13. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 17)

Part 17

Khushi looked at the silent house next door, feeling a hand close over her heart and squeeze out the last drop of blood.

Arnavji had left Lucknow.

He hadn’t come home to bid farewell to her but had walked away as silently as he had come to stay in Lucknow.

No more would he throw open his door when she banged on it.

Never would she see that slow smile or those beautiful chocolate eyes looking at her intently as though seeking answers to questions only he knew.

He wouldn’t drop in at night when she was busy making sweets. Her friend was gone.

“Khussi, get ready. We have to take lunch to jiji and Payaliya,” Garima said, joining her in the courtyard.

Khushi was too engrossed in her thoughts to hear her.

Garima looked at Khushi and then at the house next door she was staring at.

“Kya hua, Khussi?” she asked, taking hold of her shoulder.

Khushi looked at Garima with tears in her eyes. “Arnavji chale gaye, amma,” she murmured.

Garima stared at her, unable to process the hurt that Khushi was displaying at the news.

Finally, she asked hesitantly, “He had to go, didn’t he? Matlab, he lives in Delhi...”

A tear made its pathetic way down Khushi’s cheek.

Garima drew in a deep breath and advised softly, “Bitiya, he dislikes us. And I can’t blame him. If it were me in his place, shayad...chodo, Khussi. He came here for a reason, for revenge. It is over...and he had to return to his normal life.”

One more tear made its presence felt.

Garima added desperately, “Khussi, don’t be foolish. He hates us and I am sure he is not wasting a single moment thinking about you or us. He has his own life and we have our own.” A moment of wistfulness crept into her face and words. “Acha ladka he, not at all like his horrible father and uncle. Decent, well-behaved, kind, aur sab se alag, fair. Lekin in his mind, we will be his enemies always. He has lost too much because of me and regardless of his kindness to us, I don’t see how he can forgive me, ever. Khussi, forget him. Nahi to tumhari zindagi barbaad ho jayegi.”

“No, amma, he can’t hate me. He is my dost.” Khushi turned and ran to her room to sob her heart out.

                                                                   ***

Khushi walked up to the reception desk at the hospital.

“Maaf keejiyega, I should have inquired earlier, lekin I was so worried about babuji...and other things that it slipped my mind. The bill. I am Sasi Gupta’s daughter,” she said.

The receptionist checked Sasi Gupta’s account and replied, “Your bill has been paid, madam. It was paid immediately after Mr. Gupta was admitted here.”

Khushi’s mouth fell open.

“Koi galti hogi,” she insisted. “We haven’t paid anything. Aap theek se check keejiye.”

The employee rechecked her records. “Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada paid for one month, madam.”

Khushi stood there, gobsmacked. Even though he was physically away from her, his kindness was still making her life easy.

“He left the instruction that any money remaining after Mr. Gupta is discharged is to be handed over to his family,” the lady said kindly.

Khushi walked away, tears filling her eyes.

                                                         ***

While Akash was busy charting his bhai’s and his futures, ASR finished his conversation with Aman, threw his phone on the bed and shrugged out of his coat.

The phone rang.

Aman?

He marched up to the bed and grabbed the device. An unknown number. He answered it.

“Arnavji?” came the sweet call.

His heart skipped a beat.

Then he whispered, “Khushi?”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said “Yes. I am glad you haven’t forgotten me. I called Akashji and he told me your work would be finished only by midnight. Isliye humne ab phoone ki. Aap theek ho?”

He was lost for words. Was he alright? Would he be alright ever again?

“Aap itne kaam kyon karte ho?” she asked, frowning.

How could he tell her that work was a distraction from her?

“Khushi, I...I want to apologise,” he began.

“Kis liye?” she asked.

“For everything that happened in Lucknow,” he admitted.

“Are you apologising for becoming friends with me?” she asked directly, a poison arrow piercing her heart.

“No, no,” he replied. “For doubting your amma, for trying to take revenge on your family...”

“You want me to forgive you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he confessed.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she stated, “I will forgive you if you call me regularly.”

There was silence from his side.

“Haan, and visit me frequently. Matlab, dost he hum! You should visit me at least once a month. Tabhi hum aapoko maaf karenge,” she insisted.

He could only try to swallow the big lump of sorrow and regret that made breathing difficult. He had to stay away from her for her own good and she was making it very difficult to stay away. With zero instinct for self-preservation and a penchant for diving head-first into shark-infested waters, she was cultivating the friendship of a man whose mind and body were filled with poisonous memories and the blood of criminals and cheats. It was up to him to protect her from him, but it was a hard task, so hard that it was killing him.

“I have work, Khushi,” he finally managed to say. “I won’t have the time to travel or call regularly.” He shut his eyes, hoping that his words weren’t hurting her.

“Koi baat nahi,” she said easily. “Will you let me call you?”

“Hmmm,” he said, not having the will to say no even though he knew he should.

“We are very thankful to you, Arnavji,” she said softly.

He frowned.

“You paid for babuji’s treatment,” she answered his unasked question. “Amma said that you hate us, but you don’t, do you? If you did, you wouldn’t have spent so much money on us.”

After a long silence that saw him debating how and why he should lie and say that he hated her, he admitted, “No, I don’t hate you...or your family.”

He could feel her beam. “I told amma that you didn’t hate us,” she said with an air of triumph.

“I..I have to go now, Khushi,” he said, taking a world of comfort from saying her name.

“Ji, ji, aap so jayiye. I will call you tomorrow,” she promised him. “You are taking your medicines, right?”

“Yes.”

“Tab to theek he. Kal baat karte hein, Arnavji. Shubhratri...although it should be good morning now,” she signed off with a smile.

He held the phone to his ear long after she cut the call, swimming among tides of happiness and regret, eager to stay in touch with her but knowing that it was not the wisest thing to do.