Changing Shades - 19

Chapter 19

He put down the phone, his head whirling. Khushi was back. She hadn't contacted him. She had gone straight back to Manish's parents' house. She hadn't even called Lavanya, she hadn't come to office. What did that mean?

The hours till the evening stretched interminably.

Pratibha greeted Arnav at the door of the new house and let him in, a gentle smile on her face. Her health seemed to be improving, he noticed. She was out of the wheelchair and walking, albeit slowly, although she was still painfully thin and weak. Mrs. Dewan fussed over her affectionately, scolding her for attending the doorbell, and Pratibha seemed to be responding to the warmth and love emanating from the older lady, even more than her medication. 

They were happy to see him, and Arnav tried to reciprocate their warm welcome with all the warmth he could muster. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast as he looked around for Khushi, but she was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Dewan and Pratibha led him into the small drawing room where a single diya was lit in front of a portrait of Manish.

Arnav looked at the smiling face in the picture, and he felt a lump in his throat. Manish – his friend and his enemy in one … they had both loved the same girl in different ways, but their love had had very different colors, different shades. Shades of friendship, of envy, of jealousy, of bitterness and revenge. But never the pure red of love. Neither had realized it at the time, and  neither of the two had managed to give her any happiness in their quest to outdo each other. But Manish had realized his mistake, and had tried his best to make up …

“Now it’s my turn,” thought Arnav silently as he looked at the picture, “and I will try … I will try my best, Manish … if she’ll let me …”

And then his heart contracted as a soft scent filled his nostrils and he knew without looking around – Khushi was there. He went still for a moment, then he turned slowly to face her.

She was standing at the doorway of the room, dressed in a simple pale blue saree, her hair long and loose, flowing down her back, a few silken strands falling in front over her forehead. She looked … beautiful. Her face was pale, her lips a soft pink, her eyes, those large, hazel green-gold eyes that had haunted his dreams for years, were soft as they gazed at him. She looked at him, he looked back at her and for a few moments, the whole room faded and it was just the two of them alone in the whole world … in the universe …

Then Mrs. Dewan broke in between them, cheerfully scolding.

“Arnav, why are you standing still? Come, beta … come and sit. Khushi beta, has Soni slept? Did she drink her milk? You sit with Arnav - I’ll go and see what’s keeping Baba. Pratibha, don’t stand for so long, my child, you’re still so weak.”

“Yes, ma, Soni’s sleeping. She …” started Khushi, breaking out of her trance.

“I’ll just go and check on the baby,” said Pratibha as she looked at Arnav and Khushi.

“Good, you do that, then take your medicine and sit with these two. I’ll call your baba and get the dinner ready.” Mrs. Dewan bustled out. Pratibha gave Khushi a look and went out after her.
Khushi came forward.

“Won’t you sit, Arnav? Can I get you a drink ...?” she began, in a polite, impersonal tone – a ‘hostess’ tone.

“When did you come back?” he asked softly, interrupting her. She winced slightly.

“Two days ago. Arnav, I …”

“You could have told me,” he said, still very softly. “I was waiting … for you.”

He made no move towards her, but his eyes touched her, caressed her. She flushed slightly and looked down.

“I … didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know I was waiting for you?” he asked incredulously.

She looked at him then, a little nervously, remembering the cutting words she had spoken to him in the hotel room, the words she had wished unspoken almost as soon as she had said them.

“I … wasn’t very nice … to you … in Kathmandu …”

“I haven’t been … very nice … to you for many months,” he said wryly. She smiled slightly, but didn't reply.

He took her arm and escorted her into the small drawing room. Khushi let him hold her arm, but moved away as soon as he was seated on the sofa, and sank down into a chair a little away from him.

"Where did you go?" he asked her, and as her expression changed, he rushed into speech. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me, Khushi. I was just ... worried. You disappeared, and even Lavanya didn't know where you were. I couldn't ask Aunty Dewan ..."

"I've resigned, remember?" she said with a straight face, and he looked at her, appalled

"Khushi, you don't ... you can't ... you don't mean that, do you? Especially now. Now that ..."

He fumbled to a stop, and she looked at him, a strange look in her eyes.

"Now that you know I'm not a gold digger after all?" she asked him, her voice flat, emotionless. "So if Raj hadn't called that night ... if I'd left ..."

His face turned a dull shade of red. He leaned forward in his chair, and spoke in low, urgent tones.

"If you'd left, I would have come after you, Khushi. You know that. I would have brought you back."

"To punish me further," she said, still in that flat, strange voice, and he winced.   

She got up from her chair and moved to the window, her back to him. He got up too, and moved to stand behind her. He searched for words, feeling more guilty than ever. He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes showing his torment.

“Come back – please?” he said urgently. “Khushi … please? To the office, if nothing else. Just come back. Everything will be all right … you know that. Give me a chance to make it up to you. Please, Khushi? Just one chance? I … I really want you back.”

She turned and looked up at him. He didn’t say any more – didn’t dare to say any more, and, mindful of Lavanya’s words, he didn’t want to – yet. But his eyes were blazing down at her and she flushed again. Slowly, she nodded.

“When?” he asked, still in that urgent tone. “Tomorrow?”

She nodded again, just as Mrs. Dewan came back into the room, supporting her husband. Arnav moved to help her and the rest of the evening passed in a blur, at least for him. He smiled, made polite conversation, offered condolences on Manish’s tragic passing, and did everything that was right, but later he never remembered a word of what he had spoken the entire evening. He came back to life again only when Khushi mentioned to her erstwhile mother-in-law that she would be going back to the office the next day. Mrs. Dewan looked at Khushi in not very pleased surprise.

“But … Khushi … you just came back ... so soon ...?”

“It’s okay, mummy,” said Khushi gently. “I need to get back to my normal life.” And we still need to pay the bills, she thought to herself. Arnav helped to organize the house, but I can’t take anything more from him. Whatever he says, these people are still my family, my responsibility – now, after Manish’s going, even more so.

“Will you be all right?” Mrs. Dewan asked worriedly. “And where will you stay? Again at the working women’s hostel? Can’t you stay here now, Khushi? I know it’s far, but I don’t like that place.”

“Why did Khushi stay at the hostel?” asked Arnav casually, his ears pricking. So this was the explanation for why Lavanya had needed to give Khushi a wake up call. Mrs. Dewan looked at him for support.

“Well, Arnav, earlier we were staying at the nursing home, and we just had that suite, that you saw, so she couldn’t stay with us,” she explained. “But more than that, the office is so very far from here. I get worried if she stays late and has to come back so far on her own. But the hostel isn’t so nice either.”

“I’ll look for something for her,” he promised Mrs. Dewan, and the older lady cheered up, obviously so much in awe of Arnav’s organizational abilities that she had no doubt he would keep his word.