As Arnav stopped the car in the premises of the apartment complex where Aman lived, his neck automatically craned up. His eyes zeroed down on the illuminated window of the corner flat on the third floor in the third building. Aman's house. Arnav knew exactly which flat to look at because the flat above that one, on the fourth floor, was where he used to live with his mother. The flat was still his, thanks to Ranjan uncle, but it was locked now. He seldom opened it, unable to face the memories of his kind and loving mother. After what he has become in life, after what all he has done, after what all he plans to do, his mother wouldn't approve. He knew.

"Is that Kaki?" shrugging off the gloom he asked Aman, who had rounded towards driver's side to take his leave, pointing towards the figure pacing in the small un-lit balcony of Aman's flat. Aman looked up too.

"Is she up waiting for you?"

Aman scratched the back of his head. "Umm.. yeah."

Arnav looked at his watch; 1 am. It was late, they had just returned from a day trip to Maaleghat, a prime and an extremely secure illegal port on the western coastline where most of their smuggled stuff was loaded on or offloaded of the ferries going across the Arabian Sea, and he was too tired to go to the club tonight. So, why not! 

He turned off the ignition. "I think I'll use this opportunity to meet her. I never get time to visit her anymore." 

Aman did not say anything but looked flustered.

There was no elevator in the building. It was a very old, low-income class society and the flats were all one bedroom kitchen units. Aman has told him that he had asked Kaki to move to a better larger flat now that he was earning good, but Kaki had refused to leave the house where she had memories of her late husband. Arnav could truly understand her heart. He himself had never wanted to leave but had no choice. And then years later, when he had a choice, he just didn't want to taint those beautiful childhood memories with his mother that were scattered in every corner of their flat with the new ugly inevitable ones. Arnav's eye's misted at the long ago memory of her mother bent down and Kaki leaning out of her balcony, talking for hours. They even had a basket attached to a pulley rope installed between the balcony of two flats, for the easy exchange of sugar, potatoes, flour, sweets, and other goodies. He never understood why they just didn't walk down or up a flight of stairs, and gossip in comfort. He blinked back the moisture successfully.

As they came to stand in front of Aman's flat and rang the bell, Arnav looked around. Kaki had given her sons her permission to move to newer establishments, but both Nandu and Aman loved their mother too much to leave her alone here. And with Aman marriage plans in near future, it will be impossible for them to manage in this flat. There were four flats on every floor. Arnav decided that he will gift Aman the other three flats as a wedding present and he can renovate and make them a single unit later. There was a very old Parsi man living in one, who should have been in an assisted living facility long back; one flat was a disputed property between five brothers, Arnav figured he can resolve the dispute much swiftly than the court; and the last flat, he will decently negotiate with them. Well, at first at least. He had recently started taking interest in the building and construction scene of the ever growing city of Mumbai and he was sure a solution can be amicably worked out.

The door opened and the wrinkled face of the plump old woman on the other side split into a motherly smile. "Arnav beta!"

"Try to smile like this at me too once in a while," Aman grumbled as he passed by her into the flat. The woman hit him on his shoulder with mock indignation.

"Don't listen to him, Kaki. He is just cranky. We had a long day," Arnav said smilingly and bent to touch her feet.

"Stay blessed, beta," she said with a gentle sweep of her work-roughened palms on his hair. "How are you? Come in, come in." She sat him on the old wooden sofa, that had been there since Arnav could remember. 

"You never come over anymore. And you have lost weight." she eyed him critically. 

"I am sorry, Kaki. I'll try to come more often. And no, I haven't lost an ounce. Now tell me, how are you?"

"I am good, beta," the woman beamed and started telling him about the new pickles she had made that day itself, and promising to send some of it for him with Aman when they are all done.

"When are you fixing his marriage?" Arnav asked as Aman came back with a glass of water for Arnav.

"Left to her, I'll never get married," Aman complained, taking the chair beside his mother.

