To Love or Not To Love

Chapter 47

"This boy is the limit", said a frustrated Anjali to no one in particular. Her husband Shyam, who was engrossed in the contents of a file, merely looked up to humor his wife, before getting back to it.

"Shyam, what else can I do?" She stood square in front of his desk and continuously kept running her fingers through her hair. Her hair, which was usually neatly folded into a bun was a mass of unruly curls. Shyam thought she looked cute. He also knew something was aggravating her temper.

He stopped, took off his reading glasses and got up.

"What is bothering you this time, Anjali?"

"What else," she replied, her voice with a timbre of defeat. "I gave Chhote an ultimatum. I even threatened to have him married to a girl of my choice within three months, but the boy doesn't seem to care a tad bit."

Shyam sighed. Impatience was not one of his wife's virtues. She realized the direction of her husband's thoughts and came forward to hug him.

"I was scared Shyam", she whispered. "What if Khushi had not forgotten her phone in Chhote's office? What if help had not arrived on time?"

She paused to breathe. The mere thought of losing her brother after having lost her father and mother left her weak in the knees. "How long can I test good fortune?"

Shyam sympathized. He understood her vulnerability. Childhood scars ran deep. He gently caressed her back, trying to soothe her nerves.

"Anjali, don't threaten Arnav. As his lawyer, you should know by now that he doesn't respond well to threats. Instead, show him what he has to lose if he doesn't listen to you."

"How?" she eyed him like a confused doe, which only further endeared her.

"It's been a while since we've taken a vacation. Would you like to go on a two week holiday to Milan? I can ask my parents to look after Anya."

Anjali smiled, genuinely.

"Thank you Shyam, she whispered. "You're the best!"

*****

"I am not going to waste another tear on that Rakshas", muttered Khushi to herself while furiously brushing another layer of rouge to accentuate her cheekbones. She thought of all that had happened in the last two hours since she fled the cafe to the safety of her hotel room.

Twenty minutes of incessant weeping had led her to conclude that no tear was worth shedding for Arnav Singh Raizada. She had decided to celebrate the event. After all, she was rid of Arnav Singh Raizada for good. After her outburst, he would want nothing more to do with her, she concluded. Didn't he hate drama?

She drew herself a warm bath, added a liberal amount of essential salts and soaked herself in it, willing it to erase every memory of Arnav Singh Raizada that she held. She closed her eyes and out came the memories tumbling of all their encounters, the fashion show, the demeaning job offer, her numerous encounters with Arnav at Rising Star, her appointment to AR Designs, their trip to Lucknow, Arnav lying lifeless on the floor and the proverbial kiss.

She opened her eyes and remembered Aman's words to her: "Arnav blames himself for his parent's death." And then she remembered his reaction to her at the cafe, merely hours before. "Mia cara.." That's what he had called her. My beloved.

There was so much room for improvement. So much room for a meaningful relationship. So much room for love. If only that Raakshas gave it a chance. Maybe it was time to shake him a bit, so he accepts reality. But before, she would have to find out what really happened that made him averse to commitment and relationships.