Typed: 17/12/2023
Chapter 20: Loves Yug

Author's POV:

Her husband clenched his teeth to stop himself from telling her to pack more clothes. Khushi had only packed a small luggage. She expected to return back home—Yug's house—in a week at the least. She didn't.

When Khushi stepped out of his car and clutched her handbag, ready to open the car's boot and take her luggage out, Yug told her to leave it. He opens the boot and takes her black luggage out, shutting the car's boot loudly. He signals her with his eyes to approach her father's house as he locks the car.

She doesn't want to go back, especially unannounced but it's probably for the better. He needs time. Anybody in his situation would do the same. How long does he need? That's something she doesn't know the answer to.

As they walk up the two flights of stairs, the both remain silent. It's like they don't know how to breathe too. When she knocks, her father instantly opens. His face has both a smile and amusement seeing his daughter and son-in-law. Then his eyes landed on Yug's hand that gripped her bag.

"How have you been?" He asks Yug. He pulls Khushi inside the house, that was his way of greeting and hugging her. Yug thought it was odd but he couldn't care less. Whether his father-in-law had hugged his wife or not, it made no difference because he still hated him. He was the reason behind Khushi's pain.

He doesn't greet or answer his father-in-law's questions. He simply walks in with an acknowledging nod. Placing the luggage on the ground, he addresses his stepmother-in-law with a bow when she walks into the living room. "Khushi's here to spend some time with her family."

She feels like a puppet, being told what to do and how to act. That's how she's been all her life, even now. Now when she thought she could finally breathe the same air as others. She doesn't meet her parent's eyes. She keeps them on her husband's jaw as he stands beside her, tall and straight, speaking to her parents.

"Oh," is all her father says. He stares from his daughter to his son-in-law and he knows something is wrong. His daughter's face says it all.

Instead of her father, her stepmother says, "you should have told us you were coming." She eyes Khushi, unhappy with the unannounced visit then back at her son-in-law, gently smiling, "it's okay, though, I can quickly make dinner."

He waves his hand, gesturing her not to worry. He doesn't smile, he has no energy to. His face remains hard and bristle as he speaks, "please don't. I'm in a hurry. I just came to," he did the mistake of turning his gaze slightly to his wife and when he found hers on his, he quickly moved his eyes to his in-laws. His stomach felt tight with guilt. "I came to drop Khushi off safely. Now," he glances at his watch, "I shall leave, I'm getting late."

They tried to reason with him but Yug was stern with his decision. "Okay fine, next time you are having dinner with us, though." He nods at his mother-in-law, impatient to get out of the house and disappear somewhere in Delhi because his home wouldn't feel the same without his wife. "Khushi, go drop him to his car."

"No, it's fine."

"No, it's absolutely not fine. Khushi, go," she listens to her mother and leaves her bags inside the house, walking out. Yug reluctantly follows her, he doesn't want to create a scene. He prefers peace.

Yug bumps into Khushi's back when she suddenly stops on the ground floor. "When am I coming back, Yug?"

He moves back, creating enough space between them. He signs, massaging his temple, "I don't know." He loosens his tie and unbuttons the first three buttons of his white dress shirt. "You should have packed more clothes." He hopes she gets the hint.

Khushi glances over her shoulder in disbelief. "It was so easy for you, no? Being the nice guy, pretending like you don't know anything in front of my parents." He's taken aback by the wrath in her eyes and voice. "Leaving me to deal with the mess because they will know. They will find out and then I'll have to fix this all alone." There's this tortious and begging Khushi behind her strong words, he sees it because he avoids her eyes.

"Trust me when I say it's better I pretend in front of them than acknowledging how shit and bastard of a parent they both are individually. I can't imagine how they are together. I loathe them." The detest is evident in his words. He swallows the bitterness away. "I don—" he paused when he saw a man walking upstairs. Yug moved slightly to give him way. When he'd left, he began again, "—I'm not having this conversation again with you."

"You barely had any conversation with me," she reminds him, her tone concrete like stiff. When her husband makes a move to leave, she holds his forearm, keeping him in place, blocking his way. "I'm speaking to you." He is beginning to lose his temper. "You slept in your study room last night, and haven't said a word to me today except for informing me to pack my bags—speak to me. We need to communicate."

"Don't touch me." He unwraps her hand from his. The act wasn't merciless and forceful but enough for Khushi to know where she stands. "I need to think everything through. It's better you stay here while I clear my head."

"Fine," she respects his wishes although his 'don't touch me' hurts her heart. She clenches her teeth, suppressing her tears, gulping them down like water. "I will stay here for as long as you want. But promise me—"

He snarls "I owe you no promises. No promises for you."