"Why?" Arnav frowned.

"You know why," she replied seriously. "That Lavanya's uncle is in the police. I don't want any issue with what all kind of work you all do." 

Arnav assured, "Her uncle is just a constable in the police, Kaki. And he is going to retire in three months. My guarantee, don't worry about it."

But Subhadra Kirloskar, mother of Aman and Nandan Kirloskar, didn't look convinced. "She dresses objectionably. Refuses to leave her fancy job at the beauty parlor. No, she is not right for Aman."

"Yeah right. Like I am a super catch," Aman scoffed. Arnav grinned, and Subhadra glared at the insolent boy, "You know her parents have agreed for me with a lot of difficulties," he informed.

"Why? What is wrong with you?" Subhadra snapped, in a way only a prospective groom's mother can. "Agreed your line of work is objectionable, but with four sisters, a retired father, a sick mother and no income, I don't see a line of suitors outside her door. Why wouldn't they agree? For them, you are a catch."

Before Aman could reply, sensing the sudden escalation of tension in the room, Arnav tactfully started recounting Lavanya's good points, her family's positive points, providing Subhadra more reassurances. Aman exhaled in a long-suffering manner but wisely kept quiet. And as quietly, Subhadra looked at the wizened Arnav. The mischief maker of their building, now all grown up and responsible. Trying to make a match, taking guarantees. She wasn't happy with his or Aman's line of work, but if he hadn't given Aman employment, her husband would have died without even a halfway decent medical care. As it is they were barely getting by when her husband had worked as a factory worker. And when he had lost that job after his paralytic attack, their circumstances went from bad to worse. Nandu was young and it had befallen on still studying Aman to take care of the household. How the poor boy had struggled, working several temporary jobs, exhausting himself to the bones. She'd tried to chip in by taking up maid's job in as many households as possible, but still, they couldn't scrape enough for their father's expensive medication or hospital bills. Until Arnav hired him that is, with an honest disclosure about the dangers and stigma attached to the work he was offering. 

No matter what anyone says, Arnav was a God sent for them that time. He still is. 

Aman has told her how he was fine with keeping Nandu out of the dangerous side of his business and has yet given him a job. Vrinda, Arnav's mother, was one of her best friends. She had moved into this building with an eight-year-old Arnav and the two had gotten along fabulously. Anyone who knew Vrinda knew that Arnav was her heart. She had genuinely doted on her son more than any mother Subhadra has ever seen, herself included. Worrying herself sick over providing him a good life. Feeling visibly flattered whenever her 'grown up' son would allow her to feed him with her hands. Talking about his school grades and smartness without stopping for a breath. She had wanted her darling son to become an engineer, the computer kind who travels the world and doesn't have to do much manual labor. She would worry endlessly if Arnav would even get a small cut or a stomach ache. And now, her Arnu played with deadly bullets with no one to fret over his well-being. Subhadra's heart squeezed at the memory of her friend. Vrinda had no husband or family, and her boy was her reason to live, her mission in life, her everything. Until her last breath. 

Lying in hospital, aware that she does not have much time left, she had begged anyone and everyone who had cared to listen to take care of her son. Subhadra herself had given her solemn promise to her and in fact, had every intention to follow it through. But rich and influential Ranjan Vaghela swept in and took Arnav away with him. And eight years later, when Arnav had come to their doorstep at midnight, he was not the same boy. He was in shambles; lost and unsteady. Subhadra's heart had cried seeing him. She did the only thing she could think of, took him in her brood, fed him and tried to love him like Vrinda would have done. 

But Vrinda's strong and self-respecting Arnu had the will of iron like his mother, and with time he practically rose back from ashes on his own. Without anybody's help.

"See Aai, at least now talk to her parents," Aman chimed, and Subhadra was dragged back to the present. After a lengthy contemplation, Subhadra's faith in Arnav won. She said with a finality in her tone, "Fine. Just because Arnav is saying so. But the marriage will be after three months. Let her uncle retire, let me get to know her. Before that, nothing doing."

