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Let me just start off by sending out a HUGE, gi-normous, loud, heartfelt THANK YOU to all the people who, basically, made this chapter happen. A couple of weeks ago this fic was plagiarised and I had made up my mind that I would take down this fic and not continue on IF any longer. But after that, the support and love and encouragement of so many people who came up to help me and motivate me was - overwhelming, to say the least. I was blown away by you guys. If I'm still continuing with this story here, it's because of you guys. Thank you so much.
That said though, I'd like to seriously point out that if ever I come across another case of plagiarism, whether of my own works or of anyone other writer's, I will not hesitate to take down everything and discontinue writing on IF permanently. Plagiarism is hurtful, its disheartening, and having been a victim as both reader and writer, I beg everyone reading this not to stoop so low. You have no right to hurt other people this way. Please don't do it. What appreciation you get will be shortlived compared to anger and hate you'll get when you're discovered. And you will be discovered.
OK, on to less sombre matters ... like I promised, there is playful Arhi romance in the chapter below. I just felt like writing something playful and not too serious, and this happened. Hope you won't find it too pointless :s
Chapter Forty Six
With heavy reluctance stiff in her arm, Khushi reached to unbuckle her seatbelt, only to be stalled by a warm hand clasping for a second over hers.
'Wait,' he bade her, his murmur rumbling through the metre of space between them and instantly arresting all her movements. With one last meaningful look at her, his eyes luminous with their crippling magnetism, he gently removed her fingers from the seatbelt's clasp, clicking it open himself before pushing open his door and sliding out in one smooth motion.
An odd sense of bereavement descended upon her then, like the shadow of an uneasy dream, as her shy stare peeked at the lithe, imposing figure of her husband gliding across the windscreen, his movements fluid and seeming effortless, appearing within a space of a few blinks by her side, pulling her door open for her, his right hand silently offered before her, palm upwards.
Despondence grew heavier in her heart then, and she could feel its weight like a physical burden even as she fused her palm to his, her free hand hitching the skirts of her saree slightly to keep her feet from getting tangled into the folds.
'You - ' she croaked, her mingling anxiety and dismay taking the edge of the embarrassment she ought to feel at her obvious eagerness, ' - you'll come in, won't you? To see Bauji?'
Relief submerged her brain and spurted through her system as he nodded once, his jawbones set in sharp relief as he bent over her from his greater height. She could tell, from the swirl of liquid-light in his depthless gaze, that in that moment, as they both stood motionless, framed by the still open door of the four-wheeler, that his feelings were synonymous with hers.
They mirrored the same unwillingness as she was sure was scored into her features, that same edge of misery which had begun creeping up on her as their vehicle had turned into Laxmi Nagar, thickening the air with the same slightly stifling heaviness as the sooty, sticky mix of smoke and fog.
In some untouched corner of her mind, she knew that she was overreacting, was letting the newly discovered, freshly aired feelings flourishing within her sweep her away. It was only a matter of two days - a greater fragment of the first half of which she had spent with the very person this arrangement had promised to part her from. A tiny measure of guilt frantically chirped up too that she ought not overlook, in the afterglow of her fantasy-come-true, her priority of the moment - Bauji. He had only been discharged from the hospital this morning, and the sole reason for this short-notice sleepover had been to settle him at home under the company and care of his daughters. And as eager as she was to settle on the floor at Bauji's knee, quipping on and on about absolutely everything and nothing, relishing in the gentle cadence of the voice she had craved so badly to hear for so long -
- there was something entirely too compelling, entirely too selfish and stubborn, about this dimension of sensation unlocked for her the moment his ring had melded around her finger, reaching its touch all the way up her vein to her heart.
Where small bubbles of resentment fizzed now at this unhappy ploy of fate, cleaving them apart, no matter for how negligible a span of time when compared to the balking enormity of their forever - and that too just when they had toppled down the last barrier separating their hearts from resonating together, merging into one.
I love you...
If Khushi were not so morose, she might have been fairly annoyed at Devi Maiyya for her twisted sense of humour. Ek tarafh khai toh dusri tarafh kuwa-
Willing herself to get a grip, Khushi nudged the car door shut with her shoulder, sensibilities catching up with her belatedly as she dipped her chin into her collarbone, her cheeks warming at the thought of the unashamed longing she was sure he must have spied scrawled across her features, before making to brush past him through the small gate they had parked a foot away from, bracing herself for the knowing smiles and blatant teasing her aunt, mother and sister were sure to bestow upon her the minute she walked through those doors.