Her eyes break. He has seen hearts break—his own last night—and people break but not eyes. There's a difference in this kind of rejection because her orbs are surrounded by an ocean with heavy and thunder like waves, the kind of waves that inhale you. It looks like these waves will take away the little vision she had because of how distant he made her feel. Yesterday they were inseparable. Now, he's made her feel more distant than a stranger would be.

"You promised to never let me go. You promised to never let go of me," she said it more to herself than him. She repeats it to motivate herself to stand her ground. To stay rigid. To fight. To fight for the most precious, most cherishable relationship in her life. She fought to keep her head up high, to maintain eye contact.

His low-spirited and gloomy eyes stare at her in longing. She looks as dejected as him. As depressed as him, if not, more. He wants to cup her cheeks and kiss her whole face but he stands his ground. Blade-like sharp words, Yug declares, "I'm going back on my words then" for the first time, Khushi.

~

"It hasn't even been a day and you look wrenched." Harsh voices out his observation. His elder brother makes a face, chewing his food. "When is she returning, again?"

Yug took a sip of his water, preparing himself for a lie. It feels so wrong to him to lie. "Unsure. She didn't tell me when she's coming back."

Harsh watches him carefully. It was hard for him to be convinced because the couple acted to oddly this morning. Yesterday they were so chatty as Yug drove to her work and Harsh sat in the back seat. And today? This morning Khushi was hesitant to sit on the passenger seat.

"I see." The way he stretches his sentence, Yug can tell he's not convinced. He ignores his younger brother. There was way too much for him to process than worry about his brother. "Regardless, you look like you're grieving."

"Can you just shut up? Stop fucking talking." He gets up and walks into the kitchen with his plate and glass, placing it on the sink.

Harsh follows him, "and you're swearing, that confirms my doubt. Tell me," he has made up his mind, Harsh will not drop this until he finds out the reason. He puts his plates in the sink too, waiting for his brother to wash it, like he always did before he got married. "Did you guys have an argument? I bet she won, I mean, she is a lawy—"

"Wash the dishes," Yug interrupt him. He starts to walk away but his brother reminds me that he's to wash the dishes, like always. "I'm not your maid. Do it yourself, besides, you pay not rent!"

Harsh pouts, "excuse me? You should be ashamed of yourself, I'm younger than yo—don't change the topic. What was the argument about?"

Yug points his angry index finger to his brother, "I swear to God, Harsh, don't tempt me. Your sister-in-law and I need time apart to figure shit out. Okay? Now wash the dishes." His lecture is done but he stays in the kitchen. The brothers don't utter a single word but silently curse and judge one another.

"You can leave, there's the door." Harsh reminds him, pointing to the door. "Go to bed, without your wife."

And that ticked him off. "I told her to leave."

~

Yug didn't tell his brother the reason that night. It's been a week since that conversation happened and Yug hasn't uttered a single word to his brother. He refuses to share details about his relationship with anyone. Not even his brother or best friend Akshay.

"You should have brought your wife with you," Akshay's wife Priya mumbles handing a small teddy bear to her one-year-old daughter who was in Yug's lap, giggling at him.

Yug looks at Priya, nodding, eyes back on the little baby, tickling her. "I will next time. She's at her father's place."

For the past one week, Yug tries to distract himself. His runs are more motivated and purposeful now—to forget his wife. He stays at work longer than necessary and tries to visit his friends more often, so by the time he's home, he will be too tired to stay awake thinking of her.

Akshay only knows the couple had an argument. An argument that he believes was big enough to force Yug to lose his temper and disrespectfully tell his wife to leave. Yug was not the man to make such a move so if he had, Khushi must have done something.

For the peace of their long friendship and his best friend's privacy, Akshay never asked what the argument was about. It didn't disregard the fact that he could sense how lonely, how tired and exhausted his friend had become.

Unlike his usual cleanshaven face, Yug has grown facial hair, enough for a beard to take place. His eyes constantly looked heavy, as if he'd drunk too much or hadn't slept in a decade. His eyebags weren't too prominent but enough for close friends to see the change. He still remained fit because of his morning runs but he no longer remembered to wear his tie to work or blazer. Just his shirt, his unironed shirt.

"When is she returning?" Priya questions, setting up the dining table with the help of her husband.

Yug pokes the little baby's nose, making a funny noise to make her laugh. He throws her up in the air and catches her, swirling her around slowly. The little girl's eyes twinkle as she chuckles at her uncle. "I don't know," he's too busy playing with the baby. "Maybe another week or two."

Akshay presses his lips into a firm line. He doesn't understand why Yug can't say sorry and call her back. They haven't messaged or called each other. Yug can be stubborn but he's shocked at Khushi's stubbornness too.

His friend's wife calls him over to the table, "you're so good with little children. I say call your wife back home soon and make your own."