"Agreed," Aman yelled and jumped up to hug Arnav with a huge smile. "Thank you bhai. You should really come here more." 

Arnav shook his head in amusement. 

"Did you two eat dinner?" Subhadra asked.

"Yes," Aman answered for both of them.

"Where is Nandu?" Arnav asked. Brothers slept in the living room and as far as he can see, both the pallets were rolled into the corner. 

Before Aman could stop his mother, she answered. "He has gone with Khushiji to receive her friend at the airport. I was waiting up for him only. I am not used to of him staying out late." Aman cursed his stars as Arnav looked sharply at him. 

Standing up and peering down the window, Subhadra complained, "One would think airplanes from America will at least come at a decent time, but no."

"I'll take your leave now Kaki," Arnav stood up. 

Smiling she nodded. "Go and sleep. It's late. Take care and come again soon, beta."

"Ji, Kaki. Aman, can I talk to you, outside?"

It wasn't a request and Aman knew it.

"Why wasn't I told?" Arnav hissed, once outside.

"It was last moment decision of Khushiji. I thought since we were outside Mumbai and there is no way you can stop her... ummm ... from going out so late in the night ... so..." he trailed. Aman could bet his life that the reason of argument these two had had two days back was this friend, whom Khushiji has gone to personally receive after midnight. He did not reveal his theory that Khushiji just revealed the plan last minute, else it was premeditated. 

But Arnav arrived at that conclusion himself within seconds. He looked at Aman pointedly, "I want to be kept informed at all time. No matter what."

"Yes, bhai". 

Trying to conceal the hurt and irritation he was feeling, Arnav left.

.

.

.

.

.

Next evening, Arnav forced himself to get ready for Akash's engagement party. He didn't dress any differently today. He saw no use to dress-up for an engagement he couldn't care less about. But like Lalaji, he too kept up some pretenses of his own. Like amicably attending the joyous occasion where he rather has bridegroom's head on a platter than food on his plate. Like not openly revolting against Vaghelas. Like giving them the share in his club's profits without protest, with the help of creative accounting of course. Like letting Lalaji think that he is still under his control, somewhat. Donning the usual trousers shirt, blazer, he sat down on the bed and pulled the right leg of his trouser up. The only concession he was going to make was that instead of a shoulder holster he was going to use an ankle holster today. There was no way he was going to Akash's party without protection. He won't put it above him trying to give himself Arnav Singh Raizada's dead body as an early wedding gift. 

He shook his head to himself. There have been times where he really felt like giving up on this thing between himself and Khushi, and just put a few holes in Akash's head and be done with it. But could never see the idea through. They very idea of alienating her scared him. Maybe he was too pathetically lonely. Or maybe it's just her. He had no f**king control over his mind when it came to her. Not even when her brother was his mortal enemy. But in all fairness, he was neck deep in love with her long before he'd realized how much he wanted to kill Akash. And even then, it is not that he had not tried to think rationally step back. He had. He had tried to let her go. But look where it has led him to, only more desperate and more spurned than ever. 

Khushi and Nandu seem to be getting on famously. Gossiping, spilling hearts. Apparently, his dismal treatment of both of them within a span of a few minutes that evening below Rizwan's building had bonded the two hurt souls. While sharing their grievances towards him, they'd broken the initial ice. From what Aman told him, they had sagely consoled each other for his atrocious behavior towards them like a pair of Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa. Great, really. Arnav had all the intentions to exploit this new found friendship to keep Khushi in check. Previously he had refrained from controlling Khushi's life on the account of the security he provides her. But that was before he was aware of Archer Calhill. No more. 

