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About Last Night THREAD 3**Part 27 - 37** (Page 16)

areeba_blossom IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 09 April 2010
Posts: 11118

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 6:25pm | IP Logged
A wonderful Update!!

Congratulations on the third thread though!

Loved how Khushi dealt with Shyam! Her need for him was very much intact! Really loved it! Do Update soon!

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DGill28 Senior Member

Joined: 01 July 2008
Posts: 963

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 7:26pm | IP Logged
Congrats on the new thread! I'm definitely not surprised that you've reached your 3rd thread already, but I am surprised by what is happening in your story. I honestly did not think Khushi would react the way she did and Arnav the way he did. I tend to think your story will go one way, but something completely different, realistic, and new happens. I'm so happy Khushi is putting Shyam in his place. However, what I am really happy about is that most of their misunderstandings have been cleared or that they tried to address the major ones (ex: the trust issue Arnav had with Khushi). All in all, it was a fabulous update.

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udaymanyata07 IF-Rockerz

Joined: 15 February 2012
Posts: 6588

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 8:20pm | IP Logged
ClapClapthanks...great job...amazing...ClapClap

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maryk_09 Senior Member

Joined: 17 September 2009
Posts: 252

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 8:26pm | IP Logged
Congrats on new thread!!! 

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debby_11 IF-Rockerz

Joined: 16 August 2008
Posts: 6731

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 9:00pm | IP Logged
congrats for new thread...and congrats for an awesome part..
its so damn made my day...really the part is fantastically written..
n their emotions what should i say so very well touched the heart..
seriously in love with ur writing :)
do continue soon n thanks 4 d pm :)

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rutu83 IF-Rockerz

Joined: 16 September 2011
Posts: 5664

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 9:22pm | IP Logged
wow Clap
just read the whole story over the weekend and i'm...speechless
absolutely wonderful job.  i love that you kept all of them in character right down to akash and payal's muted understanding is shown. 
ummm can i get a pm when you update please? 

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fanAR Goldie

Joined: 03 November 2011
Posts: 1463

Posted: 09 April 2012 at 11:51pm | IP Logged
edited my res on the first page :)
congrats once agian :D

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JalebiJane Goldie

Joined: 11 March 2012
Posts: 2169

Posted: 10 April 2012 at 1:17am | IP Logged

Part 28

Though far from an ideal husband, it should be mentioned that Arnav Singh Raizada had come to know and act upon his wife's preferences fairly well. He knew the way to her heart was through a jalebi. He knew her favourite colour was sunflower yellow. He knew she delighted in armfuls of churiyas. He knew her navel was an intense pleasure point. This was a good start for a man who heretofore took no notice of others' preferences; and a good start for a marriage that had yet to celebrate one month. 

What he had not yet learnt was that Khushi--like most women--responded to multiple levels of engagement. And, this approach was especially necessary at a time in a couple's life when unfortunate misunderstandings had arisen and significant revelations had been made.

He returned from his morning run to find the charming vista of his wife, dressed and ornamented, seated in front of the vanity table applying the final touches to her makeup. But, he immediately spotted a problem. She was wearing a suit. He glanced at the bed where a sunflower yellow saree lay ignored. 

It was now a firmly established habit between them that when she went for her shower, he left for his run. And just before leaving, he would select a saree for her to begin her day in. He would lay it on the edge of their bed ready for her when she emerged from the bathroom.  To dress her had become an essential daily pleasure. Yes, he admitted it--it was erotic, it was sexual--it was about possessing her. It connected her to him throughout the day even when they were apart. When he saw a stunning saree designed by his team, he immediately had it delivered to the house for Khushi. Even if he saw a saree from a rival fashion house that he felt would suit Khushi, he ordered it to be shipped to her. He had indicated to her--more than once--that he expected her to abide by his selection. 

That she had not done so this morning, irritated him.

"Yeh saree pehen ley, Khushi," he said, dropping the saree in her lap, as he brushed by her to access the wardrobe.

"I'm already dressed." She stated the obvious.

He turned to read her eyes. What was this about?

She leaned into the mirror, meticulously dabbing gloss on her lips and refused to meet his eyes.

He tried another tactic. "I can help you undress."

