Shorts: An IPKKND Collection

Tu Jaane Na

Just wait. The day that girl comes into your life ... Without whom your heart will stop beating. Without whom you won't be able to live. You'll feel as though your very breath will stop if you don't have her ... Whenever something comes into your heart, you should say it immediately.

His sister's words rang in his ears as he navigated the spiralled staircase that led to the terrace. Arnav took the stairs two at a time, his pulse racing and his body almost thrumming with anticipation. His heart somehow managed to beat to the rhythm of her name.

Khushi, Khushi, Khushi.

He stopped at the door at the top of the stairs, breathing deeply to steady his nerves before patting the pocket of his suit, reassuring himself that the small box he'd snatched from his wardrobe safe was still there. Then, with the image of her shy smile swimming behind his eyelids, he swung the door open.

Arnav froze in the doorframe.

Khushi stood with her back to him, still clad in the burnt-orange salwaar suit she'd worn during the day. Her hand was extended towards one of the strings of fairy lights decorating the temporary stage Di had arranged for family photographs. Her hair was still unbound, and his hand curled into a fist as he reined in his desire to run his fingers through it.

All in good time, Arnav.

Some sixth sense alerted Khushi to his presence, and she chose that moment to turn. Her eyes met his as she smiled tentatively. Arnav approached slowly, watching the twist and untwist of her hands as her eyes found the floor, and came to a stop at the edge of the stage, unwilling to add to her anxiety.

"Khushi," he hoped she couldn't hear the tremble in his voice, "I need to speak with you."

"Wh-why?"

Her chest rose and fell as her breath came in heaving gasps, and he recognised the beginnings of panic.

"Relax," Arnav urged, taking two steps forward as the impulse to comfort her swelled within him.

She responded by scrambling backwards until her back hit the pillar she was closest to.

"What's so important?" she asked, "I have to help Jiji get ready, and I'm sure your family needs you. There's a wedding going on, Arnav-ji. And you ... you have no right to call me up here like this, all alone. What if someone sees us?"

Khushi's voice solidified as she spoke, until her chin was jutting up in defiance and the spark was back in her eyes. He twisted his mouth into a grimace even as a part of him recognised that her words were an attempt to navigate the unknown. She must suspect what he'd come here to say, especially after the bindi-on-the-mirror gesture earlier.

Today I'm going to reveal why you, and everything connected to you, matters. Kyun farak padta hai, Khushi. Aur hamesha padega. [Why it matters, Khushi. And always will.]

"Oh really," Arnav instilled as much sarcasm as possible into his tone, "I have no right?"

"N-no."

"Ahh. I assumed I did since you're wearing the bangles I gave you. You've been wearing them all day."

In fact, I doubt you took them off to sleep.

Khushi's eyes flicked to the red-orange-gold bangles that adorned her wrists.

"Why are you still wearing them?" he pressed, "Who am I to you?"

"They're ... uhh ... well ... they were the only thing I could find that matched this suit," she claimed, adorably defiant.