Chapter 67

shrattila

@shrattila

Hello

A bittersweet moment. My last update. The story is over. But the memories still remain. I've taken the liberty to post the last chapter and the Epilogue back to back.

I've never written a love scene before and honestly was very uncomfortable writing this chapter. Nevertheless it had to be written. Would love honest feedback / criticism on it.

I also want to thank all of you, each and every one for staying the course. You all made it special. You all gave me wings that I desperately needed to fly. You all will always have a special place in my heart and my life. Please follow my Wattpad Id: shrattila for all future stories. Do check out my newer offering #21Days on Wattpad. Its not Arshi, but if you're open to reading something different, its out there.

Thank you, love you, peace!

64

As Khushi walked into Arnav’s room, once again, new feelings of love, anticipation, and excitement replaced the old ones of fear, helplessness, and dread. Life had come a full circle. She looked around the dimly lit room, decorated with candles and bouquets. It looked ethereal. She glanced at the bed, strings of tulip garlanding the frame, and jasmine buds generously sprinkled on its surface. A fleeting glance and she spotted Arnav, changed out of his wedding attire, clad in a simple black cotton kurta and pajama furiously typing something on his laptop. She smiled.

Arnav felt the waft of an orange and ginger flavored perfume. He knew that fragrance. It was Khushi’s. He stopped doing all his work, got up, and turned to admire his bride. She looked beautiful, every bit the fairy he’d imagined. No. He could’ve never imagined this. She took a step towards him and her anklets disturbed the peace. By the time she took another step, he was by her side.

She handed him the glass of milk which he placed on the accent table next to the door. He held Khushi by her hand and gently guided her to the bed.

Khushi perched herself at the edge of the bed, the moment charged with anticipation. Both of them refusing to speak, yet conversing through their eyes. His eyes brimming with gratitude for her effort with the wedding dress. She looked right back, with all the love and affection for having spared her parents the stress over the wedding preparations.

Arnav sat down beside her feet on the floor. He took a foot and gently began massaging it. Soft feathery strokes that slowly made their way up to her anklets. He unscrewed then ends and took it off. Khushi’s nerves began to tingle at his mere touch. She closed her eyes to savor the feeling of his touch on her bare skin. He continued to massage her feet, switching from one to the other. The same soft feathery touches and the other anklet came off as well.

He trailed his hand a little further upwards on her calf before standing on his knees and reaching behind Khushi to find the hook of her waistband. Another piece of jewelry to come off.

Khushi was a mass of sensations. Sensations she had never felt before and therefore didn’t know how to categorize. Was she feeling nervous? Perhaps. Was she feeling excited? Definitely. Was she scared? Was she anxious? She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was that a few minutes ago she had a headache and her feet ached. And when she entered the room, she had every intention of going to sleep.

The aches and pains had now disappeared and were replaced by stirrings that were completely alien to her. While she tried to process her body’s reaction to his mere touch, Arnav continued to wreak havoc. He took one of her hands into his and gently massaged her fingers, taking his time to place soft feathery kisses on each one of them as he inched upwards. Every time he kissed, one bangle came off. When the first hand was devoid of all the jewelry, he turned his focus to the other one. More feathery light kisses, gentle strokes, bangles coming off one after another.

“Arnav,” Khushi whispered. She wanted to break the spell. She wanted to come back to reality. If only words could… Her mind couldn’t even complete that thought. “Arnav,” she whispered a little more forcefully.

“Shhh…” he answered, silencing her protest. Today was their night and he was allowed to worship the woman who’d turned his life around.

His hands slowly made their way up to the ears. One heavy earring at a time, and a lick to heal the wound that piece of jewelry had caused. Khushi fisted the bedsheet and closed her eyes. Then the other ear.

He was now sitting beside her, on the bed, but all she could hear and feel was the erratic beating of her heart. Surely something was wrong.

Arnav smiled, reading the myriad sensations that flitted through the face. He bent his head forward, breathing hard down her neck, unclasping the heavy necklace that adorned it. As the necklace came away, so did he.

His hands moved to the fabric draped beautifully across her head and the jewelry that was set in her hair. Devoid of any jewelry except the mangal sutra, her hair parting smeared in vermillion, dressed in her wedding dress, Khushi personified good luck.

She stood up and he went down on one knee to bow in front of her. From now on he would honor and cherish the woman he’d married. He would put her needs before his. He would protect her honor and virtue and he would remain faithful to her and her alone.

Khushi walked forward, urged him up, and guided him to the bed, where the two sat, side by side fingers entwined.

She slowly moved her hands over his arms in a caressing gesture. The slight fabric of the kurta felt very different from the thick woven fabric of his shirts. She traced around his arms and then gently splayed it across his chest. She lifted her head and placed it near his heart. She was in heaven.

He continued his ministrations, his one hand drawing concentric circles on her bare midriff, while the other caressing the arm splayed around him while moving his feet up and down her leg.

