[Dedication to a sweet anonymous on Tumblr who prompted: can you please write an alternative ending to the fake honeymoon night following their sizzling, possessive dance]

Genre: Angst, 1500 words.

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ILLUSION

Perception of something objectively existing in such a way as to cause misinterpretation of its actual nature. 

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"Now don't start seeing dreams," He whispered, her hand firmly in his grip. She looked at him, wondering why he thought she would see dreams about him, about them?

"How can I attach my dreams to you?" She lied through her teeth, praying her eyes didn't deceive the innumerable nights she spent seeing his face, smiling at her - or God forbid - doing things she could've only imagined.

Of course, her dreams, like her heart, belonged to another. Her words went down like a bitter pill, he hadn't been warning her at all. Arnav only needed to remind himself to not see the dreams he had carefully woven several nights ago.

"I'm doing this-"

"-for Di, me too." It was moments like this that shut him up. Why would she care about his sister? Slowly, he nudged her to follow his move. She followed him, attached like a magnet. She couldn't bear to look at his eyes, not when she knew she'd drown in them and he would do anything but save her. Her spine stiffened as her intuition warned her of another pair of eyes.

Disgust crawled her skin. Her grip tightened.

Arnav looked across, and found Shyam staring at the two of them. Even though Anjali was in his arms, he didn't hide how annoyed he was to find Khushi in Arnav's. Arnav stopped swaying, a realization settling in his throat like bile.

Oh that explains why Khushi wouldn't even look at him. Or why she wasn't even aware that he had stopped dancing.

Shyam had no right to look at his wife. Arnav Singh Raizada's wife.

Khushi frowned as Arnav lifted her hands, nudging her to dance - with him. She couldn't believe her eyes. Nor his. That he remembered there was a time when they used to walk the same steps, hand in hand, skin on skin.

With one tug she was thrown back to their historic Teri Meriperformance. These were the same steps. It was as if they weren't even dancing in the same hall. All she could see were him, and his blatant grasp on her body.

Despite her mind's violation, her body eased with his as if they had never stopped dancing since that night. When he pulled her across the length of the room, she snapped out from the reverie and into a nightmare.

A delicious nightmare. The one that left you soaked with sweat, heart pounding, and a lover's name on your lips.

It was the same steps, but not the same man. Attraction was replaced by possession, love by passion, harmony by chaos, confession by silence. They were drunk, intoxicated from the memories of the last time they were so close, where his hand had slipped under her saree to feel her bare skin, where her fingertips had brushed against his stubble.

Tonight Khushi had made one mistake, to look into his eyes. Because once she did, she was unable to look at anything else. She was free falling, miles and miles into darkness, and everytime she thought she met death - she was pulled back into his arms.

Arnav gravitated towards her. What had started as possession was slipping into desire. God damn her eyes for latching onto his! He wanted to show she was his, but he only ended up rekindling the memories he thought he had forgotten.

No matter how many times he left her hands, she swiveled back into him, and for a fleeting moment he thought if she could feel the storm in him.

NO!

She crashed into him, hands gripping his shoulder, shaking. He looked at Khushi, confusions and questions pooling in those brilliant, hazel eyes. The eyes that stared at his lips.

Perhaps someone clapped, took them to their rooms - they don't remember how they reached there.

Khushi rested her forehead against the door, hunger and desire taking a toll on her. She did not dare to open her eyes and take another step inside their room. No, she needed to leave before she forgot-

"Khushi?" Arnav watched her, standing eyes closed, fists clenched, right by the door. Did she not even want to see him?

After a moment, after he called her twice, she opened her eyes and stared at nothing.

It was dark.

His bruised pride and ego left him the minute she gasped. Khushi had nyctophobia.Her fingers flew to the wall, attempting to find the switches. His eyes, having adjusted to the darkness, could see most of the room.

Arnav reached her in two steps and tested the switches. Someone had cut the electricity. He touched her shoulder and she shoved him back. A snarl was ready at the tip of his tongue until he saw that she was shaking.

"Jiji," she whispered, like a child. She tried opening the doors but it refused to budge. Arnav tried to reach for her shoulder but stepped back, it could only frighten her further. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out to her.

"Khushi, it's me," if it made any difference.

Her hand shot out to grab his, it made all the difference.

"A-arnav." She stammered. Sweat collected on her brow. His arm was stuck in her vice like grip.

"Yeah it's me... I," He was helpless. He had never dealt with any of her fears. How had she spent the night in Nainital?

Arnav grabbed his phone and realised he doesn't have it. Damn it!

"Khushi, look at me." Khushi stared at him.

"Breathe Khushi, breathe." Khushi nodded, watching him as he took a deep breath. Khushi, when you're afraid... think of something good.Payal's words floated to her.

Khushi only saw the man before her, her worried Rajkumar. Who came in a white car, in his best suit, and drove all her fears away. The more her fear ebbed, the more her heart ached.

"Khushi, tum theek ho?" He was gentle, holding her shoulder as if she was made of glass.

Khushi broke down. Arnav reeled back, angry and helpless at once. He hated not knowing what to do. Khushi sank on her knees and curled by the door, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was not delicate, nor loud. It was the cry that broke his heart further than he thought her betrayal could. Her makeup ran down her face, her dupatta now a mess.

Just a day earlier he had flung that he would never believe her nor her tears, especially her tears. He would never give them the power to weaken him. But tonight, he would give anything to stop her sobs.

Because it was a cry of loss.

Khushi had given up, she could not pretend any longer. She tried so long to fight. From changing his room to tackling his every argument with a joke. But now she and her marriage were becoming a joke.

Arnav kneeled, trying to understand what in the world prompted her to cry.

"Khu-"

"I can't... this marriage, I can't." In a few words, his world slipped beneath his feet.

Arnav grabbed her shoulders, "Don't even think of breaking this marriage, don't you know what I can do?"

"I do!" She cried, "and I can't stay with-"

"-me." He seethed, "I know where you want to stay-"

"-no." She struggled against his grip, the darkness closing in on her, "I can't stay with your anger, your concern, your hatred, your lo-" Arnav stepped back, burnt from her confession. If only there was light, she would've seen she wasn't the only one with a broken heart.

"I'll go mad." She confessed, her breath coming out in shallow pants. Everything was too much, their marriage, dance, darkness and him.

She closed her eyes as her head swayed, exhausted. And probably she saw him, reaching out to her, holding her tight in his arms. Her hands clutched on his shirt, and she finally let herself go.

Arnav picked her in his arms, and quickly took her to bed. His heart cracked when her fist held on to the collar of his shirt. This time he relented. He was allowed to be selfish.

"I dream," She mumbled as he held her hand. Arnav, warily inched towards her to brush her fringe away.

"I dream of you, so much." Arnav stilled, his hand frozen mid air.

"Khushi, mein..." Arnav gulped as tears threatened to fall. At this point, he would've forgiven anything. Because for once, he had no idea what the truth could be. The night lingered on and Arnav stayed with her, by the bed, praying that morning never came.

Sleep finally took over him and he never realised when he had slipped right next to her.

She could've sworn she felt a 'sorry' brush against his forehead.

He could've sworn that she pulled him a little closer.

But then she had also heard him once say that she looked good in green.

But then he had also seen her desperate to know if he had bought the bangles for her.

It was just an illusion.

And if either had opened their eyes, they would've seen the tears that contradicted so.

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A/N: So sorry, I know this was supposed to be smut, but I couldn't help and veer towards angst. This is mostly Khushi's p.o.v and I tried to take her nyctophobia into consideration. Hope you liked this! #kyundardhaiitna