But she had yet to move an inch when the very same pair of olive-toned, callous hands which had handled her so very tenderly just moments before wrapped their lean digits about her upper arms in an unforgiving grip -
-and with a strangled yelp Khushi found her spine melding into the smooth, cool surface of her husband's pearl-white steed, eyes clamping involuntarily shut in her shock, just as her considerably bewildered brain noted the dull thuds echoing against both her ears.
She needed neither her eyes nor any conscious effort of thought to puzzle out that the thuds were from the two arms caging her in their confines.
Her none-too-impressive riposte tumbled out with a mouthful of trapped air, breathless and squeaky. 'What are you doing?!'
A gulp-come-gasp choked her just then, chafing her suddenly raw throat - the scorching heat of his right hand had settled possessively, dangerously low on the sway of her hip. Eyelids flew open in abject shock, the warmth she could feel permeating through the thin layers of her clothes cranking up her body temperature until she was certain her flesh would exude steam.
And as soon as she caught sight of the look on his face, her radar blared to life, sounding red alert. Something had shifted in the air, and Khushi was now acutely alert to the whizzes and sparks of static dissipating the dreary gloom pervading about them, like lightning slicing the heavens apart.
He was leaning towards her, his head angled a little to one side, so that if he bent another two inches forward the tip of his nose would touch down on the corner of her gaping mouth. He was eyeing her intently, with such intensity she barely caught the flicker of lashes as he blinked, if he was blinking at all - and on instinct Khushi held her breath, her own pupils dilating as she caught the thin, coppery rings of his irises, his molten caramel eyes now suddenly a sinful coffee-brown.
'What-' she stuttered again, voice devoid of strength or certainty, her blanked-out mind not altogether sure what she was intending to say.
Arnavji's hand snaked up the curve of her hip, and Khushi jerked as though touched by a live-wire when the tips of his fingers feathered over the skin left exposed at her waist.
'I don't want to leave you here,' he husked at her then, and Khushi inadvertently gasped - hich turned out to be a mistake, for with that startled swallow of air she had sucked in a heady gulp of his musky, honeyed scent, insidiously misting over her already lamentably clouded senses, ' - but I know that I have to, and I know you won't be happy if I take you away with me right now. But - ' and here he did what his posture had been threatening to do all along, sinking his face until his stormy eyes were half an inch away from her stunned ones, his nose grazing lightly over the contour of her upper lip, ' - if I have to spend any more time without you-especially after today, after this -' the forefinger of his unoccupied hand traced over the pearl of her ring, trailing up the back of her hand and up the length of her arm, gooseflesh erupting in its wake, ' - then I'm going to get what sustenance I can to get by.'
Her shallow breaths tickled his chin and shivered up his jaw, murmurs of kisses like the faint, sweet scent of summer berries in an orchard, and a groan rumbled in his thorax.
With every metre his four-wheeler covered during that too-short drive back to Laxmi Nagar, Arnav had found it increasingly difficult to ignore the twinge of disappointment panging against his ribs, morbid speculations of another sleepless, Khushi-less night to be spent with only the star-lights, disturbing thoughts entailing events he could not see happening in Lucknow, and a vast empty bed for company stumbling the healthy, ecstatic drumbeats thumping in the left side of his chest.
When Nani had dropped the bombshell of this weekend plan she had taken upon herself to make for his wife (not even bothering to consult him first), it had been a low blow, and steeped as he was in incensed displeasure, Arnav would have bitterly sworn that circumstances could not have contrived anything worse.
But he had relunctantly - and very unhappily - made his peace with the fact that he would just have to stomach a few more hours of this unfair deprivation. After all, he had to admit grudgingly, he ought to be grateful, ought to consider himself incredibly lucky for the hours he had been rewarded with to begin with. His yearning for her had grown unappeasable since the single festering misunderstanding barring his way had been toppled, but Arnav had anticipated, and almost stoically prepared himself, for an endless stretch of penance and atonement, grueling and tormenting, each penalty fitting to the extent of his sins.
