32. OS 18. Too Tempting to Resist (Part 32)

Part 32

Arnav looked into panicked eyes with something like a storm in his heart.

“I need to talk to you,” he blurted out.

Khushi hesitated a moment and then nodded. She was going to marry this Laad Governor. What was the point in refusing to talk to him?

They walked down the steps of the temple, silently matching their pace.

They paused near a low bench by a banyan tree.

Maybe they could sit here and talk, he thought, his eyes scanning the area to see if they would be left undisturbed. No, there were too many people about.

“Khushi, let’s have tea together,” he suggested, badly needing the privacy to ask her what he needed to know.

“No.” Khushi shot down the idea.

He sighed inwardly. She was not going to make this easy.

“Sit down,” he said motioning towards the bench.

Khushi sat.

He sat by her.

She inched away from him.

He drew in a deep breath for courage and patience.

Khushi looked away.

“Why did you agree to marry me?” he asked at this late date.

Fury rushed through her like tsunami waves, overpowering her. If she had gotten her hands around his neck, he would have been a dead man for sure.

“Khushi?” he asked, disturbed by her silence.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked, gimlet-eyed.

“Did your family force you to agree to our marriage?” he asked bluntly.

She stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment.

And then the fight left her. He could see the spirit leach out of her and he knew he had his answer.

His shoulders sagged.

They sat in silence for a long time, both lost in their unhappy thoughts.

Then she said softly, “They didn’t force me. I..I decided to do it for them. It is the least I can do.”

He looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“I owe them,” she said softly.

“Because they adopted you?” he asked bluntly.

Her surprised eyes looked into his for a moment. Then she nodded.

“Do you think they expect such...such sacrifice from you?” he asked softly.

She swallowed.

His eyes tracked the movement of her throat muscles.

“Maybe not...” she said slowly. She turned her head to look at him accusingly. “But you had to make it impossible for me to refuse.”

One brow went up in question.

“Dragging jiji into it. What was the need to do that? Aap ko pata hona chahiye tha na that everything we do affects jiji,” Khushi thundered.

Arnav frowned. “How?” he asked simply.

Khushi’s mouth fell open. “How? Aap pooch rahe hein how?”

He waited.

“Your brother is married to my sister. If I refuse your proposal, what will be my jiji’s izzath in her sasural?” she asked.

Arnav frowned. “What has my proposal got to do with Payal’s izzath?” he asked bluntly.

“You know nothing!” Khushi chastised. “Aap insaan ho ke machine? Your family would have taken their disappointment on jiji if I had refused. Matlab, my family feared they would.”

“Unbelievable,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“You should have thought twice before proposing,” Khushi informed him. “You put my jiji’s happiness at risk just to satisfy your whim.”

He looked at her angry visage. How to get her to understand that it wasn’t a whim, that he...that he...? He looked away.

A moment later, he said, “Khushi, why don’t you want to marry me?”

She pursed her lips. “Why should I want to marry you?” she asked bluntly. “You are much older than me.”

“Your parents don’t have a problem with that,” he countered.

Khushi had to admit he was right.

“You are akhdoo, khadoos. You lose your temper at the slightest excuse.” She gestured with her hand. “Your temper goes to satve aasman in seconds.”

He nodded. What couldn’t be countered had to be agreed to. “Yes,” he admitted. He paused for a moment and then said, “My diabetes makes me irritable.”

Khushi swallowed hard. Illness was not really something he had chosen to have. She had to concede this. It was only fair.

She nodded.

“And...”

“And?” Khushi asked, always curious.

“And my childhood...My parents died when I was young. Nani, mami and di brought me up,” he muttered.

Pity welled up in Khushi’s heart.

He turned his head and saw sympathy in her moist eyes. He, who normally had the greatest aversion to being pitied, felt comforted at the sight of her sympathetic tears. Suddenly he wanted to tell her the whole gory truth even if it turned her against him.

“My mama suspected that papa was having an affair and shot herself...with his gun,” he began.

Khushi gasped.

“He shot himself a couple of hours later,” he continued.

Khushi clutched her chest in shock.

“It was di’s wedding day. The shaadi didn’t happen, of course. We burned them together the next day,” he said, his voice emotionless, his face expressionless.

“He Devi Maiyya!” Khushi whispered.

The temple bells rang.

He expected questions from her, especially about his father’s infidelity. But she surprised him by remaining silent.

He turned to look at her white face.

“I am not like my father,” he comforted her.

She nodded slowly.

She didn’t demand any promises or make stipulations binding him to good behaviour.

“I will never hurt you, never subject you to the humiliation my mama felt. Never, Khushi,” he whispered.

She nodded.

The comfortable silence settled his heart and loosened his tongue. “I..I am not very...very comfortable dealing with people,” came the understatement.

Khushi nodded.

“I have always been alone,” he murmured, saying under his breath, “if anyone can be alone in the madhouse that’s my home.”

Khushi looked at him quietly.

“I thought...it is time to change that, maybe time to have a life,” he confessed. “That’s why I...”

Khushi nodded. “Yes,” she agreed.

“Do you hate me, Khushi?” he asked, his eyes directly on hers.