Though these last three days, she has really been busy, as far as he has been told. The first day she shopped non-stop from late morning till late evening. Arnav had half the mind to go and corner her at one of the shops she was at and demand answers but then decided otherwise. He was not in the right frame of mind to confront her so soon, truth be told. And he had actually tried doing that in her last India trip when she was, well, avoiding him like always. Aman was her bodyguard and Arnav had shown up at the designer boutique she was at. The girl saw him, greeted him with a bright smile and then promptly closed herself in the fitting room and refused to come out on the pretext of alterations. After two hours, amid Aman's and shop assistant's curious looks, he had to remove himself from there while there was still some dignity left in him. Without talking a word more than hello to Khushi, and in all probability tipping Aman about his keen interest in her. He had no wish to repeat the experience with Nandu as a witness now. The girl has the art of hiding away honed down to ridiculous perfection! 

Anyway, the second day he had an emergency take him away from Mumbai but Khushi seemed to have a repeat of her day one itinerary. Until her friend landed at midnight, that is. The whole day today, as per Nandu, Khushi and that firangi practiced dances till they couldn't move or breathe anymore, in a studio filled with ten other professional dancers. Arnav doubted much could be done in such a crowd. But then, against the security norms of Vaghela Mansion, Khushi has made her friend stay with her in the house when they always, as a rule, put up their guests in a hotel. That piece of information had rankled Arnav to the core. He needs to talk to her asap. Enough is enough. 

Until then, Nandu had taken his job to his heart. Enough to not leave her alone with anyone without asking discreet permission from Arnav. He keeps Arnav updated about every second of Khushi's life that he is with her after a sound scolding about not informing him about her airport plans. Having said that, Nandu has almost redeemed himself in his eyes by unfailingly spotting and immediately reporting a vehicle inconspicuously trailing behind Khushi's car every time it rolls out of Vaghela Mansion. Arnav had made sure it was a different car every time, but not one escaped Nandu's sharp eyes. He even noted and expressed his suspicions about the black SUV that had stopped that evening across the road from them. Now, of course, he has been made aware of Khushi's backup security and told which vehicles to expect. Even with Khushi's person, he was more vigilant as per his men's reports. Thus, Arnav had written his one slack off as first-day anxiety. 

.

.

.

.

.

By the time he arrived at the lavishly decorated banquet hall of a seven-star hotel, by the grace of God, and by some of his own timing, the engagement ceremony was over. He felt so glad that he wouldn't have to suffer through the wretched thing. Akash was standing with the unlucky girl he had just noosed himself to, accepting congratulations from a couple Arnav did not recognize, probably from Desai camp. Khushi was nowhere to be seen and neither was her imported sample. Arnav made a beeline towards Lalaji, who was standing with some business associates.

"Aha, Arnav. Come beta. You were the only one missing from the family" Lalaji said with such loud enthusiasm that Arnav's steps actually slowed down with a startle. 

Heads turned towards them and he bit back a groan. Showtime!

"Lalaji,"Arnav greeted with a hand over his heart.

Amarnath patted Arnav's back with seemingly all the love and authority in the world while looking around, with a lofty smile, making sure not only the immediate circle but everyone in the vicinity sees how respected and in control he still was. "Come, I'll take you to Akash and Natasha," Lalaji said without a moment's delay. 

Apparently, in public, the show included the whole family. Where is Khushi then? 

Arnav smiled tightly but followed nonetheless. The time to dig his heels in the ground was not now.

"Congratulations," he said to the engaged couple with the liveliness of a dead body.

Akash grunted something under Lalaji's glare, but it was Natasha who took it on herself to smile up at him and express their gratitude with appropriate words. Poor girl. For a brief moment Arnav's heart really went out for her, and he flashed her a small smile. That formality done, he turned on his heels and marched away.

