"Hu...hullo?"
"Yes. Good morning ma'am. Arnav sir requested a wake up call for you at 7:00 AM. He asked me to pass the message that he will be waiting in the lobby by 8:00."
Just a receptionist. A sigh of relief.
"Ji. Ji.. shukriya."
Khushi had already disconnected the phone and leapt for her shower as the puzzled hotel clerk asked her to repeat herself on the dead line.
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Khushi sensed she would faint after she unfastened her suitcase. What had Payal and Anjali Di done?! She hesitantly lifted the skimpy pieces of lingerie, dropping the lace panties as though they burned through her skin. Throwing a towel over the outrageous garments, she began digging through the suitcase again, desperately trying to find her cotton underpants. She clutched her forehead as she realized there were no kurtis or salwars packed eithe... only dresses, skirts, jeans and blouses.
'Devi Maiyya, hum aaise baar kaise jayenge?'
She glanced at the clock only to realize it was already 7:50. Frightened, she grabbed whatever appeared most decent and bolted to change as quickly as possible. She couldn't disappoint him. Especially not in New York City.
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Arnav checked the time again, memorizing the diatribe he would use when Khushi arrived late in the lobby. Her nerve. To take her sweet time beautifying herself as he waited like an idiot pacing like a lovesick puppy. He had not planned to go out in the city with Khushi at all, but the strict phone call from Anjali had convinced him that she would be double-checking with the event organizers to confirm her plans were respected. He couldn't care less about Khushi enjoying her honeymoon. But his sister's contentment and reassurance mattered. So here he was, holding brochures for Central Park, Madame Tussaud's and the Statue of Liberty. He glanced at his watch again irritably. 7:58. That woman was going----
Perhaps this was what hell felt like.
The mingling of yearning and loathing. Warmth and scalding heat. Arnav almost stopped breathing as Khushi walked timidly in his direction, her anxious eyes trying to locate him in the congested crowds. Khushi was destructive. Destructively beautiful. The sweetest of poisons, so tempting, so lethal.
Her long, slender legs clad in tight denims. A pale yellow blouse covering her torso, revealing just the slightest skin to his wandering eyes. Her hair pulled into a untidy yet effortless bun, lose tendrils falling along the sides of her naturally blushing face. How he hated her. For her magnificence and desirability. For the elegance and disguised purity that could tie a man to an anchor and drown him instantly. For the hazel eyes that drew him so much closer, when he sought to stay so far away.
For disarming him.
He hated her. He hated everything about her.
"A...Arnav Ji... hum"
"Shut your mouth Khushi, and sit in the damn car"
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The day carried on unnervingly, with Khushi entirely disoriented with the complicated English at the museums and Arnav completely occupied with his cellphone. When she dared to giggle at a duplicate of Picasso's peculiar Guernica, Arnav excused themselves from the art museum immediately, dragging and pushing her onto a bench in Washington Square Park while he attended his phone calls and emails. As he busied himself sorting his contracts and deals, she slipped away from the bench and walked into the fountain with the others, drops of water escaping with the breeze to gently caress her face, her toes curling in contact with the cold, black surface. But as Arnav angrily called her to return to the bench, she did so instantaneously.
Khushi observed the saxophone player and the piano player, the dancers and the passerby students. She smiled bashfully as a young, friendly blogger approached her to take her photograph for his website. Arnav watched on, displeased as the attractive man kissed his wife's hand in gratitude, even as she declined his offering with a gentle shake of the head, her rosy blush spreading across the expanse of her neck. He quickly forced his eyes back to his phone screen before she caught him staring, his mind occupied by thoughts as to why she so strangely paled when he approached her.
She could not understand the abstract artwork or the French Operas, but she let a small smile adorn her face as she watched the dancers in the Subway and the beautiful, twinkling lights in Madison Square. She nearly clapped with glee as she heard the blonde, fair skinned Hare Krishna worshippers chanting at Union Square Park, almost stopping to ask when the aarti would start before she was pulled away by Arnav Ji.
With her husband's attention diverted elsewhere, Khushi took a moment to take in her surroundings. The tall buildings and fancy women. The garam kutte and pijjas. The hipsters wearing round glasses and smoking marijuana. 180 rupees ka chewing gum.The big trucks and noiseless cars. She surely was no longer in Delhi. And for once she wanted to abandon the weight of her misery and mingle with the bliss around her. Just for a week, while Arnav would disregard her presence, she would live enough for the rest of her life.
Within her limits of course, she could not jeopardize her safety by making him livid.
But she would live. Just a bit.
For she knew upon being imprisoned within the four walls of Shantivan once more, the sunken face reflecting in the still water of the poolside would again become her reality.
And Arnav could hate her again.
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CHAPTER NINE: H I N D S I G H T
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