Arnav & Khushi FF || Serendipity #1 || Link to Thread Two: Pg 1 - Page 38

'No Khushi. No.'

She reminded herself of the misery he had sowed into her life, the nights in the cold rain and the relentless abuse. It would all return to haunt her in just a few days time, and she'd break into pieces again. But Khushi could not sojourn the restlessness. The heat that pounded through her veins as she peered into those deep, brown eyes had returned, slowly thawing the ice that surrounded her wounded heart. It was wrong. Wrong in every sense. But as each day progressed, she grew more and more powerless against her instincts. She shut her eyes and strained to remember the smell of blood as her bangles cut into her wrist, thoughts of his small, somewhat crooked smile filling the void instead.

Khushi Kumari Gupta could never come to detest the man, for reasons indefinite and foreign. She whispered into the solitude of the night, "Learn to hate him, Khushi. It'll make the pain more bearable."

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As Khushi shuffled to get dressed the next morning, she was surprised to hear the unfamiliar chime of the room's doorbell. It surely was not Arnav. He would have battered the door and screamed for her in haste. Besides, he probably did not know her room number. She uncertainly opened the door and peeked into the hall, startled to see an attractive, young, seemingly Indian woman smiling excitedly and folding her hands in greeting.

"Namaste, Khushi ji. Mera naam Ila Tripathi hai. Aapki nanand ne hi mujhe aapke paas beja hai. Woh kya hai naa, aaj aapki aakhri raat hai New York mein, toh Anjali ji aap dono ko ek shaandar party mein bhejna chahati thi. Mein aapko teyar karne ke liye aayi hoon. Pehle toh mein honeymoon suite mein gayi thi, lekin Arnav ji ne mujhe yaha pe beja. Keh rahe the, ki unke kharato ki waje se aapko neend nahiin aathi."

As she watched Ila chuckling in merriment at the thought of Arnav's snores, Khushi tried to preserve her positivity and enthusiasm, finding it tremendously challenging. She did not want to spend her last night in New York City at a high status party. She did not pretend to understand the politics and business of the people in Arnav ji's world. She wished to spend her last day in the haven of her library or in the streets of Manhattan, not painting her nails and setting her hair. But at the thought of the countless struggles Anjali ji must have taken, Khushi pasted a smile and welcomed an eager Ila into her room.

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The charity ball was apparently to be a masquerade, held in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Khushi gulped as she saw the dress that Anjali selected for her. It was simple, but the deep cut in the back and the bold color worried her. Arnav already thought of her as a woman with loose morals. Perhaps seeing her in this daringly sensual dress would confirm his beliefs.

Immediately, she was changed into a flimsy cotton robe and prepped to get waxed, polished and scrubbed. Ila scribbled a to-do list as she examined Khushi's bitten nails and lifeless hair. She beamed to herself. Mrs. Raizada would look like royalty tonight.

She gossiped endlessly about her experiences as a part time cosmetology student, plucking at her client's overgrown eyebrows and ignoring the small yelps of pain as the tweezers relentlessly pulled. A peculiar chocolate mask had been smeared onto Khushi's face, her hands soaked in solution and her hair pinned up in rollers. Khushi had never truly understood the reason why Mami scheduled the entire day for her trips to the beauty parlor. It now made perfect sense. Apparently, being attractive was a mission in itself.

She shyly talked about her family and her love for Salman Ji as Ila worked on her body like a school project -- applying eye shadow she had never used, mascara that didn't lump and gloss that made her lips tingle. Her dress was fitted and tucked, her balance threatened by high-heeled stilettos and her hair freed from the captivity of the rollers. Ila smacked Khushi's hand as she anxiously tried to pull up the front of her dress, playfully scolding that she looked impeccably gorgeous and tastefully decent. With an exquisite and elegant gold mask placed upon Khushi's blushing face, Ila stepped back and inspected her work for final touches.

Yes, the dress was beyond lovely. Her hair looked seamless.

But what made Khushi shine so brightly tonight was not the sexy dress, but the innate innocence and purity that glowed from her essence. The way she timidly fiddled with the straps of her dress in an attempt to draw it up and they way her gaze remained focused on her newly polished, candy red toes. How she uncertainly twiddled her finger around the ends of her softly bouncing curls and how she smiled so graciously when her new friend flattered and hugged her. Khushi looked divine.

A final coat of lipstick, a few bangles and a clutch, Khushi was whisked outside the hotel room by an animated Ila, ceaselessly teasing that her Arnav Ji would be desperately waiting for this enigma downstairs.