To Love or Not To Love

Epilogue

27 years later

"Chhote!"

Her scream reverberated throughout the entire Raizada mansion.

Sitting on the breakfast table Arnav smiled.

"3, 2, 1..." Khushi counted down, under her breath, as she placed a freshly toasted Paratha on Arnav's plate. He looked at her and winked. 

"Mom!" Another scream reverberated. A twenty-one-year-old boy came running down the staircase "How many times have I told Di NOT TO CALL ME CHHOTE. My friends make fun of me. But she doesn't care."

The boy huffed as he took his place near Arnav. Khushi placed a plate in front of him and served him another of the freshly toasted parathas.

"Aarav," began Arnav. But his words were cut short by another scream, just as loud as the first one. An angry twenty-six-year-old huffed her way to the dining table, ready for battle. 

"Chhote, I am going to kill you. How dare you color all over my favorite dress. That too with a permanent marker." 

Khushi viewed the scene with growing amusement. There was nothing new about it. The siblings were always at each other's throats. But try and admonish one of them and the other would stand up as if they've always been a team. The dynamics of the sibling relationship that her kids shared was very different from what Arnav shared with Anjali or she shared with Payal. But there was love, lots of it. And that's all really mattered. 

"Anjum, care for breakfast?" Khushi asked. Her daughter had taken to some ridiculous diet and Khushi had adamantly refused to make the vague recipes this new diet required. Anjum looked at the parathas in Khushi's hand, scowled, but didn't refuse her offer. Just as Khushi placed a freshly toasted paratha on Anjum's plate, she held her mother's hand. 

"Mom, tell this brat. If I ever see him in my room again, I'll hide his car keys. Then he can stay at home for all I care."

The car was Arnav's gift to his son for his 21st birthday. And Aarav was very proud of it. He didn't let go of any opportunity to show off the vehicle to his friends. 

Arnav and Khushi had finally bought a house in New Delhi. Their sprawling mansion was right next to Anjali and Shyam's on Barakhamba Road.

AR had diversified. AR Corp now had thriving companies in the finance, oil, and energy sectors. The two of them were a rare team - Arnav's hot-headedness and Khushi's cool temperament allowed them to dominate whatever they touched. And although in Khushi's role, as a managing partner for AR Designs, her focus was primarily that company, she never shied away from giving Arnav suggestions about his other businesses.

Anjali now headed the legal department for all of AR Corp. Shyam was still New Delhi's best criminal lawyer. Anya now had a brother - Shayan. Life was not perfect, but it was beautiful. And Khushi thanked Devi Maiyya for it every day.

Just then the doorbell rang and Anjali's son Shayan sauntered in. Older to Anjum by two years, both of them over the years had become partners in crime.

"Guess who's coming?" he asked, taking a spot on the dining table as Khushi placed a plate in front of him and served him parathas. A foodie, Shayan loved his Khushi Mami's cooking and found every opportunity to eat at theirs instead of his own place. Anjali joked good-naturedly that her grocery bills had halved since Arnav and Khushi moved in as their neighbors.

"Anya." The voice was Anjali's as she made her way into the Raizada Mansion and took a spot on the dining table.

"Di, will you have parathas?" Khushi questioned.

"No Khushi." But it wasn't Anjali who answered. Shyam had just walked in too. He took the last vacant seat on the dining table near Anjali.

"We both will have coffee if there is any."

"I'll just let Hariprakash know to brew some."

"So, Bua, when is Anya coming?" Anjum was excited. The cousins adored their older sister who was a rare combination of sensibility and fun.

"When Anya Di comes, I'll take her for a spin in my new car."

"Chhote," said Anjum. "Di is not interested in cars. She's going to be shopping with me."

Anya had married her long-time boyfriend just last year. The family missed her tremendously but the cousins missed her even more.

"Mom," pouted Aarav. "How many times do I have to tell Di not to call me Chhote. I am 21 years old. It's embarrassing."

"He's right Anjum, it's embarrassing." Arnav sided with his son.

"But Dad..."

"Really Chhote?" Anjali glared at Arnav for telling Anjum off.

Just then Khushi walked in with an entire pot of coffee. Placing it on the table to allow everyone to serve themselves, she walked up to Aarav and placed a small kiss on his cheek, which he immediately rubbed off.

"Don't do that Mom," he scowled. "And Dad, tell Di not to call me Chhote." 

"Get used to it," Khushi told Aarav. "You're Dad's 60 and Bua still calls him Chhote. He hasn't been able to convince her otherwise. I don't think he's a very good advocate for this cause. Try your Fufaji instead. He's the only one who can convince your Bua and Anjum to drop the name altogether."

The family laughed as they passed food along, and shared in the excitement of their daughter's visit. Khushi looked up once again and thanked her parents for bringing Arnav into her life. Decades of companionship and a beautiful family that was hers in every which way. In the end, she had chosen to love, and she was glad she did.