To Love or Not To Love

Chapter 52

Present-day. Sforza Castle, Milan, Italy

Arnav and Khushi seemed extremely interested in the history of the Sforza Castle. It had been two hours, but walking side by side, both diligently listened to the tour guide's commentary. The walk and the weather had Khushi wishing for a sip of water. She cursed her common sense. She'd forgotten her water bottle. She turned to ask Aman if he had one with him, only to realize the other three were missing. 

The touring group had just come around one of the corners. Surely, the others were only a few steps behind. Khushi stopped and turned back, only to have Arnav snap his fingers to her face.

"I beg your pardon?" She was parched and irritated, and his actions weren't helping.

Arnav snapped his fingers a few more times.

"What are you doing ASR?"

"Arnav," he spat through clenched teeth. "Let's not go through this again."

"A..S..R.." she shot back. "Remember that's what you wanted me to call you when we began this entire charade? Well, congratulations, you've won. I concede."

Arnav gritted his teeth some more. He imagined his hands on her delicate neck wringing them. He cleared his throat unwilling to let his mind take a fanciful flight. "In case you've lost your sense of direction, the tour is going that way." He pointed towards the crowd that stood around their tour guide. 

"I know." She sounded lost. "I was just looking for Aman."

The green-eyed monster flared its head once again. "It seems you've lost your mind as well." He was leaving no stone unturned to ruffle her feathers. "Aman, Shyam and Di are part of the tour."

"And it seems you've lost your eyesight," she stated right back. "For if you look closely, you will notice that none of them are there."

It was only then that Arnav cared to glance and confirmed what Khushi was telling him.

Before they could figure out what had happened to their companions, the tour guide called out to them to stay with the group. "Let's go with the tour for now," Arnav hissed. "We'll find them once the tour is over." Without waiting for a response from Khushi, he forcefully took her hand and dragged onwards.

*****

The tour ended in Ducal Chapel where the guide continued sharing tidbits of the palace's history.  Arnav was busy texting on his phone and Khushi was no longer interested. She was, however, mesmerized with the beautiful pictures, the rich motifs and the drawings that adorned the walls of the chapel. Mother Mary with baby Jesus on her lap, was on the wall right in front of her. Saints marched all around. The ceiling was painted with a picture of Christ rising to join his father in the heavenly abode, angels guiding his way. It all looked surreal. The entire vision brought tears to her eyes. Aware she was being excessively emotional, she dabbed the tear with the back of her hand. The scene stirred faint memories of her childhood, of her birth mother.

Garima had never let her feel unwanted, but even then sometimes, Khushi wished, albeit fancifully to find out what life might have been like if her parents had been alive. She wanted to know and perhaps was frustrated because she was unable to. 

The Ducal chapel had walkways that connected the royal chambers to it. Without realizing what she was doing, Khushi began exploring those walkways. Arnav, seeing her leave the room, followed her to bring her back. By the time the two came back, all tourists had left the spot, the door to the chapel was shut.

"Help," shouted Khushi frantically banging the heavy wooden doors, that muffled her screams. She banged on her some more and then stopped, her hands hurting from contact. Arnav looked at his mobile phone that indicated no reception. He looked at the door, then at Khushi and calmly proceeded to find a clean spot on the floor to sit down.

"What are you doing?" Khushi was fazed by his calm demeanor. "We're stuck and you're pretending as if we're here on a picnic? God knows when we'll get rescued."

"Tomorrow morning at the latest," he replied looking around for something he could use to create a fire. He got up and started feeling all of the candle sconces for an errant matchbox someone might have absently left.

"Are you out of your mind?" Khushi screamed, perturbed by his behavior. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She walked up to him and pulled his jacket collar to forcefully turn him around only to have him hold her wrist, gently but firmly.

"I know you're afraid of the dark and I'm looking for a matchbox to light those lone candles." He pointed to the stubs near Mother Mary's statue. "That should hopefully last us till dawn."

"But...," her voice faltered. She knew this was all her fault. If only she hadn't gone exploring. Thank God Arnav had followed her. She couldn't imagine being stuck here, all by herself. She took a step back, but Arnav's hold kept her from retreating all the way.

"Tell me," he cajoled. Arnav was being nice and considerate. He remembered she was claustrophobic. And he was trying his best to help her out in the current situation. The panic, the fear, the anxiety all began to get the better of her. She should politely thank him and go take the spot he was sitting in, her rational mind urged. But fear and rationality were never good friends. Khushi was scared. All she wanted was to be held. All she wanted was to be comforted.

She looked at the man, her nemesis, who was now willing to become her protector. At least for this moment. Freeing herself from his hold, she forcefully threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. And then she cried. She cried for the little girl who'd lost her parents, cried for her uncertain future, cried because she owed her life to Shashi and Garima. 

Khushi cried. She cried because she was strong and cried because she was weak. She cried because she was in love and cried because her self esteem wouldn't let her seek that love. She cried. And then cried some more. 

It was ironical, that she should find solace in the arms of the man who was responsible for this turbulence in her life. But she didn't want to think about all that right now. At this moment, he was offering to be her anchor. She would gladly accept that. Everything else, the friendships, the vengeance, the petty arguments, the one-upmanships, the complicated present, and the uncertain future, it could all wait for the crack of dawn. Khushi Kumari Gupta was eight years old when she'd lost her parents. She had been holding these tears back for 17 years. It was time they were allowed to flow.