He knew many business people at the party and proceeded to stand with them. He knew this was no place to talk business and as he had expected, Lalaji shadowed him on and off throughout his socializing. Suddenly lights were dimmed everywhere else except the stage, securing the crowd's attention. An anchor walked onto the stage and made preliminary flowery felicitations to the new couple and their lucky families and proceeded to explain the itinerary of Sangeet ceremony that was to follow. From what Arnav gathered by his explanation, it was supposed to be some medley of songs celebrating the love story of Akash and Natasha. No doubt Khushi's brainchild. Arnav scoffed at the rosy picture Khushi was trying to paint for a relationship that was out and out a barter trade. Desai was corrupt to the core and sold his own daughter to make powerful connections, and Lalaji wanted a docile girl who was pretty enough to hold the interest of his man-wh**e of a grandson.

"Come Arnav," Lalaji invited him to the front row seats, reserved for the family.

Arnav shook his head determinedly. "I am fine here, Lalaji." 

He knew Lalaji was aiming at presenting a consolidated front in front of the business associates invited. A front where Akash is the heir-apparent, and Arnav an orphan whom kind-hearted Vaghelas have taken in. It has taken him years to dispel the conception that like others he too works under Akash Ranjan Vaghela. History will attest to the fact that there had never been a place for two swords in one sheath, and there never will be. And he will be damned if he is treated as anything less than what he has made of himself today. Moreover, there is no way in hell he will publicly display familial solidarity with people who were anything but. 

Unlike Lalaji, there was a limit to his hypocrisy. 

A few moments later, a smiling Khushi appeared in the spotlight, looking ethereal in a pastel-green and hot-pink lehenga choli. A Bollywood number floated in the air in her wake, and Khushi started moving to the beats. And just like that, Arnav found himself falling into a trance. Like iron to a magnet, his feet slowly moved closer to the stage on their own accord. Tuning out the song wherein a female voice was repeatedly crooning about her Chittiyaan Kalaiyaan, his mind singularly concentrated on Khushi's enticing form. The sway of her hips, her graceful limbs, her fluid energy, her animated face, the spark in her eyes; mesmerized him. Khushi had always been an exceptional dancer. He knew because he had religiously driven her to various dance classes for years when he was her bodyguard and had waited inside the studios on some occasions when she was practicing till late nights. His young love-lorn heart pretending a few times, that she was dancing just for him. 

 A moment later, he was harshly dragged out of his reminiscing when the male voice replaced the female's. Because with it, a grinning Archer Sweetheart Calhill hopped on the stage to join Khushi. The crowd made such boisterous noise welcoming the American import, that Arnav momentarily went deaf . Especially the young girls. One or two even pretended to swoon! As if it was the eighth wonder of the world to see a firangi dance to a Hindi number. Dumb girls. 

However, Arnav's brows furrowed when he noticed similar bloom on Khushi's face when she smiled at Calhill. His mood totally soured. He took an in-person inventory of what he will need to demolish very soon. Dark blond, fit in a Californian surfer style, an inch shorter than six feet, eyes so deeply blue that even Arnav couldn't escape noticing them; Archer Calhill was undeniably old money with his filthily expensive watch and his custom-tailored charcoal gray vest and pants over a white shirt. It didn't help that the two were dancing like a dream together. Moving in absolute sync, beat to beat, comfortably plastered to each other. The familiarity with which he touched Khushi, his hands on her bare waist too often, laughingly picking her up in his arms as if sharing a secret, made something dark rear up its head in Arnav's gut. 

Before he put the revolver in his ankle holster to a good use too soon, he turned away from the offending scene, seething. That Akash was loudly cheering the dancing duo, made Arnav want to throttle him. Only a frowning Lalaji seemed to share his sentiments in this whole bloody party. The musical saga went on and on and on. Arnav kept his eyes averted from the stage with difficulty. At one point he just went into a corner, stood with his back resting against a fake tree laden with fairy lights and seethed in the company of his smartphone, counting minutes before he could make a respectful exit. 

