Nayika Writes

Alternative version of when Arnav pays the rent for Buaji's house and then takes it back so she has 24 hours to pay the rent.   Khushi considers extreme measures to pay Buaji's rent while Arnav fixates on taking her back to Shantivan Come Home “Don’t you dare.” He’d received a call from Mohan to say Khushi had asked to be taken to a pawnbroker and had immediately made his way to the same shop. She was so stubborn, the fact that she would rather pawn some of her jewellery to a stranger than accept any money from him galled him. On his way over he had tried to think what she could possibly be pawning and the thought that she might give away her mother’s payals had quickened his pace.

Khushi’s face fell as she listened to Payal explain that they couldn’t go shopping because Arnavji was ill and Anjaliji refused to leave him behind for the day. Most of her dismay was because she had been looking forward to the now-aborted outing but there was a very small corner inside her that niggled at the thought of Arnavji being ill. She didn’t know how to ask for more details without making her sister suspicious and so she reluctantly began to say her goodbyes before Payal stopped her.

Arnav woke feeling hot and clammy. His hair was damp, and his shirt had soaked through. He rubbed at his chest with his t-shirt attempting to dry himself off in vain. He didn’t often have nightmares anymore; the comforting presence of Khushi’s leg flung over his thighs, her small hand enclosed in his own or her back pressed up against his chest usually circumventing them.

“But why would I ask him how small he is Lavanyaji? I know how tall he is.” “Chamkili, it’s my turn to train you now so you have to do exactly what I say. Next time you’re alone with ASR you need to say: ‘before we get married, I need to know how chotte you actually are.’” Lavanya was genuinely happy for Arnav and Khushi’s upcoming wedding, having moved on in her life months ago, but she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to get some amusement out of the situation. “But he’ll just say ‘what the..?’ or ‘you know I’m 6 foot Khushi’ then what?” “Then, you need to repeat ‘how chotte are you exactly?’ just like I did. Okay?” Lavanya would have never been brave enough to make a joke like that with ASR but she knew Khushi could and still have a hope of being alive the next day.

Q is for... Questions without Answers  'Do you think we did everything all wrong Khushi?' Payal stroked Khushi's back, not expecting a response. 'Maybe we shouldn't have questioned Babuji. Should we have let him mortgage the shop? Should I have married Abhishekji regardless? What do you think Khushi?' Her eyes rested on her parents, her father resting an awkward hand on his wife's head. 'Would Babuji be well do you think? Would he be able to walk and talk and smile and laugh? Would Amma be smiling instead of crying?' Khushi lifted her head slightly and looked at Payal with tearful eyes, 'Jiji, will he come?' *** Set during Khushi and Arnav's second (actual) wedding when he was delayed angsting in the street about his mom.

OS: Woh Aayenge Weary and exhausted, Arnav had no energy to argue with Payal and so he simply pushed her aside as gently as he could manage and made his way towards Khushi's room. His heart contracted when he saw her lying on the bed, looking as awful as he felt. He hadn't been home in the two days since their ill-fated wedding day. Garima and Buaji were sitting on either side of her stroking her fevered brow while she muttered to herself. 'Woh aayenge. Woh aayenge.' He rushed forward hurtling onto the bed and gathered her up in his arms, ignoring Garima and Buaji's protests and stroked her hair. 'I'm here Khushi. Look, I came. I'm sorry Khushi. Khushi look at me.' He tilted her chin up and slowly her red and puffy eyes opened. He had been prepared for anger and shock but not the fear that was so clearly evident in her eyes. She struggled in his arms, no longer looking up at him and Arnav reluctantly loosened his grip. She...

C is for... Colour Arnav smiled as he disentangled his black silk shirt from where it had caught onto an embellishment on Khushi's turquoise and pink anarkali . Di had once accused him of having a wardrobe full of black but nothing could be further from the truth now. The large wardrobe was now bursting with colour: reds, greens, yellows, purple and blues sparkled and shimmered in the light shoving and pushing for space against an ever diminishing army of black, navy blue and grey. Khushi had filled his previously grey existence with a riot of colours, making every day more beautiful than the last.

B is for... Bikini 'Arnavji, what is this ?' Khushi held up the offending item between her thumb and forefinger. 'It's a bikini Khushi,' Arnav replied without looking up from his book. 'For the beach.' 'You want me to wear this? In public? Hai Devi Maiyya, I might as well go out in my underwear!' Arnav rolled his eyes; immune to Khushi's dramatics after almost a year of marriage. 'You want me to wear this... thing in front of other people, other men? No, I refuse!' Khushi threw the bikini at Arnav and began to storm out but was caught before she reached the door and spun back into his arms. 'Whoa! Who said anything about other men? Nobody is going to be looking at my wife in her underwear... I mean in a bikini! I booked a private beach, Khushi. Just you... and me.' 'Oh... I see. Well that's... I guess that's... okay then.'

Read the rest of this series over here. Please note I retain sole ownership of all the works of fiction on this blog so please do not reproduce or alter my work and claim it as your own.  

Read all previous parts of this FF over here. Please note I retain sole ownership of all these works of fiction on this blog so please do not reproduce or alter my work and claim it as your own.

Read the rest of this series over here. Please note I retain sole ownership of all the works of fiction on this blog so please do not reproduce or alter my work and claim it as your own.