ARSHI SS | Of Chai, Fights and Lonely Nights (Chapter 3 POSTED 12/23) - Page 3

The library was a remnant of the Victorian age that sat self-importantly on top of a hill. When she had first pushed its heavy swing doors and walked into the area, she hated it. She missed the comfort of her room in Lucknow, its warmth and its ability to make her concentrate despite the endless honks and chatter.. All that was heard from this space were the faint chirps of birds outside, the scurrying feet of invisible rodents and the rustling of papers catching a draft, but it was enough to tick her off. Nonetheless, Khushi had dusted off the spider webs that wove loosely around the books and cleaned the dirtied shelves to reveal row after row of neatly lined up books. By the end of the month, she had made it her new home.

All had been going well in her new university, except for that rakshas Raizada. He strutted around as if a large stick had been thoroughly stuffed up his ass; his facial expressions revealed the same. He glared at passerbys who he deemed were unworthy of setting set foot within a three-feet radius near him and had an air of arrogance that she thought was too presumptuous. Naturally, she avoided him.

A few days into the school year, she was in the library, sitting in a desolate corner working on an essay. She heard someone sit down next to her, but she didn't bother looking up. After all, the most amazing thesis had come to her mind and she--

"Hello."

Had lost it. Irritably, she glanced over, a pen poised on her hand if the idea returned. Her eyes widened as she saw who it was. "You?"

"Khushi, is it?" He asked as if he had forgotten the incident a few days back.

She returned flatly. "Impressive, you know my name. Do you plan on telling me the color of my eyes next?"

Ignoring her cross use of sarcasm, he leaned forward. "What are you working on?"

"None of your business." Ah, wait! It was coming back. She began to write down the words before they began fleeing her mind once more.

Tagore's Gitanjali exemplifies how--

Suddenly, she frowned and paused, putting down her pen and rummaging through her bag until she pulled out a bright pink eraser. She then proceeded to erase a good part of the sentence, after which she picked up the paper, and dusted it off.

"Homework? You're doing homework? This assignment isn't due in two weeks."

"How do you know?"

"I'm the teaching assistant for the class."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe in procrastination. Sobbing the night before the assignment will hardly produce a quality paper."

"Come on." She nearly jumped. Perhaps she had given so much attention to her vigorous scrubbing that she didn't see him move, but now, he was right by her ear, his hand resting on her shoulder. That was a big no-no. "Live a little. Be dangerous and put it off for tomorrow."

She heard the subtle mocking underneath, increasing her urge to kick him where he deserved it. So she did, or at least, tried to but when she stood up, her head came into straight contact with his nose. He let out a brilliant squeal, rivaling Sheetal Malhotra's shrill laugh. "Yahan se jao and find another bimbo to hang out with Raizada."

He narrowed his eyes before giving a dramatic huff and spinning on his heels (which naturally didn't go well and led him to topple in the floor. This ruckus instigated a lecture from the librarian, Mr. Pandey, about respect in the library.

She smiled as she watched him leave, already taking a liking for the batty old librarian.

*****

By the end of the month, Arnav Singh Raizada came to three conclusions regarding Khushi Kumari Gupta.

1. She was undeniably intelligent.

He had learned from Akash that she had moved from Lucknow and gained admissions to Northeastern with a full-tuition scholarship. As much as it annoyed him to admit it, he was impressed and the incident at the library further solidified his respect. Northeastern was a condominium of trust-fund babies who worked 20% of the time and partied 80%, and it wasn't everyday he saw someone labor on a Saturday night instead of going to a some hot-shot new club.

2. She was immune to his charms.

After the verbal fight that had been instigated on the first day of class, Arnav was determined to make her respect him or at least, make her fall under his charms. When he found her at the library, it had been the perfect opportunity to work out some of the tricks under his sleeve. He even pulled the famous whisper in the ear trick, but she responded unaffectedly and snapped at him, destroying his nose in the process.

3.She irritated him to his core.