Yes. He ought to be grateful, ought to consider himself lucky-
-but he had started to think that luck was no different than the two sides of a coin - flip it, and there is just as much chance that it will land against your favour as in it.
Because circumstances had once again deigned to prove him wrong and contrive a debacle even worse than the dilemma he had found himself in the night before.
For now, it was not a matter of missing Khushi's presence around him, of missing her touch and her fragrance, the chime of her voice and her laugh and her anklets, the heat of her blush -
I love you, Arnavji-I love you so, so much-
Because now, Khushi was no longer an outer entity - she was a part of him. She was carved into him. She was the passionate half of his heart, the impulsive half of his mind, the purer half of his soul.
He would be bereft without her, whether the separation numbered to measley hours, or years.
And especially now - now when his heartbeats had yet to slow from the blissful agony her murmured confession had afflicted him with, now when he still fumbled to believe that he had earned what he had wanted more than anything else -
The smouldering hunger in his chest was crippling him from within, steadily eroding away at his sense. His arm belted about Khushi's slim waist, drawing her torso toward him, her hoarse gasp music to his ears - and all he could think about were the sensations she could evoke in him without even trying, sensations which were overwhelmingly too much, and yet not enough, never enough-
'Don't want to go without you-' he mumbled again, not knowing if she could understand his garbled confessions, not even knowing he was speaking, just yielding to the pull of the moment, the demands of his thirst, his eyes drifting shut as he drifted closer...
When Khushi unceremoniously jammed her arms in between them, emitting a small shriek of alarm.
'Arnavji, yeh aap kya karr rahe hai!' Khushi squawked, pushing her limp as rubber arms against the solid, unbudging wall of his chest. The back of her neck was blazing with heat, her ears burning, with no air to speak of circulating in her tumbledown respiratory system. 'We're practically standing in the middle of a street!'
A rush of hot, musky-sweet air blasted into her face then as Arnavji exhaled shakily. Khushi clamped her windpipe tightly shut to keep herself from drinking in his drugging scent again, fisting the hands trying futilely to pry herself out of his embrace, embarrassment wounding itself up like a jack-in-box inside her, ready to spring out at any moment as panicstricken eyes alternated between darting this way and that in search of spying onlookers, and staring with anxious absorption at the convulsions dancing down his throat as he fought for breath.
But just as Khushi was halfway into convincing herself that Arnavji had seen the good sense in her words, he had slanted her face up again to meet his.
Khushi gulped, her attempts to jerk backwards hindered by the wintry smoothness of the jeep, at complete odds with the smouldering warmth everywhere else - his breath against her skin, his arm around her waist, the almost non-existent space between their bodies, charged with humid tension. The dual, conflicting sensations of hot and cold where cooking up a whirlwind in her body, nearly upsetting what little sense of decorum remained in her, so close to tripping the last fuse left in her head. She squawked again.
'Arnavji!' she hissed frantically, teeth clenched in tension, 'We are standing right outside Buaji's house! Someone could come outside and see us! Not to mention the neighbours and-'
'I think you're forgetting something,' Khushi's stomach dropped and the surviving fuse in her brain almost blew out; he was whispering in her ear, his lips perilously close to her lobe, teasing her with his open-mouthed breaths, 'You are my wife-and I can kiss you wherever I want, whenever I want to.'
You are my wife-
A feverish thrill rampaged through her body, practically melting her into a puddle on the spot.
You're my wife. I have a right to kiss you goodbye and I would have done it whether the family had been there or not...
The memory came back to her like the titillating, playful laps of the sea at low-tide, simply caressing the shore before skittering back. Had it only been such few days since he had said that to her? It seemed like eons ago, like she had stretched her arm to the back-alleys of her recollections to recount it - recount how the two of them had sat bickering within the very jeep she was now incarcerated against, silvery chains of rain barricading them into their own small alcove, Khushi flushing red and furious as she took him to task for boldly kissing her goodbye in the hospital, in front of her whole family - and Arnavji amused and playful one second, and all heated intensity the next...
They had come so far, gone through so much, in just a few days, that Khushi could not help but harbour the perhaps-fanciful notion that maybe this - him and her, them - had been fated for the start. A something that had just been waiting to happen ever since their first explosive meeting, and all their consecutive ones - whiling out its time, anticipating the right moment to break free and make itself known.
