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Khushi stared into the bright flames, the chanting of the pandit fading to the back of her mind. His voice seemed like an endless drone, the hypnotizing, lilting rhythm of the Sanskrit floating over her. She could feel the heat of the flames through the heavy fabric of her lehenga, the fire crackling and sputtering, sending little sparks everywhere.
She suddenly felt a burning, insidious warmth as her hand was cupped and lifted gently, the grains of puffed rice placed in her palm. It was as if the sparks of the fire were coursing through her, her hand sensitive to every minuscule shift of the fingers beneath hers, the way they lifted her up, tilting her palm until the grains scattered into the flames.
Her heartbeat quickened, and she desperately searched for the guilt that had been so painful just moments before. Instead it was replaced by a strange, odd sense of anticipation, her body attuned to the man sitting beside her, his gaze locked straight ahead.
This is for Ma and Papa, for NK.
This is for Ma and Pa-
The words slipped from her mind when his hand slid beneath hers again. She clung to the refrain, trying to remind herself of her purpose. This anticipation felt wrong, and she didn't want to admit that the familiar warmth was so welcome, her body craving for him.
She couldn't forget why she was marrying him, she couldn't let him...
The reasons seemed hollower as she repeated them, her mind laughing scornfully.
She hated how she couldn't tame the thrilling burst whenever he touched her, her heart lurching and pounding in her chest.
He shifted slightly in his spot, and she couldn't help the flicker of disappointment when he remained frustratingly far from her, the centimeter between them seeming like miles.
No! She shouldn't be thinking this way. He had manipulated her into marrying him, backed her into a corner until she couldn't say no.
But at this moment, it didn't seem to matter.
She warred against herself, trying to convince her heart that what it wanted was wrong.
She stared into the flames. They seemed to draw closer and closer, threatening to burn her, tempting her with the mesmerizing, dancing orange streaked with blue.
She knew she should resist temptation.
But she found that she didn't want to.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unable to stop the glow that spread through her. She knew reality would shatter this later, but she didn't care, pushing it out of her mind.
She snuck a glance at him, her breath catching when she saw.
He was looking at her.
He watched her out of the corner of his eyes, staring at the woman by his side. He had caught her quick glance, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lips as she hastily looked away.
His eyes traced over her face, lingering on the tip of her nose, the gentle bow of her lips. He couldn't stop the pool of desire that curled in his stomach, the faint flush on her cheeks making him long to see whether it spread further down.
She looked up at him, a slight reproach in her eyes. He looked at her, confused, before hearing the pandit call his name.
Embarrassed, he moved to repeat the words that the pandit had recited, stumbling over them. He could hear the snickers of amusement behind him and felt the heat spreading over his cheeks.
He felt Anjali come up behind them, and turned around to see a mischievous smile on her face as she bent down, grasping the ends of their clothing. She lifted them up dramatically and tied it in a swift knot, before glancing between the two of them, a glint in her eyes.
She paused, and then tied it again, pulling hard on the ends. Khushi's mouth parted in shock, and she winked, grinning as she leaned in towards Arnav.
"I tied it tightly, Bhai. You can't run away... although, judging by the dazed look on your face, I don't think you want to."
Anjali laughed as she stepped back, murmuring something softly in Khushi's ear that made her flush deeply, a shy smile playing on her lips. He glanced at her, his heart pounding at the glimpse of happiness on her face.
"Bhai! Stop staring at her and hold her hand!"
He jumped, startled out of his reverie by an amused hiss from Anjali. He shot her a half hearted glare, glancing at Khushi. His heart jumped at the sight of her darkening cheeks, her eyes downcast. He slid his fingers between Khushi's. His body reveled in her touch, the firm grip of her fingers around his.
He placed one foot in front of another as they circled the fire, the chanting of the pandit echoing against the cool marble of the temple. He had studied Sanskrit in school, the meaning of each phere not lost on him.
He stepped in front of the pandit for the seventh time. The very last phere, the one that encompassed all of their promises into one.
Om sakhi jaradastayahga
You have become mine, and I offer my life to you. Our marriage will be forever.
Her soft voice melded with the end of his words as she repeated after the pandit, staring into the flames.
Attramshe sakshino vadet pade
We will be truthful to each other. We will love each other, forever.
He looked down, unable to keep himself from looking at her.
He hadn't expected her to be looking back.
The surroundings seemed to fade away, the air thickening as they looked at each other, heavy with unsaid words. The broken promises of the past, the manipulation and the hurt ceased to matter in that moment.
