Arnav took in the glimmering city view from his penthouse, sipping on a glass of wine –one of the finest sent as a congratulatory gift for the new mall project he had finalized last week– and waiting impatiently for the clock to tick faster. After three treacherous days, it was finally Sunday and like his mood, the evening air held a perfect mix of tranquility and excitement.
It had been a decent weekend overall. He finished everything he had wanted to, including getting through all the mundane files he usually left to the end of the week in pure procrastination and running to the grocery store to stock up for the upcoming week. He even cleaned the whole penthouse, dusting et al.
And despite all that, he had been utterly bored.
For the first time in many weeks, Arnav had time for himself without any lingering regrets of days bygone and ironically, he didn't want any of it. What he wanted was coming home to the excitement of cooking a meal, of hearing about new cases Khushi had stumbled upon that day, of discussing what to watch on Netflix or best of all, taking a walk through the nearby park.
What Arnav wanted was companionship. And not just anyone's. Khushi's presence had become that deep rooted in his life.
He never imagined, even in his wildest dreams that things would settle so quickly. After the storm he had weathered, he had assumed the reparations would take forever. That he would be in pain for years to come. And yet, to his great surprise, moving on came easy.
Perhaps it was because what he did before was unnatural. Perhaps he should have simply accepted the circumstances of his marriage instead of fighting it. Maybe then the happiness and relief he was experiencing now would have come months ago.
Of course, the happiness wasn't hidden. Lavanya was quick to spot it when he met her for brunch earlier that day and handed her a loaf of her favorite banana bread that he had baked in an attempt to kill time. Of course, she also proceeded to tease him about it, asking how Khushi managed to convince him to cook again when she, Lavanya, had failed for many months now. He had laughed it off, not wanting to invite her to start a discussion about his love life.
What he had with Khushi was special, beyond any logic or explanations. Perhaps it was more than love too, because what was passion without understanding? What was affection without acceptance? He had learned by now that love could wane with time, but true friendship would stay.
Everyone may not understand that, he certainly didn't expect his family to, but he knew Khushi would. That was what he prized the most about her. He could count on her to know, to empathize and to accept. She made life effortless.
And that's why he was waiting so impatiently for her to return home– no, to their home. Their dinner –Italian tonight– was cooked and already laid out on the table. He saved the cupcakes she requested for dessert.
The clock read half past nine when the locks on the front door turned, announcing Khushi's arrival. Smiling, Arnav set down his wine and almost ran to the entrance hall. His heart dropped in unfathomable worry upon the sight of her.
Dressed in faded jeans and a white –probably her favorite color judging by the number of times she wore it– cotton kurti, Khushi looked completely exhausted and pale, save for her extremely red nose and puffy eyes. He ran to her side, grabbing her suitcase and handbag from her hands, wondering why on earth she looked so ill.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.
"Nothing," she croaked. Her voice was hoarse and several notches lower than usual.
Arnav instinctively touched her forehead, feeling her temperature. She shivered in response.
"You're burning up," he murmured, realizing his hand probably felt cold to her.
"I'm fine."
He snorted. "Yeah right. Let me grab my wallet, we need to go see a doctor–"
She gave him an incredulous look. "I'm coming from a bus full of them."
"And yet all of them put aside their better judgement and let you come home in this state! You should have been taken to the emergency–"
"Emergency for fever?" she rasped.
Arnav sighed. "Are you always this difficult when sick? You have high fever, you need–"
"Rest," she stressed. "That's what I have been advised."
He disagreed. "You need medicine–"
"Arnav please," she interrupted pointedly. "I had enough of Ved fussing over me... I don't need you to do the same."
Guilt pooled in the pit of his stomach at that. It was clear that she was tired and not to mention, frail. Why was he badgering her in this condition? So, trusting her judgement –after all she was a doctor– he led her to the living room and seated her on the sofa before disappearing into kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a steaming cup of hot water mixed with honey and a pinch of lemon.