'And besides,' he continued, each note uttered by him tingling against her eardrums, brushing with a roughness that made her quake, 'you didn't seem to mind so much when you came running into my arms in the middle of the street.'
One second passed.
If no one had noticed that there were two fully grown human beings tucked in the small space between the jeep and the boundary wall of the Gupta residence, Khushi's enraged screech of 'WHAT?!' would in all probability have alerted them to that little secret.
Arnavji took a step back, whether because this time she levered all her flared-up indignation into her push or because he wanted to scrutinise her reaction to his outrageous statement she did not know.
All she did know was that she was terribly conflicted between wanting to knock the gloating smirk off his face, and shoving bodily past him into the perceived refuge her aunt's house suddenly symbolised to her.
'It's not like I did that in public!' Khushi reminded him waspishly, heedlessly aggravated by the amusement twinkling in his eyes where before they had been dangerously smoky with volatile passion. Her mind swung indecisively between righteous ire at his warping what had until then been a heartfelt, impulsive moment into a tool for repartee, and the anguished embarrassment roaring against her ears and churning in her stomach as she remembered how she had, simply put, gone 'running into his arms in the middle of the street.' As that point impressed itself in her brain, coloured by the suggestive lilt he had added to it, Khushi hastily pointed it out, 'And the street was deserted!'
The defensive retorts had barely left her mouth when she had seen the humour-tinged glimmer in his eyes give way to something that could only be described as - wicked.
With his visage deceptively free of emotion, only his open gaze putting Khushi on her wary guard, he tipped his face inquisitively towards her, casually leaning both his arms about her again, 'You mean to say you'd rather do this in private?'
'Haaawww!!!' Khushi exclaimed, her mouth curving adorably until it was a near-perfect oval, eyes widening in shock as scarlet patches blazed furiously on her cheeks, half inclined to kick the infuriating man in front of her to the next millennium while the rest of her agonised over the likelihood of having someone overhear such scandalous indictments, 'Besharam kahika! What do you think you're saying?'
Each accusation was accompanied with an irate poke to his chest which, much to her chagrin, did nothing to wipe the burgeoning grin off his face.
Once again he tipped his head towards her, and Khushi longingly looked over his shoulder, resisting the temptation to rise up on her toes and peek over the boundary walls in the hope that Jiji or Amma might come to her rescue. 'Abh isme besharmi kya hai?' he wondered rhetorically, one finger winding a flyaway strand of her hair about it as he conversationally continued, 'We're married. I can kiss you whenever I want. It's simple enough. And anyway, didn't we just kiss today standing in the street? And then again inside the car, which was also parked in the road - which, in case you've forgotten, was quite busy and-'
The rest came out as a muffled stream of unintelligible noise, because a scandalised Khushi had clamped her hand tightly over his mouth to keep his shameless nonsense in.
'Have you gone mad? What do you think you're doing? How can you be so shameless? And here I was thinking you can be such a gentleman and so courteous and sweet and thoughtful - uff! What if someone heard you? What if, Buaji, on the way out to buy rice or flour or something, heard you say that? Or if Happyji was walking by to borrow sugar heard you say that? I would never hear the end of it! Buaji would probably lock me up and condemn me to life-time imprisonment and Jiji would laugh at me for the rest of my life and -'
It was only after she had blown off considerable steam and her temperature had regained some modicum of normalcy that Khushi noticed he had not made a move to dissuade her from her rant - not once in the entire minute she had spend lecturing him.
Instead, he had simply stood there, arms still stretched out on either side of her but relaxed, silent laughter buzzing against her palm, while laughter danced in the pair of sunlit-honey eyes crinkling slightly as they looked down at her.
The almost-feral glaze to them, the unexpected rawness alarming and intimidating her, was nowhere to be found, and in their place Khushi could detect nothing but the melting tenderness which always exacerbated her dhak dhak.
And just like that, Khushi understood what he had just done, without even knowing how this realisation had culminated in her brain, or questioning its credibility when her heart embraced it so freely.
He had sensed her distress and he had diverted both their attentions.
So subtly, she might not even have noticed - were it not for his eyes.
Dual mirrors to his soul.