All that mattered was them.
The urging of the pandit broke the spell and they stood up slowly, taking the final circle. Their hands seemed to clasp the other's more tightly this time, filling the cracks between their fingers until not even a sliver of light could make its way through.
They came to stand in front of the pandit once more, and he handed Arnav the string of black beads with glittering diamonds. Arnav loathed to leave her hand and let go slowly, taking the necklace from him.
His fingers fumbled as he tried to knot it, trying to avoid brushing her skin.
This had to be a special form of torture.
He was close enough that he could hear the quickening of her breath. She held herself nervously as his fingers fumbled the clasp. She was as aware of his movements as he was hers, jumping at the warmth emanating from his fingers that hovered above the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
His scent swept over her as he moved closer, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close to him. Her heart raced, time ticking by painfully slowly as his warm breath caressed her forehead.
He let it rest, relieved that he had finally put it on. He stepped back, his fingers accidentally brushing against the warm, soft skin, a sharp pang shooting through him at the contact. He heard her gasp and held back a groan, turning away hastily as his hand dropped to his side.
His eyes met hers, and he realized that she wasn't as immune as she was pretending to be. Her eyes swirled with desire, and he was captivated, his fingers itching to sweep her into his arms and carry her away.
He saw her squeeze her eyes together tightly, frustration evident in her expression. She murmured something else underneath her breath, but he didn't hear it, distracted by the shimmering golden pot filled with red powder offered to him.
He stared at it for a moment, the jewels adorning the pot gleaming in the light of the fire. He turned his eyes to Khushi, her hands twisting in nervous anticipation.
He reached into the pot, pinching the powder with his thumb and pointer. It stained his fingers as he lifted it to the parting of her hair, right where the maang tikka lay. His hand hovered above it as he reached up with his other hand, gently moving it out of the way.
He glanced down at her. She seemed to be holding her breath, her eyes wide as she stared up at him, the hazel orbs drawing him in. He could see the implicit trust in her eyes, the glimmer of nervous expectation that made his heart thud in his chest.
Even after all that had happened...
He moved forward swiftly, the realization giving him hope. The powder stained her maang a deep red and a flood of satisfaction swept through him as he looked down at her. He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips at the wonder in her eyes, the realization that she was his, and he was hers.
A streak of possessiveness shot through him, and he slipped his hand into hers, holding her close. She didn't resist, leaning into his touch.
They were married.
No one could take them away from each other.
There was a long, poignant pause as they stared at each other, coming to terms with this new feeling that seemed so familiar. Their gazes held, the air swirling with emotion.
She lifted a hand to her chest, touching the cool metal of the mangal sutra. She drew in a breath as her heart pounded against her hand. Her eyes searched his face, looking to see if he heard the same. He could feel the pound of his heart across every inch of him, perfectly in tune with hers.
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His gaze left hers to see the streaks of powder on her nose and he reached forward, brushing them off. She jumped at his touch, a small scowl curving her lips as she lifted her own, decorated hand, brushing away the remnants.
A discreet clearing of a throat brought them back to reality, and they turned around to find their parents, a faint sheen of tears in their eyes. Arnav and Khushi stepped forward together, bending down to touch the feet of the two people that had tied them together.
"Bhagwan aap dono ko hamesha khush rakhke."
They heard the fond, soft voice of their mother and looked up as she pulled them into a hug. Arnav felt her tears against his sherwani and pulled back, shaking his head as he wiped away the tears.
"Bas... something went into my eyes..."
Her voice cracked as she spoke, giving them a watery chuckle. Ashok grasped her arm gently, and she looked up at him, a smile breaking out over her face at his nod.
Arnav and Khushi understood the glance their parents shared, awareness creeping through them. They looked at each other, remembering the moment they had witnessed in Anjali's wedding, a moment that suddenly seemed to make sense.
Khushi shot her a glare, rolling her eyes at the term. Anjali merely laughed, wrapping her arms around her best friend and pulling her into a hug. Arnav heard her whisper congratulations, and stepped back, allowing the two to have their moment.
He stumbled into Aman, who gave him a congratulatory thump on the back, reaching out to shake his hand.
He gave it a firm shake, before leaning in closer, a warning in his eyes.
"She's like a sister to me, Arnav. Take care of her, or..."
Arnav nodded, his gaze shifting to Khushi. Aman could see the way Arnav's eyes softened as he looked at his wife, the hard lines of his face seeming to become drawn with pencil, smudged slightly. He stepped back, understanding the silent cue.
