good-naturedly - Namak Haram vs. Karz, Sholay vs. Veer, Coolie vs. Guide.
Instead of ringing the doorbell as usual, Arnav-ji stopped her at the door to his home and looked at her intently before taking her name. Softly. Intimately. All at once, Khushi knew that she wasn't ready for this conversation, barely a week after Lavanya-ji had left for London. She sidestepped him and rushed inside without responding, busying herself with Nani-ji and Anjali-ji and refusing to make eye contact. He lingered for a few moments, his gaze a physical thing she felt between her shoulder blades, before withdrawing upstairs.
She spent hours feeling guilty, recognising that he'd only been trying to mend what was broken. The late afternoon found her standing outside his bedroom, having spent most of the day gathering her courage. But her hand froze when she reached up to knock.
Khushi. You can do this. Just knock. He won't eat you. Oh Devi Maiyaa, please protect me.
The door swung open before she made a decision.
"Khushi?"
"I ... You ... I mean," Khushi took a deep breath, "I wanted to talk. About ... about this morning."
"Oh-kaaayy," he looked confused as he invited her in with a gesture.
Khushi warily stepped inside, stopping beside his sofa to look back at him. The man she loved. The man she wanted with her for the rest of her life. The man who didn't believe in love or marriage, who'd broken off a year long relationship eight days ago, leaving one of her closest friends heartbroken.
"Arnav-ji ..."
He took a few steps towards her but she stopped him with a gesture.
"No. I need ... I need time."
These were not the words she'd practised in her mind all day, but as they dropped from her lips, Khushi acknowledged the truth of them.
Arnav-ji stared at her, his gaze so intense that she wondered, as she had many times these past few months, at the force that tied her to him so inexorably that it seemed plausible - even rational - that he could read her every thought. His eyes closed briefly as he nodded.
"How much time?" he asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"I don't know. Just ... time."
The silence in the confines of his car was deafening; a ringing in her ears so loud, so permeating, that it stayed with her long after he'd dropped her home and driven away in an angry squeal of tyres.