And as her heart swelled with a sudden surge of love for this impossible man standing in front of her, potent enough to knock her out and make her keel over, Khushi shook her head, muttering the accusation which had been awaiting its cue on the tip of her tongue, but without any of the sting she had been fuelling it with.
Anjali clicked her door shut, swiftly sliding the bolt in place, before her hurried footfalls dragged a path across the plushness of the carpet.
Nervous heartbeats thudded against her ears as she crossed over to the wide glass windows spanning almost an entire wall, the heavy fabric of beige curtains emitting a piercing hiss into the subdued silence of the room as she pulled them sharply closed.
She had told Nani that she was retiring to her room to rest. Hopefully, that would deter anyone who might come looking for her -
-and douse the suspicions of anyone finding her barricaded, all entries barred, behind the closed walls of her bedroom.
A knot of nerves thrashed within her chest, zapping at her heart with a peculiar mix of cowardice and fortitude. Apprehension trickled like cold sweat down her spine even as Anjali pottered towards the small bureau tucked into one corner of the room, the chair's legs snagging a little upon the rug as she jerked it back before lowering herself carefully on to it.
Sometimes, guilt is a greater catalyst than fear, and repentance greater motivation than security.
For the first time in days, weeks, Anjali knew what she was going to do. What she was doing.
Knew what was right. What she wanted.
Pulling open one of the desk's drawers, Anjali rummaged methodically within the contents, searching eyes lingering on each object as she withdrew it from its shelter before dismissing it, renewing her efforts. This process continued, gaining febrile speed as she worked her way through the top two drawers, desperation to find what she was looking for ravishing her from within.
And it was only after she had hoisted out a stack of large, shabby cardboard files, gritty with dust which had managed to penetrate through the woodwork, that her frantic actions slowed, her heartbeat calming down.
Her right hand reached into the drawer and pulled out the single, palm-sized notebook, bound in cheap indigo-dyed leather now peeling off in places, with the gold-embossed numbers '2006' stamped over the cover.
Quickly stuffing everything else haphazardly back into the drawers, Anjali flicked open the small book, clearly intended to be some kind of business planner, tucking back the loose strands of her hair out of her eyes as she bent over the scrawled lists of names and numbers trickling down the length of the pages.
And in spite of being isolated within the noiseless chamber of her lonely bedroom, Anjali did not feel alone.
Snippet of Chapter 47 -
The short buzz of his cell-phone punctured the still silence like a pin stabbing a balloon.
Shaken out of his catatonic state, Arnav sprang upright, the abruptness of the motion sending a few audible cracks rattling up his spine, stiff from being hunched over for long minutes on end. The fingers which had pressed against his throbbing temple felt blindly about on the cushioned surface of the deckchair, hunting unseeingly for his Blackberry, his eyes taking their time to adjust to the relative darkness of the poolside, relieved only by the reflection of moonlight slanting up from the serene azure of the pool.
Blinking slightly, the flare-up of his cell-phone's screen sharp to his unfocused stare, a loose wire thrashed in panic within Arnav's mind as it fumbled to make out the letters informing him just who it was leaving him a missed call so late into the night.
The name flashed into the darkness, bejewelled fireworks dappling the sombre, dark grey-violet of the night sky, and there was an interim of one quick draw of breath before Arnav was dialling up the number showing on his screen.
For those who feel that Arhi's banter was abruptly cut off - um don't worry there's more :P Though the romance will turn a bit more serious from playful :)
What happened to cause this change in Anji will also be revealed bit by bit in coming chapters.
And...please comment? Pretty pretty pretty please with loads of whipped cream and a cherry on top? I thrive on feedback - they're the only reason fanfic writers share their work, so I'd be immensely grateful if you let me know what you think :)
I reserve all rights over this work of fiction and request readers do not reproduce/copy/modify elsewhere and/or claim credit.
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MAANEET FF JAANE TU YA JAANE NA #10 EPILOGUE PG 40
Author: piya- Replies: 403 Views: 31941
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MAANEET FF JAANE TU YA JAANE NA #9 Link # 10 pg131
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|piya-||1047||49187||05 July 2013 at 11:37pm by mishtiritu|
MAANEET FF JAANE TU YA JAANE NA#8 LINK #9 PG 141
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MAANEET FF JAANE TU YA JAANE NA #7 Thrd8 link 158
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