Shorts: An IPKKND Collection

Khushi's Laad Governor: Part 2

Hai Devi Maiyya! Why can't one thing ... just one thing ... go right when I'm around this man?

Khushi risked a glimpse at him but he turned his inscrutable gaze on her in the same moment. She quailed, her breath abandoning her in a rush as she swallowed in fear, and opted to drop to the pool's edge to retrieve the typewriter case rather than confront him.

She stretched and fetched the typewriter easily, trying to ignore the burn of his eyes as she watched the water pour out of the case.

Must he stare so ...?

"What happened here, Khushi?"

Anjali-ji had arrived at the poolside in silence. Khushi looked up at her reluctantly, her cheeks heating in embarrassment. She stood quickly and tried to explain the bizarre tableau.

"Sir was falling. This fell as I was trying to save him."

He's your boss, Khushi. Your boss. And you hate him. He's cruel, Godless, perpetually angry.

His eyes snapped back to her.

"I was falling?" he repeated incredulously, "You were falling. I saved you."

Khushi's gaze dropped as she recalled him – this man who'd forced her to stand in the rain – saving her from being crushed under a car.

"And Di, how do you know her?"

She took advantage of his inattention to quickly gather up the fallen files, only half listening to Anjali-ji's explanation.

"She came a few days ago with saris. Nani liked her saris, and the way she spoke."

His stare was hard and unyielding when Khushi stood, and it was only in that moment that she realised how soft and ... inviting ... he'd been earlier. All at once, she realised how this looked.

He'd stood in a darkened car park and accused her of scheming for his money, interpreting her ill-considered and ill-timed request for his home address as a means of worming her way further into his life.

Oh Devi Maiyya, he must think his accusations have borne fruit.

Her horror made it difficult for her to meet his eyes, so she directed her words to his sister.

"Forgive me, I dropped the typewriter in the water."

Her gaze slid to him again, as though he were a magnet and she a piece of iron filing, destined to find him again and again no matter how much she fought. Already well acquainted with his fury, she noted with a sinking heart that he burned with it now. Unable to withstand the force of it, she lowered her eyes as Anjali-ji tried to reassure her.

"Oh don't worry, it wasn't your mistake. Chhote won't mind, right Chhote?"

But Khushi was sure that he did mind. A lot.

He turned to face his sister.

"Come, get ready quickly," Anjali-ji smiled, "Nani is waiting for you at breakfast. Let's go, Khushi."

Khushi jumped slightly, surprised by the invitation, and uttered a soft agreement as he pivoted back to her. She started to turn away, every muscle in her body tightened in anticipation of his anger.

"File?" his voice was iron.

File? What file?

She blinked at him in confusion. He reached out and took the files from her hands.

"You can go now," her boss dismissed her without a glance, now irritably flicking through one of the files.

"What!?", Anjali-ji's protest was immediate, "How can she? She's been here all morning. You're unbelievable, Chhote."

"Di, she has a lot of work at the office, let her go."

Khushi swallowed nervously as they argued over her fate, apparently uncaring that she was still standing there and could hear every word.

"The office opens at nine," the steel in Anjali-ji's tone reminded Khushi that they were, in fact, brother and sister.

"Di, there's no need for this," he argued.

"There is. I said so," Anjali-ji turned to Khushi, "I won't let you leave without having tea."

Khushi opened her mouth to decline but froze under the weight of his angry stare. Her own eyes dropped.

Khushi Kumari Gupta. You are not a coward. Don't let this rakshas scare you.

She turned her eyes up to him as Anjali-ji spoke again.

"Don't look at him like that. He won't say anything. Come with me."

"Yes," Khushi mumbled, trembling slightly.

She followed Anjali-ji back into the house, acutely aware of his scalding regard with every step.

I'm a dead woman. He'll do a lot worse than throw me out of a window for this.

*****

The End

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