Just then everyone around cheered extra loudly, and without his permission, Arnav's eyes lifted towards the stage to see Akash climbing up the stage and Khushi gleefully pulling Natasha there too. The four of them then shook a leg together with impromptu steps. Akash with Khushi, and the white monkey with a giggling Natasha. Arnav found it disconcerting that Akash did not even raise an eyebrow. But then the monkey was keeping a respectful distance from Natasha, unlike how he was with Khushi. Not that Asshole had objected to that. He was accepting of him like a bloody family, future brother-in-law to be precise, making Arnav's blood boil some more. And he had thought he will have to face Khushi's wrath for just one f**king murder!

.

.

.

.

.

When Khushi's runaway breaths were under control backstage, she retouched her makeup, rearranged her clothes and stepped into the banquet hall to resume her long-standing role as perfect Vaghela hostess. She couldn't wait to hand over this particular responsibility to Natasha Bhabhi. Preferably the very day she gets married. It puts a strain on you, trying to smile at and be friendly to the people who are either visibly afraid of you, like the government officials and their wives; or people you know really don't care if you live or die as long as they profit from it, like their business associates. But putting up a picture of normalcy was necessary she had been told since time immemorial. 

Flexing her toes that were killing her now, she gave the place a once-over and started with a hurried round of the hall, verbally greeting the handful of the people she knew, smiling politely at the majority whom she didn't, instructing servers to keep the drinks coming, inviting people to proceed towards banquet tables. A few minutes here and there, either bhaiya or dadu would join her in attending the guests, but by and large, it was solely her responsibility to make sure everyone was having a good time. Or at least pretend to look like she cared. Give it all a personal touch.

Fifteen minutes later, concluding that she had covered almost everyone at least once in her hospitality campaign, she turned to go toward the front row seats where she saw Archie was lounging alone, playing on his phone. When she had left him, he was surrounded by Natasha bhabhi's eager cousins angling for an introduction. Seemed like that group disbanded prematurely. Typical Archie, she smiled. He looked up in her direction just then and waved with a smile. But before she could even take one step in that direction, her eyes got arrested by a different man similarly hunched over his phone in a secluded corner. 

She had not thought that he would still be here. Exhaustion fled away. If only she could turn away and shut him out. But as if her legs had a will of their own, they moved towards him. If only she had a brain she would have kept walking in Archie's direction. But looked like she wasn't in possession of those precious brain cells. Could it be that she was tired of pretending? No. She killed that blasphemous thought right away. Pretension was the only thing that held her together. It was her life glue.

"Hello Arnav, how are you? Are you having a good time?" she opened, able to ignore at least this much that he was having anything but a good time alone in a corner. He never had a good time with them, she knew. For eight years she had been a sad witness of him standing on the fringes of her family and never being a part of it. Just like right now. 

Arnav looked up from his phone at the shimmering Goddess standing in front of him, looking extraordinarily beautiful in Indian attire today. How bad his fingers wanted to trace those snowy cheeks flushed with exertion this evening. And those lips? His thumb itched for a touch. He swiftly stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What do you think?" he snapped.

Wariness crept over Khushi. What has angered him now? She straightened her spine. "I think you should eat something. Have you tried..."

"Unless you want him dead, Khushi... " he exploded without warning, "... stay away from him."

Color drained out of Khushi's face. Going by their yesterday's argument, there was no question who 'he' was. "Arnav?"

"I mean it, Khushi."

She knew that. Arnav didn't issue death threats for fun. She goddamned knew that. Three and a half years back, she remembered how he had told a man that he will kill him, so casually that even she'd thought he was kidding. The man was convulsing to death a few minutes later in front of her own two eyes. "He is a friend, Arnav" she scampered for an appeasing explanation. "A harmless friend. Trust me!"

"Then f**king unfriend him" he all but snarled.

She blinked at his tone. "But..."

"Send him away or I'll do it for you. You won't like my methods though."