Her presence seemed to buzz around him like a fly that he could never swat. Every word, movement and breath she performed infuriated him to no end. Even as a second year, she took three of the same classes as him (cementing point one), but they disagreed on most things---from painting techniques to Hemingway's prose. Every comment he made made her scrunch her eyebrows and raise her hand in a counter attack. By the time they both left class, sparks had flown and his list of why she irritated him expanded.

"Are you sure that you left it in his car?" Her sister asked for the hundredth time. "And stop pacing. That won't help anyone."

Khushi paused. "Yes, I'm sure jiji. I had it in my hand when I saw him and I didn't have it when I got off."

Payal sighed, shaking her head at her younger sister's antics. "Well, call him."

"Right now?" Khushi's eyes darted to the clock. "It's twelve thirty in the morning.

"If he picks up, then you know it's in his car. If he doesn't, it fell outside when you decided to walk home in the rain."

"Are you sure?"

"Since when do you care about Arnav Singh Raizada's comfort?"

She paused. That was true, she didn't care before and she couldn't make an effort now. "Fine, pass me your phone."

She dialed her number on the screen and waited, tapping her foot against the floor. One ring...two rings. "Jiji, he's not picking up." Third ring.

"So you finally called," Khushi could hear him smirking through the phone."

"Raizada," she gritted her teeth. "I left my phone in your car."

"Evidently. Tell me, why do you think it's okay to call people at one in the morning?

"It's twelve thirty," she corrected.

"My bad," he returned sarcastically. "Twelve-thirty."

"You were obviously awake."

"I could've been sleeping."

"But you were up."

"Your phone call could've woken me up."

"You answered on the third ring so you had it near you and your voice doesn't sound sleepy."

"I'm saying that your phone call at such an inconvenient time could've disrupted my sleep."

"Oh my bad," she seethed. "Does his royal highness need his beauty sleep? And what does it say about you if you picked up your calls at one in the morning?"

"Twelve-thirty in the morning."

"Ah," she let out an annoyed groan. "I don't have time for this. Raizada, I need my phone back."

"Okay."

"Well, where can I pick it up from? Text me your address to this number."

"Come at ten tomorrow."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good."

"Hang up the phone."

"No you."

"God you're despicable."

"You're not any better, Khushi-"

Payal let out an exasperated sigh before she grabbed her phone and cut the line. "Tu pura pagal hai. Why are you fighting with the man who has your phone?"

"But jiji--"

"I don't care. Soh ja meri maa," she let out a yawn. "I'm so tired.

"I-" As she began, she watched the phone screen glow slightly.

Khushi's eyebrows knotted into a prominent frown. "He's so immature," she grumbled.

"Arre, how many times did I tell you I want to sleep?" Payal threw a pillow at her. "I'm stuck with a bunch of pagals in this house."

"I'm coming." She threw one last glower before saving the number. Rakshas- 917-500-3849.

Shantivan was one of those places that she saw in movie--- a mansion with ridiculously large staircases encased in a red carpet, a golden, chandelier and intricate furniture that she would have to sell a kidney to afford. She stood outside its front doors and analyzed it with a scrutinizing gaze. Ivy and ferns gew through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which led directly to the colossal structure. The marble mansion loomed proudly behind iron gates, flanked by rows of trees crowned in green, swaying gently with the wind. She knew he was rich (it was hard to miss), but she didn't know how rich. Arnav Singh Raizada had certainly done well for himself. Very well indeed.

She bit her lip as she exhaled and pressed the buzzer attached to the door. It didn't take long for the housekeeper to open the door with a beaming smile.

"Namaste," she mumbled as she stepped inside, expecting herself to be attacked by gold. "I'm here to pick up my phone."

He nodded. "I'll get it right away."

As she watched his retreating figure near the stairs, Khushi peeked at her surroundings. His living room was a mixture of soft blues and creams, creating warmth while the rest of the house was dotted with a similar color palette of neutral colors and hints of greenery. Large canvases of abstract paintings, with bold aqua brush stroke and others with subtle of beige, adorned the wall opposite her. She had never understood art; perhaps she was a simpleton, but all she had ever seen when she looked at art was the obvious, no deep hidden meanings. Nonetheless, she still appreciated it.