Arnav lingered back as everyone else began to make their way towards the house, waiting for his father. He grasped his arm as the older man wheezed, slowly making their way down the stairs.
"You should be with your beautiful new wife, not your aging father."
Arnav smiled at the wry remark, but didn't budge, helping him down the staircase. Ashok grabbed his arm as they reached the bottom, pulling him to a stop. He fixed Arnav with a sharp gaze, one that hadn't lost its strength despite his ailing health.
"I'm almost 70, Arnav. I'm not naive enough to believe that there isn't more to this marriage."
He paused, his voice holding a note of warning as he continued.
"Shashi entrusted me to keep Khushi as a daughter, and that means I must look out for her just as I do for you."
Ashok paused again, choosing his words carefully.
"You are my son. I trust you more than I trust myself. I'm trusting you to make Khushi your priority, and always keep her happy."
Ashok's voice dropped slightly as he reached out his hand, placing it on Arnav's shoulder.
"And I want you to be happy as well."
There was a long moment as the father and son regarded each other, the words lingering in the air.
Ashok began to walk, not waiting for a confirmation.
"I won't, Papa. I promise."
His voice was barely a whisper, but it held a determination and finality that made Ashok's heart swell with pride. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he turned around, offering Arnav his arm.
"Didn't I tell you that you should be with your lovely new wife, and not your aging father?"
Khushi sat on the plush bed, staring at her intricately covered hands. She traced the pattern with her gaze, lingering on the gentle swoop of the A', right below her pinky. She reached out a finger, going over the lines with a feather light touch, shivering as it touched the A', her mind imagining the calloused digits brushing against her skin.
"You have mehendi on your hands."
"It's Anju's wedding. I'm sure, you must have noticed Anju's hands as well?"
He had looked up at her with the arch of an eyebrow, shaking his head. She could see traces of disbelief in his eyes and felt the need to explain it, annoyed by his disdain for traditions.
"It is a tradition, for the bride and her friends to have their palms covered in mehendi. The darker the bride's mehendi, the more the groom is said to love her."
There had been a wistful smile on her face as she looked down at her palm. There was a brief pause before Arnav had reached forward and taken her hands in his, causing her to drop the shovel she was holding. She had looked around, her gaze darting around.
"And... what is this about a name?"
His voice was low and husky, his fingers just barely touching her skin.
"A- a n-name?"
Khushi had found herself stumbling over words as his calloused fingers lightly traced the design, seemingly oblivious to the havoc he was wreaking on her senses.
"Yes, a name. The bride gets the groom's name in her hand, doesn't she?"
"Yes, she does, and he's supposed to find it on the suha-"
She had broken off immediately, trying to pull her hands out of his grasp. There was a rare, playful glint in his eyes as he held them tighter, his fingers languidly running over the dark color, torturing her.
"Suha? What is... that?"
She had stammered, trying desperately to keep the color from flooding her cheeks, before seeing the amusement in his eyes. Annoyed, she had wrenched his hands out of his grasp,
"Arnavji, I really must be getting inside. Ma must- must need me. For... for something."
She had fled, but not before she had heard the parting murmur that she still wasn't sure if she was meant to hear.
"The A' is right below your pinky."
And that was where it was now, she mused, staring at the terribly hidden letter. She felt a burst of nostalgia as she recalled the stolen moments they had shared before Anju's wedding, when everything had seemed so... beautiful.
A beautiful mirage that had been shattered.
Her breath caught as she recalled the words she had said before the final phere, her gaze drawn to him. She hadn't been able to look away at the glimpse of the emotion in his eyes, one she had thought she had lost forever.
She wasn't immune to the way he had stared at her throughout the ceremony.
Far from it, she thought scornfully, a wry smirk twisting her lips.
But she had convinced herself it was mere desire, desire that hadn't faded in their time apart.
Until that moment.
She closed her eyes, the Sanskrit words echoing in her mind, her stomach curling at the dark, caramel gaze that had pinned her to the spot.
That emotion, the one she hadn't been willing to name, had lingered in his eyes long after the ceremonies were over. He had swept her up into his arms before she could protest, carrying her over the doorstep after she had kicked the pot of rice, ignoring the admonishing laughter from their family.
He hadn't looked away from her as he had carried her away, telling them the rest of the traditions could wait for later.
They had pulled him away after he had placed her on the bed, with Anjali pulling her to another room so they could decorate and Arnav being tugged in another direction by an amused Aman.
