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.

He ran his hand across his cheek, pulling the skin taught, feeling the bones beneath. His eyes flickered back to the computer screen and met with an identical pair. They weren’t the only twins he was confronted with. The sharp nose mirrored his own, the eyebrows followed the same lines his own traversed and the lips curved in the same ways. Only a scar under the left eyebrow reassured him the man was somebody else. Arnav Singh Raizada. A strand of long hair fell in front of his eyes, obscuring the screen. The picture showed a similarly ungroomed man but it looked purposeful: the lank hair and unshaven beard clearly a conscious choice. He looked beyond the picture at his reflection in the computer, his own unkempt hair and rough beard looked back at him defiantly, seemingly ready to retort about their lack of access to running water and blades should he even dare to question their length. The man in the picture was 36 years old to his own 28, married with 2 children and ric...

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 P art 1 HERE.

Read all my other One Shots 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 my other One Shots 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 my other One Shots 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.