It occurred to her a tad belatedly that she does not have to explain herself to him at all. That he had no right. That her brother can protect Archie. "Don't you dare ... threaten me, Arnav" she fumbled for her dignity. 

His eyes narrowed.

"If you do anything to him, I'll never forgive you" she bit out.

"I'll live."

Khushi fumed at his blase attitude towards her friend's life. "Touch him and I'll ask bhaiya to take over my security," she spat the first thing that came to her mind, aware that her security arrangement was a prestige point for these two and an effective bargaining chip.

He took a threatening step forward. She stepped back in an act of self-preservation but raised a finger taut with an unmistakable resolution to his face. "I will, Arnav."

In the long moment that followed, a flame of anger steeped ferociously in his coffee-colored eyes before dying out in defeat. Fight abruptly left Arnav. Khushi had him by his jugular here and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew she was stubborn enough to follow through the threat. Does she have no clue how desperate he was to maintain this one connection with her? That her security arrangement was the single thread that assured him that she was still here, around, safe, his? How helpless and lost he had felt when she was in States. There was no way she didn't understand his heart, even though he hadn't had the chance to voice it, right? His Khushi was very perceptive since she was little. His only ray of hope in that dark house, in this bleak life. 

Her hand dropped to her sides. Trying hard to pretend she did not notice the play of emotions on his face, she continued softly "You know he would love that. I just have to say the words".

She felt awful for bringing that hurt on his face but steeled her heart. Her hazel orbs, however, betrayed her. They got entangled with his eyes, which were speaking some tender language to her, the hardness in them dissolving.

"Hey, sweetheart, who is your friend here?" Archer Calhill's accented voice cut through the cocoon around them. 

The delicate moment was lost. 

Arnav looked away to gather his bearings, and to recollect his anger. Khushi cleared her throat and smiled brightly at the root cause of their current tension. "Archie, this is Arnav. Arnav, Archie" she made the introductions, pining Arnav with a gaze burning with an unmistakable warning. 

"Hey dude, Archer Calhill. Nice to meet you" Archie extended his hand for a shake.

If looks could have killed, Archer Calhill's hand would have been a pile of ash. So maliciously did Arnav glower at that offending hand, that Khushi couldn't help but cringe for poor Archie. A little intimidated, Archer dropped his hand and moved closer to Khushi. Considering the nature of her family's business, he knew he should have asked this before presenting his hand. 

"Is he dangerous?" he whispered in her ear.

Yes, to you, Khushi thought wryly and looked at Arnav. Her eyes widened when they met his murderous gaze fixed where her arm was touching Archie's and his head was bent to whisper in her ears. As if on a trampoline, Khushi jumped a foot away from her friend. Archie looked at her weirdly, but she didn't care. 

The gesture, however, did not seem to assuage his fury even by a fraction. Amidst the thick unresolved tension hanging in the air around them, with a promise of death looming large in his eyes, he stomped by her towards the exit without another word. But Khushi knew that she has won this round. His silence was a testimony of that. He won't harm Archie. Yet. She took a deep breath in, feeling limp with relief. Though a tiny part of her brain was already raising an alarm that she really needs to talk and clear a few things with him. Who was she fooling? Her time-tested formula of procrastination and pretension won't work, she finally conceded. He was relentless this time. 

"Goodness! What a scary character" Archie exclaimed. "You never mentioned him, did you? I would have remembered him else. What's his name again?" Both Khushi and Archie turned to see him leave.

"Arnav" Khushi didn't take her eyes off the retreating figure.

"Is he an enemy?" he asked.

"No." Not mine.

"A friend then?" he asked in a tone that clearly implied that Khushi would be mad if she said yes.

"No." He doesn't want to be friends.

"Then what is he?" he asked confused.

Khushi's shoulders slumped. "I have no idea". Not anymore.

.

.

Hope you guys liked it. Please do let me know what you think through your comments.

Press Follow for update alerts.

And don't forget to vote!!