She had seen him briefly since when he had come into their room. His eyes had swirled with raw emotion as they rested on her, the air thickening with new promises. She hadn't been able to stop it from mirroring in her, the warm, delightful feelings spreading through her.
He had just taken a step forward towards her when he had been interrupted by Anjali, carrying a glass of badam milk. She had never been more irritated with her, and just as Anjali had finally been about to leave, Aman had entered, carrying a letter for Arnav.
His gaze had darkened and he had swept out of the room, giving her a small nod.
She ignored the warning in her mind, focusing on the first spark of happiness she had felt in weeks. The look in his eyes had given her hope, unfurling itself against all her defenses, the small glimmer making her think that maybe... they could make this work.
After all, they were tied together... forever.
She stiffened at the faint sound of voices, hearing the familiar deep, husky rumble. Her heart thudded in anticipation, her fingers clutching the bedsheets, squeezing the rose petals in her hand.
"Arnav, it's your wedding night! You can't possibly respond to this right now-"
"It's from England, Anjali."
There had been a long, heavy silence. The anticipation in Khushi's stomach had faded quickly, replaced by a spiraling feeling of dread, her throat tight as she listened.
"You cannot be serious."
There was another pause before Arnav responded.
"I love England, and this job opportunity is simply too much to give up."
"So you'll just... leave? What of Khushi, Arnav?"
Her voice had grown shrill, furious. Khushi's heart stopped as she waited for his answer, desperately hoping that he wouldn't say what her mind told her he would.
"What of her?"
"She's your wife!"
"And so she'll come with me."
"You know she won't do that. She hates them, and you know it."
She heard his voice, hard and unrelenting,
"Khushi agreed to marry me, and this is part of it. She will."
Khushi's veins turned to ice, Anjali's protests fading from her mind as his voice echoed in her head endlessly. Her stomach churned as hot, angry tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She crumpled the sheets between her fingers, squeezing until her knuckles turned white with pain.
She couldn't believe this.
And she had thought...
She shook her head, a sob escaping her lips. She wiped roughly at the tears, her heart aching with pain as the knives twisted in her gut, reminding her of her folly. The memories of the past were forgotten, a red haze filling her, anger burning in the pit of her stomach.
She sat up straight, setting her jaw tightly as she stared out at the shimmering waters of the pool.
She wouldn't let him do this.
She was Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada now, wasn't she?
A bitter laugh escaped her as determination flooded through her, and she lifted her chin, staring directly into her reflection in the windows.
She heard the approaching footsteps and turned around as the door clicked, letting in light. Her husband's shadow stood in the doorway, towering over her as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
She took him in, his tall figure in a sherwani, his sharp jaw shadowed by stubble. She felt the familiar pang of desire as she stared at him, dragging her gaze up to his eyes. He looked exhausted, his hair slightly disheveled, a tired smile on his face.
She stepped towards him, standing up from the bed, her mind occupied with his state. He took a step towards her, reaching for her.
She stiffened immediately at the sound of her name on his lips, his sharp voice echoing in her mind.
"Khushi agreed to marry me, and this is part of it. She will."
Her veins filled with rage and she took a step back, willing herself to keep the tears from falling. She saw a bewildered expression flash across Arnav's face as he stepped forward again, reaching for her.
She didn't realize she had said that out loud until his mouth fell open in shock, his hands dropping to his sides.
She said more forcefully, the tears stinging her eyes. She quashed the sliver of hope that threatened to come out at the worry in his eyes, forcing herself to ignore it.
She wouldn't believe him again.
"Khushi? What the hell happened? I thought we could talk-"
"I don't want to talk to you, Mr. Raizada!"
Arnav flinched at the use of his surname, recognizing the bitter anger from when he had confronted her in jail.
He thought today had changed things. He had seen it in her eyes, seen the hope, the emotion he thought he had lost forever... hadn't he?
"Khushi? Khushi, what happened?"
He tried again, trying to understand what had changed in the last hour he had been gone. He knew he had seen it in her earlier, the shy blush that filled her face as he had swept her up into his arms, the implicit trust when he had filled her maang.
He had felt it.
His gaze went to her forehead, relief sweeping through him as he saw the stain of red. He looked back down at her, stunned by the mistrust in her eyes, the anger that was directed at... him.
"How dare you show up here today, "
She hissed, shoving him hard. He stumbled back, his head pounding as he tried to figure out what had gone so wrong, so quickly. He could see the tears in her eyes, the reddened rims.
She had been crying.
"We got married today! Married. You said those mantras, didn't you?"