“Arnav,” she hummed.

“Hmmm…” He was busy relishing the pleasure evident on her face. She turned to hug him completely and instead ended pushing him onto the bed, with her straddling him.

“Even better,” he chuckled as he turned her around to lay flat on the bed. He started from the head, kissing every part of her body that had been adorned, moving all the way down to her toes. He then slowly made his way up, retracing his path of worship.

As soon as he reached her face, Khushi pulled him in for a deep searing kiss, a kiss that spoke her language, that conveyed her love for this strong yet vulnerable man. A kiss that had pride, that this man was now hers, forever and ever. A kiss that shared in the victory of the journey that had ultimately brought them there.

When the kiss turned into something more, no one knew. When the clothes came off, no one knew. When the silent words of love became fervent whispers, no one knew. When the two of them slept in each other's arms, exhausted and sated, no one knew.

What they did know was that when they woke up the next day, together, on the same bed, as man and wife, they had begun another journey with each other by their side.

Epilogue

27 years later

"Chhote!"

Her scream reverberated throughout the entire Raizada mansion.

Sitting on the breakfast table Arnav smiled.

"3, 2, 1..." Khushi counted down as she placed a freshly toasted Paratha on Arnav's plate.

"Mom!" Another scream reverberated. A twenty-one-year-old boy came running down the staircase "How many times have I told Di NOT TO CALL ME CHHOTE. I am 21. My friends make fun of me. But she doesn't care."

The boy huffed as he took his place near Arnav. Khushi placed a plate in front of him and served him another of the freshly toasted parathas.

"Aarav," began Arnav. Just then they heard another scream.

"Chhote, I am going to kill you. How dare you color all over my favorite dress, that too with a permanent marker." Twenty-six-year-old Anjum shortly joined the family at the dining table.

"Care for breakfast?" Khushi asked

Anjum scowled but didn't refuse Khushi's offer.

"Mom, tell this brat. If I ever see him in my room again, I'll hide his car keys. Then he can stay at home for all I care."

Arnav and Khushi had finally bought a house in New Delhi. Their sprawling mansion was right next to Anjali and Shyam's on Barakhamba Road.

Devi Maiyya had been kind to their family. Khushi was now a managing partner for AR Designs. AR had diversified. AR Corp now had thriving companies in the finance, oil, and energy sectors. The two of them were a rare team - Arnav's hot-headedness and Khushi's cool allowed them to dominate whatever they touched. Although Khushi's focus was primarily AR Designs, she never shied away from giving Arnav suggestions about his other businesses.

Anjali headed the legal department for AR Corp. Shyam was still New Delhi's best criminal lawyer. Anya now had a baby brother - Shayan. Life was not perfect, but it was beautiful. And Khushi thanked Devi Maiyya for it every day.

Just then the doorbell rang and Anjali's son Shayan sauntered in. Older to Anjum by two years, both of them over the years had become partners in crime.

"Guess who's coming?" he asked, taking a spot on the dining table as Khushi placed a plate in front of him and served him parathas.

"Anya." A voice reverberated from the door. Anjali made her way into the Raizada Mansion and took a spot on the dining table.

"Di, will you have parathas?" Khushi questioned.

"No Khushi." But it wasn't Anjali who answered. Shyam had just walked in. He took the last vacant seat on the dining table near Anjali.

"We both will have coffee if there is any."

"I'll just let Hariprakash know to brew some."

"So, Bua, when is Anya coming?" Anjum was excited. The cousins adored their older sister who was a rare combination of sensibility and fun.

"When Anya Di comes, I'll take her for a spin in my new car."

"Chhote," said Anya. "Di is not interested in cars. She's going to be shopping with me."

Anya had married her long-time boyfriend just last year. The family missed her tremendously but the cousins missed her even more.

"Mom," pouted Aarav. "How many times do I have to tell Di not to call me Chhote. I am 21 years old. It's embarrassing."

"He's right Anjum, it's embarrassing." Arnav sided with his son.

"But Dad..."

"Yes Chhote," Anjali said glaring at Arnav for telling Anjum off.

Just then Khushi walked in with an entire pot of coffee. Placing it on the table to allow everyone to serve themselves, she walked up to Aarav and placed a small kiss on his cheek, which he immediately rubbed off, while sporting a scowl.

"Get used to it,” Khushi told him. “You're Dad's 60 and Bua still calls him Chhote. He hasn't been able to convince her otherwise. I don't think he's a very good advocate for this cause. Try your Fufaji instead. He's the only one who can convince your Bua and Anjum to drop the name altogether."

The family laughed as they passed food along, and shared in the excitement of their daughter's visit. Khushi looked up once again and thanked her parents for bringing Arnav into her life. Decades of companionship and a beautiful family that was hers in every which way. In the end, she had chosen to love, and she was glad she did.