His glittering eyes tear themselves from the little baby and move to Priya. He tries to keep the smile but it disappears. His face breaks into emotions he's shoved deep inside his heart ever since she left. He hands her the baby and takes a seat on the dining table by his friend, eating in silence.

~

"This is ridiculous. You both are so ridiculous." Neha had been lied to for a whole week until Khushi finally accepted the truth and told her about her situation. "Men are dumb but you are worse. Of course, he'd be annoyed but you should have messaged him at least." Neha hands Khushi her phone, "call him now."

Khushi makes a face, "he needs time. He was lied to for god sake, Neha. He has every right to want space to navigate it all. I would have done the same." She takes her phone from Neha's hand and throws it on the bed. "I don't want to speak to him until he's ready."

"I'm not doubting his intentions. He has the right to navigate his feelings but he also knows your father lied. Not you." She's pacing around the bedroom, raging, looking for any object to hit her best friend's father with. "Has your father done anything sane in his life?" She's always had strong hatred towards Khushi's father and she didn't bother hiding it.

Khushi sits on the bed and continues folding the dry clothes. "But I did." She whispers to herself. Neha doesn't hear her so she repeats it, louder, "I did lie. I kept it from him. I was selfish. I—I was happy. I was so happy that I didn't want," she closes her eyes and clutches her dress in her hand. "Anyways, he can reach out to me when he's ready. I won't cross the boundary."

"He's your husband!" Neha kneels in front of Khushi and holds her hands, "you have every right to call and message him, to just ask how he is. How you feel. How you miss him. I'm not stupid Khushi, I see how your eyes hang on your phone, waiting for his name to pop up." She touches her cheeks, "you miss him, you love him, just drop it and go home."

There was no amusement in Khushi's eyes when she heard the strong word; love. No amusement because she knows she loves him. She knew the moment he didn't drink chai and gave it to her because Harsh had drank hers. She has a sharp eye and is aware of her surroundings. It was such a small selfless move but it meant something. Tiny things mattered to her.

During their honeymoon he'd swiftly walk in front of her, joking and then walk beside her. He tried to make it look so smooth by changing his position from her left to her right on the footpath, so she wouldn't get hurt if someone drove recklessly. She knew at that moment too.

When he promised to accept her as his wife, when in their bedroom he'd gently raised his hand to touch her cheeks, waiting for her reaction—for her permission, she knew. She knew she loved the little things he did. The little observations he made.

She knew she loved him when he had helped her pack for their honeymoon. When he let her sleep in and went for his morning runs, without disturbing her. She knew she loved him when he memorised her favourite destinations to travel to and then chose Manali. When he started making her tea every morning—even during their honeymoon—and woke her up quietly.

She always knew she loved him so there was no reaction from her. Neha encouraged her to call him. She said it again and again until she'd left, praying her best friend listened.

Khushi didn't listen. She laid in bed that night, her phone beside her, face upwards, staring at it, waiting for it to buzz with his notification but it didn't. She'd slept like this for the past week, waiting, longing. But her faith—her strong faith—in her husband didn't decrease. She still had hope. She was certain he missed her as much as she did. "He just needs time. He needs time."

She was right.

~

It was the eighth day. Yug had gotten back from his run an hour ago. He was heading into the kitchen with his empty breakfast plate to put it in the sink. "Bhaiya, when is she coming back?" Kamla, his housemaid asked.

Yug rinses the plate and dries his hand with the tea towel. "Apka dil nahi lag rah, kya?" He's joking and smiling his tiny smile but it doesn't flatter his features like it always does when he cracks a joke. (Your heart isn't happy?)

Kamla, a married woman in her thirties shakes her head as an answer to his question. She takes the tea towel from his hand and hangs it. "Apka lag raha hai? Apki toh biwi hai." (Is your heart happy? She's your wife.)

His smile remains but it's much more real this time. He fills his water bottle, mumbling, "dil," he starts, giving the question a thought. "Dil insaan ke sabse bade problem hai." (Heart is the biggest problem of a human being).

When he turns the tap off, she says, "then don't be one of them. Don't let it become your problem and call her home."

He gives her a salute, "bye di." And he leaves for work. The whole drive to work, he lets Harsh speak. Yug loves driving but it's the first time he's let Harsh drive them to work. It's been like that for the past five days. He lets Harsh drive and chit-chat while he stares out the window, trying not to fall asleep and reminisce over her memories.

"Ma and Papa called too. They can sense something is wrong too now. It's been over a week."

He feels like he's brought back to reality. Yug adjusts in his seat, staring at the trees around them, trying to stay awake. "Let them." He couldn't care less.

He needed time. To process everything.

He doesn't loathe Khushi or feel less for her than he did. He hates how she kept a secret. She knew at one point that her father had kept Yug in the dark, yet she hid it. Did she not feel guilty? Had I not made her feel comfortable and wanted—was I not enough that she hid it from me?