Something passed through her eyes which he didn't comprehend, but she stood and walked to the bathroom with the blouse and petticoat in hand. She emerged soon after and stood in front of the large mirror to drape the saree.

He moved behind her, removed the saree from her hands, dropping it on the floor and caught her by the waist, bringing her into closer contact with him. With one hand, he brushed aside her hair and kissed her temple and slid his mouth to her ear. Her eyelashes lowered and her eyes shut.

"You don't like this saree?" he asked. "Isn't this your favourite colour? Shall I select a different one for today?"

She shook her head and said softly, "no, it's beautiful." 

"Why did you wear the suit?" he asked, wanting to get to the real issue.

"I like my suits."

"I don't."

"Because they are cheap--like me?" she said, stepping away at the same time, and bent to pick the saree off the floor.

"What!" He gripped her by the shoulders bringing her to him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," she replied, her eyes lifting to flash into his.

"Don't speak to me that way, Khushi--"

"--Cheap. Isn't that what they call a woman who goes with a married man? You believed that of me. So, you believed I was cheap," she said, tears perched precariously on her eyelids. 

Her words hit him like a wave, and he briefly lost orientation of the conversation.

She took advantage of this powerless moment, twisted out of his arms and bolted out of the room in her blouse and petticoat clutching the saree in her fist.

"Khushi!" he called out and went after her.


Khushi slipped into the storeroom where Arnav stored his gardening supplies. She hurriedly draped the saree, and then went to join the family for aarti. She knew the exact moment when Arnav descended the stairs--she sensed his presence. And, she knew the exact moment that he ascended the stairs and returned to their room. She knew that her outburst must have disturbed him--as much as it had surprised her--yet, she could neither find the strength to follow him or dismiss him. She was conflicted. 

Last night when he had held her as she wept, in her heart of hearts she had forgiven him. She knew Arnav; she knew that whatever he had seen and heard on the terrace would have come as a profound blow. To discover that a much-respected brother-in-law had betrayed his much-beloved sister--this would have shattered him. And, from this hurt, he must have believed he was being logical, even rational, into forcing their marriage. Her husband was blessed with a superior dimaag--as he himself would boast--however, the danger of a strong mind, untempered by an open heart, was that his mind could convince him that wrong was right, and right was wrong. She had been at the receiving end of his dimaag decisions enough times to know this. She had comprehended all this last night.

Yet, despite that deep understanding of Arnav, this morning she had collapsed into gut-wrenching sobs on the shower floor. She had wept for a broken dream. For the degradation of knowing that the man she loved beyond anything had believed her to be so contemptible as to seduce a married man. He had believed it for not just a moment, but by her calculations, probably many days. That was the thought that tortured her mind. Somehow everything else she had been able to accept. Even, the pain she endured during the early days of their marriage, was nothing in the face of knowing that they were now one. 

She followed Payal into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. And, again she sensed his presence. He had showered but was dressed casually, not for a day at the office. He strode into the kitchen. Removed the saucepan from her hand, gripped that same hand and led her out of the kitchen. All without a single word spoken. Khushi looked back to see a bemused Payal, while at the same time trying to not trip over her saree as Arnav's long purposeful stride forced her to run to keep up. He led her right out of the front door, down the stairs, and to the carport. He opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in. Khushi knew argument was futile. The rigid set of his jaw told her that he would happily toss her in the back seat head first if she ventured to resist.

Retaining as much dignity as a woman who has just been kidnapped from her own kitchen could maintain, she climbed into the passenger seat. She waited for him to clip the seatbelt on. She knew he would. 

He did. 

Their eyes collided as he stretched the seatbelt across her torso. Hers said 'And, you say I make scenes?'. His replied 'It's not a scene when Arnav Singh Raizada does it.'


Arnav would have objected to his tactics being characterized as heavy-handed, but he felt his actions well within his rights. After all, he had warned his wife only two days ago: This is Arnav Singh Raizada in love.

He reversed the car out of the driveway, and entered the road traffic. Removing his phone from his pocket, he dialed Anjali's number.

"Di..." he said. He noted that he had Khushi's full attention. "Yeah, what you have heard is true, I have abducted her," he replied to Di's first obvious question. "Everything's fine, Di," was his reply to her second obvious question. "Khushi helped close the SenHotels deal, so today I intend to reward her. We'll be back later."