"Here," he said, handing it to her.
She skeptically looked at the vapor rising out of the mug.
"It will help with the sore throat," he murmured pushing it into her hands.
She relaxed upon feeling the warm cup in her hands, cradling it in her lap and subsequently leaning back against the sofa, closing her eyes.
Arnav chuckled silently. "It will also help if you drink it."
She nodded but didn't move.
He sighed in response and sat down on the coffee table across from her. "So, will you tell me what exactly happened?"
"It's just regular influenza..."
"How about in plain English?"
She opened her eyes at that, biting down a grin at the corners of her mouth. "Influenza is a virus that causes the common cold. It's no big deal."
"Your voice seems to disagree."
She took a sip from the cup. "Well my voice will need to understand," she answered much less coarsely. The water –much to his relief– was helping. "I just need to rest, and I will be fine... I have important appointments tomorrow–"
"You're going to work tomorrow?"
She simply drank some more water.
"Hate to break it you," Arnav said seriously. "But you aren't leaving this apartment until this influenza thing goes. Besides what kind of a hospital makes doctors work even when they are sick?"
"I am not sick... it's just–"
"Just influenza?" he retorted sarcastically. "The way I see it, you are contagious. So, don't make me call Awasti and complain about you."
Khushi glared at him. "You can't pull the trustee card on me forever, you know?"
"I will if you're being unreasonable. How hard is it to accept that you are sick?"
She pursued her lips, refraining from answering.
And that's when it suddenly clicked. She didn't like being or rather, appearing, weak. For some silly reason, she assumed being ill was a sign of vulnerability.
"Khushi," Arnav said earnestly. "You can't control when you fall sick... maybe your body is telling you to take things easy."
"Yeah yeah," she sniffed.
He didn't reply, realizing that she was much too irate for a sane conversation. So, he changed the topic: "Did you eat dinner?"
She twiddled her thumbs. "I'm not hungry."
"You need your strength–"
Her lips curled into a pout, making her look nothing less than a five-year-old on the onset of a tantrum. Arnav didn't know whether to be amused or bewildered.
"Okay," he said, shifting his stance. "What do you feel like eating?"
"Nothing."
"How about kichidi?"
She appeared too horrified to speak.
He suppressed a laugh. "Soup?"
"Arnav," she whined.
"But you have never tasted my hot and sour soup. You will be amazed, I promise."
"I don't want to be amazed."
"Then what do you want to be?"
Khushi sunk lower onto the couch as though she completely wanted to disappear from view. He felt pity course through him, realizing how wretched she must be feeling to be so cranky.
"I want my nose to not feel like it's drowning," she muttered. "I want my head to not weigh a million pounds... I want my body to not act like it's been hit by a bus ... I..."
"You don't want to be sick?"
She sighed in disappointment.
Arnav didn't know what to say. She had gone to Nainital for a noble cause; it was unfair that she returned sick. But perhaps he was fussing too much... there was no rule anywhere saying that doctors cannot fall ill.
So, holding her hands in his, he said gently, "I'm sorry you feel so miserable... but that's cost of being human."
She didn't answer.
"How about," he continued. "You drink my hot and sour soup and go to sleep? I promise you'll wake up a new person tomorrow."
She gazed at him with vast doe-shaped eyes before slowly nodding in agreement.
Relieved, Arnav got to work. So much for surprising her with an Italian feast, he thought disappointedly.
Exactly twenty minutes later, he was once again in the living room carrying a tray laden with the promised soup and a few slices of bread. Khushi –changed into her pajamas– was waiting for him.
"Can you hold this?" he asked, for she looked too feeble to even sit up.
Khushi rolled her eyes and pried the tray off his hands, setting it carefully on her lap.
"I'm not dying," was all she muttered before taking a spoonful of soup.
"It's hot," he cautioned.
She went ahead and gulped it down anyway. "Good, maybe I will thaw a little," she added drily.
Arnav grinned. "Was Nainital seriously that bad?"