She sighed. Raizada surprisingly had a clean, sophisticated taste.

"Khushi Kumari Gupta," he interrupted her thoughts as he jogged down the stairs. "You're forgetful and not punctual."

She frowned. "It's 9:30."

"And I said ten," he responded as he neared her.

"Is that really an inconvenience Raizada?" she questioned as she spotted the device in his right hand. "Give me my phone back."

He pursed his lips. "Say the magic word."

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you, ten years old?"

"I still have your phone," he reminded her.

"I'm not saying it."

"That's too bad."

"Give me my phone."

He responded with a smirk.

"I swear to--"

"Chottey!" Their heads snapped at the owner of the voice. The last time she had seen Anjali Singh Raizada was at her younger brother's graduation, but she still retained the charm. Her kind eyes shined with anger as she limped towards them, decked up in a silk saree and simple jewelery.

"Is that how you treat your guests?" Anjali frowned.

"Di-"

"I won't tolerate that kind of behavior," she chastised him further before turning towards Khushi. "I'm so sorry for his behavior. My brother," she shot him another glower. "Seems to have forgotten how to treat his guests. You must be Khushi"

She gaped at her. "How do you know my name?"

Anjali let out a twinkling laugh. "I saw you at his graduation. Chottey used to talk about you all the time, you know?"

Khushi threw a confused glance at Arnav who remained rooted in his spot, a faint red covering his neck as he looked at everywhere but her.

"It's...it's nice to meet you, Anjaliji," she said after a while. "I just came to get my phone back."

She nodded. "Thank you so much for saving him yesterday. He drives so rashly, look at what happened to his forehead."

A prominent bandage covered the area right above his brow and for some insane reason, Khushi wanted to lean forward and touch it and blow on it and fix it. She shook her head; it was the lack of breakfast that was making her think such dangerous thoughts.

"Um yeah," she trailed awkwardly. "He should. Raiz...Arnav, can I have my phone?"

His head snapped up. He complied silently, his fingers brushing gently against her palm as he dropped the device into her hands. "Thank you...I'll be going now."

"Nonsense, you should have breakfast with us."

"I already ate, shukriya," Khushi lied. "I really should go. My work starts in about an hour."

"Where do you work?"

"The Times of India."

"Perfect," Anjali clapped her hands and let out a giggle. "Chottey can drop you off. It's on the way to his office."

"It's really not necessary--"

"It's the least he can do. Right chottey?"

"Di, if she doesn't want to go-"

"You're not uncomfortable, are you Khushiji?"

"No, it's not that-"

"Perfect. Chottey, you're dropping her off."

Khushi groaned, What did she get herself into?

Author's Note:

Please let me know what you think of this new chapter. I'm trying to make Anjali a bit stricter than she was in the show or in other stories. I never loved how she let Arnav treat Khushi like utter crap and never chastised him simply because that was the way he was. I hated the way the way the creators just made her cry and perform pujas when her brother was a devil at times. In this story, I aim on making her a stronger character who stands up against her brother's anger.

Also, I truly dislike IF's formatting issues. I had to go back several times when I was posting this chapter because the text wasn't centering properly and the double quotes (") kept on getting cut from the dialogues. Therefore, I may move this to a blog. Let me know which one is more convenient.

I will try to update frequently, but the next chapter may be slightly delayed for some personal reasons.

Lastly, I'm beyond amazed at the amount of love you guys have given to the last chapter. I appreciate you all and I'm still in disbelief. You guys are amazing and wonderful and thank you. I read all of your comments and they truly made my weekend. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. ❤️

Originally posted by: Mrieshka

Beautiful writing style and story. I have only one question that will you complete it. I have read your another story something like he knew and got hooked to it yet it is still incomplete. I understand AD can make things hard however it is sad if story is not complete.

I was just curious. Please don't feel offended. I really liked your writing style and it is very easy to get hooked to it I am already in it.

You have a talent please continue this.

Thank you.