"I did, but Khushi, what-"
"Then why are you going to England?"
There was a pause as Arnav drew in a sharp breath, stunned.
"So that's what this is about?"
"That's what this has always been about, hasn't it?"
She shook her head, scoffing.
"You weren't even going to ask me, were you? You just expected I would come with you, just as you did weeks ago, only now, I'm your wife."
"Khushi, we're married. I'm thinking about the best for both of us. After what happened, I thought you would have realized that this country is unstable, and your ridiculous movement will never succeed."
"And I thought you would have realized that how much my ridiculous movement and this country mean to me, but you're still the same selfish bas***d you always were."
She spit, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Arnav stiffened, his eyes hardening. He took a step forward, anger boiling beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to respond but she held up her hand, her eyes streaked with a dark red that matched her lehenga and the sindoor in her hair, an irony that wasn't lost on him.
"You said those mantras. And I..."
She stopped, closing her eyes as her head leaned back, tears squeezing out from underneath her lashes.
"I believed that you..."
Her voice broke, barely a whisper in the tense room.
He stared at her, unable to look away from the anguish in her face. His stomach twisted painfully, his heart clenching at the pain on her face, shattering into a million little pieces.
She opened her eyes, a steely determination hardening the pools of hazel as a bitter smile curved her lips. She whirled around, pulling out the drawer from underneath the bed as she grabbed blankets and a pillow, piling them into her hands.
Dread settled in his stomach as he watched her, slowly realizing what she was going to do. Anger sparked in his veins, and he strode forward, grasping her wrist.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He snarled, his eyes dark with fury. She wrenched her hand out of his grasp without sparing him a second glance, incensing him further as she turned around, her hand on the doorknob.
"You will not sleep out by the poolside."
"What will you do? Force me to sleep next to you?"
She said mockingly. The pillows and blankets in her hand dwarfed her, but she stood tall, meeting his gaze defiantly.
"You are my wife, damnit!"
He hissed, striding up to her. His body pinned her against the glass door, his eyes smoldering as he came close, much too close. She could smell the familiar scent that was distinctly him, making her head spin and her traitorous heart race.
The air thickened as he looked down at her, the desire that had been slowly curling in him all day becoming a raging inferno, his eyes roving over her. Her body was so close to his, her lips temptingly parted, her cheeks flushed as she breathed heavily.
He reached out, unable to keep from touching her, his hand hovering over her cheek. She turned to him sharply, wide hazel eyes meeting caramel.
He saw the desire reflected in her gaze, and he brought his hand downward, keeping it millimeters from her skin. She trembled, closing her eyes tightly, her breathing labored.
Her eyes snapped open at his voice, a low, husky rumble. The ache in the pit of her stomach intensified, consuming her until she was dizzy with need.
He was so close, she could just...
The protest came loud and clear, and she pushed him away, making him stumble back. She heard his low growl of frustration as he caught her wrist, stilling her.
"I will not sleep next to you tonight."
Her voice was a whisper, but his fingers loosened on her wrist, allowing her to pull it free. She fought the pang of disappointment, squishing it down as she swung open the door and stalked out, trying desperately to keep from looking back at the caramel gaze that refused to leave her.
Khushi froze when she heard the faint words, wondering if she had imagined them but knowing she had not.
"You will sleep next to me. We will not just share a bed, but a life, and I'll wait...forever, if I have to."
Note: And that's where I'll leave you for today! I hope you enjoyed their wedding, and I'm sorry if I made mistakes in the ceremonies. I tried to be as accurate as possible.
Please, let me know what you think with a like or a comment. It encourages me to write! I love to hear your thoughts.
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Choti, what a beautifully moving Shaadi. The vows, both chanted and silent, not mere words for the two of them. The incendiary attraction between them so well written my love. Every touch, every side long glance you described left me gasping. I loved how you showed them shedding all the baggage in that moment and zoning in on the most important aspect of a marriage - the promise of forever, for each other, with each other. And it all culminating in a "hamari dhadkanein ek ho jaaati hain". Very very very well done!
Kya Choti you made me cry. Ashok and Arnav's conversation was so emotional. I loved how he stayed to help his father, I loved how Ashok is so balanced in his desire to want both his children to be happy.
But how ephemeral was Khushi's joy. All shattered with the rustle of a piece of paper. The searching of his initial in her mehendi remaining but a memory of a time gone by. At least you leave us with some hope with Arnav's whispered words. He has his work cutout though. His Khushi is a strong determined woman!
Yet another brilliant update my love.
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