Khushi pinched herself for the third time this morning. She couldn't believe that the man beside her was her husband. Arnav Singh Raizada, international multimillionaire, had spent the morning driving her around London, pointing out interesting buildings and sights. They'd parked the car and walked around, strolling hand-in-hand as Arnav-ji explained what everything was and why it was interesting. He'd taken her across a splendid bridge, to the top of the tallest tower she'd ever seen, and into a beautiful church. He'd held her hand as they rode on the world's biggest ferris wheel, and whispered reassurances to her when she'd panicked at the height.
Arnav-ji told her that London was his favourite city in the world. He loved the buzz and the rush of it, he'd explained, the mix of the old and the new. He even claimed to like the weather, but Khushi thought he was exaggerating. It was too grey for her tastes, but the streets awash with festival colours more than made up for the sombreness. The more Khushi saw of the city, the more she realised that her husband shared its pulse. They were alike in some ways - cold and harsh and forbidding from the outside, but warm and gentle and tender when you dug a little deeper.
Khushi watched him fiddle with a complicated looking camera.
"Do you like photography?" she asked, realising that they'd never spoken of their simple likes and dislikes.
"Mmm hmmm," he hummed absently as he swapped one part out for another, identical, part, "I took those photos hanging in our room."
Khushi grinned, delighted with the unexpected discovery, but more pleased with his choice of words. Our room. She thought he looked incredibly handsome, frowning in concentration as he carefully lined up shots. Arnav-ji took photos of her in front of every building, statue, and street sign, and after much pestering and pouting (on her part), and sighing (on his), even posed for a few with her.
They ate lunch at an Indian restaurant - Khushi was glad to see some familiar food - and he bought her jalebi when she wasn't paying attention. When she shivered from the cold, he placed his jacket around her shoulders while pressing a light kiss to her hair. She was touched by how attentive and protective he'd been all day.
They returned to their hotel in the early afternoon, where Arnav-ji stepped away to make phone calls and work on his laptop. Khushi passed the time by unpacking her things, but when she tried to claim the second bedroom, he forcibly took her things into the bedroom he was staying in. She gave in, hanging her clothes next to his in the wardrobe, and then watched some TV.
She fell asleep on the couch, tired from her flight, the emotional morning, and the hectic day. Khushi woke to a darkened room, lit only by the flicker of the TV and the evening twilight outside. Arnav-ji was asleep with his head on her shoulder, one hand clasped in hers. Her heart surged with emotion as she reached up to sweep his errant fringe from his face. The soft touch woke him, and he mumbled her name as his eyes struggled to focus on her. Khushi remembered the morning at Bua-ji's house when she'd woken up to find that he'd slept holding her hand.
She hoped it meant something, him waking up with her name on his lips. She hoped it meant that he felt for her what she felt for him.
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Forgive Her Anything (IPKKND AU) #Wattys2016
Fanfiction(IPKKND AU) In love with his brother-in-law's mistress, Arnav Singh Raizada is torn between his duties as a brother and his feelings for a woman who could destroy everything he loves. After giving his wife a final chance to explain herself at the ai...