She didn't hesitate for even one second. "Yes."
"Why? You said it was beautiful..."
"It is," she mumbled, chewing on some bread now.
"But?"
"But it's not very reliable with electricity. There was a power outage both nights... I was covered in so many blankets and still shivered to death."
Arnav frowned. What kind of a guesthouse did the hospital book? Wasn't it their responsibility to make sure their residents had decent accommodations when sending them out of station?
"Who was your supervisor? Why didn't they do anything about it?" he asked, unimpressed.
Khushi shrugged. "What could he do? Besides this trip was meant to help the locals... not treat us to a five-star vacation."
Arnav didn't reply, his mind suddenly overtaken by dramatic imaginations of Khushi stuck in a dark, dingy room, shivering under thin blankets. He blinked, resolving to have a serious word with the hospital board.
"So that's how you got sick," he concluded.
"It was just at night," she replied, absent-minded. "Daytime was fine. We got a lot of patients."
"Don't sugar coat it," he muttered, slightly irate. Did she not realize how weak she was? "Next time, I'm packing for you... clearly, you're incompetent at taking warm clothes."
Khushi was indignant. "I did pack warmly! And Ved was nice enough to give me his jacket the second night on top of that..."
"Well, good to know someone is looking after you when I'm not around."
She set down the tray –empty– with a little hmph. "I'm not delicate."
There it was again– her need to appear strong and independent. Although Arnav had always subconsciously known that she prided herself on being self-sufficient, he had only really registered it in the past few weeks. She only looked quiet and docile, but by nature, she was far from it.
It seemed a little bizarre now, but Arnav knew it was a matter of importance for her. So respecting that, all he said was: "You need rest... why don't you sleep?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to sleep..."
"Why not?"
Khushi glanced at him shyly, before shrugging her shoulders. "Just like that... you didn't have dinner. I will give you company."
She had missed him. It was so plain and simple.
And although the circumstances were unsuitable –influenza be damned– Arnav couldn't help but be elated. After so long, someone was wanting him for just the way he was... no job or status or responsibility. Just his presence and nothing else. It was invigorating.
So, clearing his throat, he simply asked, "Netflix?"
Khushi beamed in response.
Collecting the empty tray she had set down, Arnav dashed off to the kitchen, cleaning up as quickly as humanly possible before grabbing a plate of his own dinner and reappearing in the living room.
"What do you want to watch?" Khushi asked.
"Anything... wait one second," he muttered, before running to the bedroom and seizing a soft powder blue blanket.
"How about a series?" she inquired, when he returned.
Arnav cast the furry blanket around her shoulders, tucking it gently around neck. She gazed at him, surprised.
"You pamper me too much," Khushi murmured. "Thank you."
He smiled. "You can stop thanking me for stupid things... did you have a series in mind?"
"Ved and the other doctors were going on about the Witcher on the bus."
"Sure, put it on."
And not so surprisingly, Khushi dozed off, curled up in her furry little cocoon before they were even ten minutes into the first episode.
It was as Arnav wrapped his arm around her, gently nestling her head on his own shoulder for support that he realized how perfectly she was named. Even when sick, Khushi brought him nothing but joy.
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A/N: Hope everyone is safe and healthy! Thank you for the wonderful comments to the last chapter, really appreciate your support!
A lot of you asked why Khushi hesitated to say she is married in the last chapter... well, what could she have said? That she got married for a business deal? That she and her husband have this weird pact going on? It's too complicated... and Ved will definitely ask for details. If she had any clue that Ved may be having feelings for her, she would have made sure to say she is not "available". But she is ignorant when it comes to these things... anyway, be assured, this story is about Arnav and Khushi 😉
As for ArShi's love story... hasn't it begun yet? ❤️
Please vote & comment!
P.S. - I have decided to keep COVID-19 out of this story's universe... especially since Khushi is a doctor, if I introduce this crisis, the entire plot line will change ☹️ Hope that makes sense!