In their relationship, he'd always communicated about everything. Everything. Then why couldn't she voice it out? It was a big secret. It wasn't just a boyfriend she was with, she was married, and he was her second husband.

He had every right to be angry with everyone. With himself.

They were meant to share a life together. Kids. House. Their life, the ins and outs and she hid it. What irritated him more was; how long was she going to hide it? She didn't even confront him. He only knew because he saw her back. If he hadn't seen it that day, he would have later because Yug planned on doing something that would make his wife speak but this—this was unacceptable.

He glanced at his phone and saw yet another email from work and nothing from Khushi. "Just speak to her."

He snarled, "she hasn't bothered to reach out."

Harsh didn't think twice before speaking, as if he had experience. He turned right, "maybe because she's waiting for you to. After all, you did ask her to leave."

"I said it nicely."

"Doesn't matter," tone clipped. "Leaving means leaving. Just call her already."

But he doesn't call her. He decided to meet her in person. He gave in. Again. He hates how he gives in so easily when it comes to her. He breaks his own promises just for her. He promised himself not to meet her but he is.

Three hours later, Yug was inside the local café that his wife frequently visits. He was aware the barista—Pihu—is friends with his wife. Khushi had told him all about her during their honeymoon. She was surprised when she saw him but quickly masked her expression. "I'm grabbing coffee for my wife. Please, can I order her usual?" Pihu had smiled at him and did exactly that.

Ten minutes later, he approached Khushi's office with a coffee in his hand for her. He's never been this anxious but something about visiting her office—an official place filled with lawyers—made him intimidated. Additionally, seeing her after nine days didn't help in the slightest.

When he got to the receptionist, he greeted her with his brightest smile, giving her a nice impression. He told himself that he must come across as a gentleman—which he is and he knows it but he was extra cautious because Khushi works here. "I'm here to meet Mrs Verma."

The receptionist smiles a professional smile, "I'm sorry but we don't have a lawyer with the surname Verma here, Sir."

He stared at her, confused. Huh. Then he realised Khushi probably hadn't legally adopted his name yet. "My apologies, I mean Mrs Khushi Gupta. I'm her husband, Yug Verma. Khushi hasn't come around to changing her surname legally yet." He was praying he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. The warmth radiating from the coffee cup didn't help either.

"Oh." She realises, "oh, yes. Sorry, I completely forgot she's married now." She laughs, "she's actually in an interview. She finishes in an hour," she stares at the clock hanging on the wall behind him, he looks at it over his shoulder, following her eyes. "You could wait?"

He didn't have time and nor does he have the guts anymore. "I'll just meet her at home, I have to get back to work." Why am I oversharing? Fuck. I'm so nervous. "If you could please pass this to her for me. Khushi has the habit of drinking coffee every day," he hands it over to her and rushes out of the office before she stops him.

When Khushi was informed by the receptionist that her husband was here and brought her coffee, she ran out the door, hoping she could reach him in time.

"Yug!" She screamed when she saw a familiar back with a crisp white shirt. The same shirt she'd buttoned for him on his first day back to work after his leave was over. He halts. He doesn't turn, his hands are sweating by his hips and he clenches his jaw, suppressing his emotions.

Khushi ran to him and heaved, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. "Khushi." He turns. His lips were so familiar with her name that it came out as a single breath. "How are you?" He questioned, inhaling her familiar blackberry scent that was super fruity and strong.

Her hair was tied back and she wasn't wearing her glasses. She was in a brown suit with a white shirt underneath and light makeup, so light that he could barely tell she wore any. "You didn't call me. For days."

He nods, accepting the truth. Shoving his hands deep inside his pants pocket he mutters, "you didn't too."

"You sound like a child." She mutters. There's no anger or sadness lacing her voice. She just casually throws it on his face, crossing her arm.

He mumbles something under his breath, nodding again, smiling to himself as he kicks the rock under his feet. "Look after this child then," Khushi believes she's losing her mind and hearing nonsense. He levels his eyes to her, no longer looking at the ground, "come back. Come back and take care of this child." There's this sad and heart-breaking smile on his lips. The one that makes your lips tremble right before you start crying. He was about to cry.

Despite his professional aura and clothes, his blazer didn't make him look like a businessman for the first time. In that blazer, with that broken smile, Yug looks broken and hopeless, waiting for be accepted and embraced by his woman. By his Khushi.

"Come back," he repeats, walking closer to her. Standing barely five inches away from her, he restrains himself from touching her. From kissing her. We're in public. So he keeps his hands buried inside his pants. "Come back home to me. I've been miserable for these nine long days. I can't live without you. Come home, I'm begging you, please, Khushi. Come back home to your Yug."

The Unwanted Bride

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