He ended the call, aware that he had done more to excite his sister's curiousity. Khushi was also looking at him with something near incredulity. 

"One more call. This one you can handle while I negotiate traffic," he said, dialing a number and pressing his phone to her ear.

She started to protest, "--who is it? what am I to say--" when the number connected and she had to quickly improvise. 

"Ah...uh...yes, Good morning, Mr. Sen. This is Khushi Raizada...yes, we wanted to call to wish you and Mrs. Sen a good flight..Thank was my pleasure. Did Mrs. Sen's new wardrobe arrive on time?...Excellent. And, she is pleased with her purchases?...Good. Please convey my regards to her. I look forward to meeting her again, very soon..."

As she spoke, Arnav listened to her with what he would privately admit as husbandly pride. She had not known whose number he had dialed, but once connected, she had known precisely what he would have wished her to say. He had often heard men in business refer to their wives as partners, and he had scoffed at that claim. In his view, a man was a man because he was self-sufficient. 

Yet, there was something of an accomplice that he had found in Khushi, that strengthened him. 

Of course, it was blatantly obvious that he neither deserved her love nor had he earned her trust--but somehow he had them both. Arnav had always noticed that most people never mind having what is too good for them. He had to now include himself in that group.


Without consulting her, Arnav ordered both aloo and gobi paranthas with the usual accompaniments. 

"I'm pleased to see that you feed your prisoners," Khushi commented, not remotely inclined to be friendly. Plus--she was starved. They were seated at a garden-side table at a business hotel no more than three minutes away from Raizada House.

The server returned immediately with tea, which she said she would pour. Arnav's eyes had not left her since they sat. It was unnerving. She needed some activity to keep herself diverted.  She prepared her husband's cup. And, gave it a good stir before placing it in front of him.

"That was unnecessary," he said.

"Kya?" She bristled to know what he was insinuating.

"Stirring. Unnecessary. My cup doesn't contain sugar," he indicated matter-of-factly.

"Oh." She prepared her own cup, added more sugar than was sensible and stirring it in with incredible energy. "How long am I to remain your prisoner?" she asked, archly.

"Prepare yourself for life imprisonment."

"Wasn't it initially six months?" she asked, to remind him of his charming marriage proposal.

"It's life now. Punishment must always fit the crime."

"And, what is my crime?" she asked taking her teacup in both hands.

He leaned back in the chair, steepled his fingers, and said, "the list is lengthy, but the top one is running away from me when we are in conversation. You know I hate that. Yet you persist--"

He censored himself, as the server returned at that moment with their breakfast.


Arnav accepted the plate she prepared for him. He would have preferred they share a plate, but perhaps that was asking too much of his prisoner. Instead he fed himself, and took much pleasure in watching her eat.  Nobody could accuse his wife of joyless eating. Nobody could accuse her of doing anything without deep joy.

She finished her breakfast, and he could not persuade her to have more. He asked the server to clear the table and bring more tea. When the server returned with a fresh pot of tea, Arnav said to him, "do not disturb us for the next half hour."

Khushi was observing him with what he sensed was apprehension. He knew what his question had to be, but it was a dangerous question, and there was in him a reluctance to hear her reply.

"Khushi, tell me in plain and simple language what I can do so you never again feel as you did this morning." There, it was said.

She met his eyes. He read in it some surprise, and then he saw her tears. He found his handkerchief before she reached for her pallu. His throat locked at the pain she was braving, and he had no choice but to turn his face away and briefly close his eyes.

"I'm making a scene," she said.

"You have my permission today," he replied.

She smiled through her tears, and he reached for her hand.

"Tell me?" he urged.

She shook her head, and said, "I understand everything you did. But--" here her voice quivered.

He stroked her hand. "But, you can't forgive me?" he asked, genuine worry permeating every pore of his body.

"That's just it. I have forgiven you," she clarified, shaking her head. "yet, I still wish..." she took his other hand and leaned towards him, "...I wish you found it impossible to believe one ugly thing about me. You have always found it remarkably easy to believe the worst of me. That hurts."

He looked at their enfolded hands and nodded. He felt her fingers tilt his chin up, and he had no choice but to let her see the tears in his eyes. 


Edited by Inked - 10 April 2012 at 8:08pm

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