Shorts: An IPKKND Collection

Nainital Reimagined: Part 4

Arnav

Fighting sleep, he watched her carefully for signs of wakefulness. Khushi seemed asleep, but he'd learnt his lesson.

She gave me a blanket.

No, she hadn't simply given him a blanket. She'd tucked it around him so his hands and feet were covered.

I yearn for her.

It was an ache he'd never felt for anyone else. It went beyond simple lust. He wanted to be the secret behind her smiles, the mischief behind her blushes, the heat behind her racing pulse.

Her tears undid him, made him want to carry her away to where she was safe from everything that could cause her harm.

What the hell does she want?

Her signals threw him into confusion. Her little gestures, these tiny things she did to show she cared, allowed hope to blossom inside him – a hope she dashed every time she pushed him towards Lavanya.

Lavanya was a nice girl, a good friend, but he didn't want her. The spark between them had died out when he'd met Khushi; the slow burn of his feelings for this smiling girl from Lucknow had taken over and obliterated the thought of Lavanya from his mind.

She's everywhere. She's driving me to madness.

Khushi attacked all his senses. Trapped with her in his car, he'd battled with his lust all day. And when he'd finally mastered it, she'd returned from the public facilities dressed as a bride. His bride. The dhaba owners had mistaken them for an eloped couple, and Khushi had milked it for all it was worth to force him to stay with her.

He'd needed distance, for himself ... and for her. She wasn't safe from his desire; it burned so strongly that it threatened to overwhelm what little control he had. And now ...

Lightning flashed outside, followed by the low roar of thunder. The storm outside seemed to reflect his inner turmoil.

Khushi squirmed under her blankets.

It was a good thing that Arnav Singh Raizada didn't believe in destiny, or he'd start to think that fate was mocking him.

A lifetime of avoiding marriage ... and I'm here posing as her husband, sharing this tiny apartment and tinier bedroom while the rest of the world thinks we're celebrating our Suhaag Raat.

Lightning lit up the room again, and this time thunder boomed directly overhead, making the air vibrate for several long seconds. In the silence that followed, he heard Khushi whimper.

"Amma," she called.

He was at her side in an instant. Arnav knelt beside the bed, one hand on Khushi's forehead as he caressed the crease between her eyebrows.

"Ssshhhhh, Khushi," he whispered, "It's okay."

She relaxed slowly, her chest rising and falling to a gentler rhythm as her pulse calmed. When she turned in her sleep, she trapped his hand under her cheek and nuzzled into it, mumbling something he didn't hear. His heart skipped several beats.

He stayed like that until the storm abated, reaching over to touch her whenever she seemed in danger of waking from fear. When he stood, hours later, his knees protested, having locked as he knelt on the unforgiving concrete floor.

Ignoring the pain, Arnav limped to his chair and set it beside the bed. He settled into it, watching Khushi as his thoughts swirled chaotically. He was still sitting there when the first light of dawn crept through the windows and chased away the shadows.