Side note: This book will not be big like MME. It will be of realistic length, probably 55 chapters max.

Typed: 05/12/2023
Chapter 5: The Rishta

Author's POV:

Everyone else had left and was waiting by the van for Khushi. She wasn't late, she was just paranoid that she left something behind. It was on her way out of her hotel room when she bumped into a familiar face.

Yug had grabbed her arms, steading her on her legs. It was the first time in her life that a man had reacted as quickly—if not quicker than her to remove his hands off her body. They hadn't realized this. Khushi missed this reaction too.

"I'm sorry," she gushed and then saw his face. "Yug."

His name sounded like a breath of fresh air from her mouth. "Khushi." He swiftly checked her out. Khushi was wearing a plain white kurta, with a slit on the side of the kurta, just above her thigh, showing her blue jeans. Her hair was tied back, perhaps in a messy bun. If she was wearing any makeup, it was gone unnoticed by him, especially her eyes, they looked vibrant even behind the black framed glasses. This was the first and last time—according to him—that he'd see her in glasses.

"Khushi." He nods and smiles in acknowledgement. "I wasn't watching too, I'm sorry." He was civil and nice. Not that she thought he was awful by character, but it seems like Yug is nicer outside of games. "You're leaving."

A statement.

She nods. "Yeah, umm, my trips over." She nodded, uneasy suddenly. It's not that Yug's a large person. He's not huge. Khushi, as a humble person she is, would describe Yug as someone just above average. A young man, in his late twenties maybe, black hair, extremely light brown eyes with a dimple. Physically he's fit, not too buffed or skinny, he's in between but definitely someone who pays gym a visit.

He's definitely handsome though. She could confirm that much.

His face breaks into a smile. "I hope it was restful. It was great meeting you." Yug ends up extending his hand to Khushi, waiting for a firm shake. Her eyes flatter at the unpredictable action. Khushi's profession requires shaking hand with everyone but this was not her client nor a friend.

His face was so sincerely pleasant to look at and innocent. Not the innocent that can be linked to victimization but the opposite. He's harmless. She's in the middle of a hotel's hallway, what could he do? What could she do?

Moving her hand away from her thigh, Khushi clasps it with Yug's. "Likewise." His generous smile is matched with her equally enchanting smile that could silence the clocks in any room and cage them.

~

Her father's voice was loud and clear, yelling at Isha when Khushi returned from work. "You lied Khushi." That's all she needed to hear the understand. Her father knew. Her father knew they went to Goa without telling them.

"Papa—I" she looked down, helpless. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I should have told you."

"Everything in this house is your fault, Khushi," her step mum shouted on top of her lungs. Both the girls flinched.

Isha hadn't meant to tell them, it slipped off her tongue. "She's getting out of hand," her step mum warned her husband. "Not just that, if she spends the rest of her life divorcing others, she'll never settle down herself."

Khushi felt betrayed. Dejected. "Ma," Isha tries to interrupt but her mother silences her with her glare. "Find someone. She's getting old day by day."

She felt sickened. All these years, despite what others had said, Khushi always respected and tried to get any sort of affection from her step mum. This—what she'd said—had crumbled everything Khushi worked so hard for.

She could stand, she still was standing but the tears continued to come down in generous streams. While she silently cried, there was not even a slight echo of anyone's breath in her house. All she could hear was the loud laughter of her neighbours, enjoying the company of their loved ones. She never felt that.

"I—I. I will pay rent." As the words left her mouth, hysterical sobs escaped her mouth. The sentence made her feel like she'd gone further away from her parents than she already was. "I will pay rent, support you financially but please," the sophisticated Khushi Yug and Harsh labeled dropped pn her knees. "Please, I'm so so sorry but please, I don't want to get married. Please." She shivered.

Her father's eyes welled up. He refused to look at his daughter, he refused eye contact. The best he could do, which he'd always done with Khushi, was to walk away. Like always.

"You're getting married and that's final." The voice of her step mum echoed in the quiet room, bouncing around, drilling into Khushi's ears and soul.

After all she was right to be anxious. Rohan was wrong. Khushi was right. Something bad had to happen, after all it was Khushi's life and it had to be miserable.

It had to be.

~

"I want you to act more like a businessman than a monk," the eldest Verma grits at the dining table at 8am in the morning.

Harsh laughs while Yug glares at him. "A businessman doesn't necessarily have to be a liar, papa." His father was giving him a lecture on how to be more 'socially acceptable during business deals' for his—Yug's—benefit. Meaning, to stir the pot and escape any liability due to his honesty. Yug's morals could not let him do that.

"Being objectively diplomatic isn't called being a liar," he grumbles, losing his appetite. "Yug, look, we aren't rich-rich. In fact, I would say we're just above the threshold of living a comfortable life." There's much seriousness in his voice that reaches Harsh, who's no longer laughing. "As the new owner, it's your responsibility to keep it running smoothly. Objectively."

Yug drops his spoon on his plate, elbows on the table, hands clasped, "exactly what I'm trying to say, being objective means being ethically wrong. That's against my morals."

"Bullshit morals," he exclaimed.

Yug's mother is appalled with her husband and son's take on business, "stop it already."

"Bhai, what papa means is that there's a fine line between honesty and simply avoiding the unnecessary information's."

"Exactly my point."

The atmosphere was far from light. Harsh takes the chance to speak about Khushi, "I say we hire that Khushi we met in Goa. She's a qualified diplomat."

To this Yug's muscles break and he eases back into his chair, staring at his legs, smiling to himself. "She'd be excellent." And he means it. She was as careful as a fox when interacting with them. Their father asked them to elaborate and his mother, of course, was curious. "We met her in Goa, she joined our volleyball game. She was super, I don't know, tensed as a person. Cautious with what she said."

"Beautiful too." Harsh added.

Yug shook his head, "she's the kind of woman Harsh wished I married; diplomatic." He grabbed an orange and got up, his blazer in his hand, "I shouldn't be late on my first day."

Behind him, Harsh mumbled, "I never said he should specifically marry her." His mouth turns sour.

"What's her surname name."

"Ma, yaar." His moods no longer jolly. Getting up, he follows his brother's footsteps, "Nobody knows who Khushi is. Nobody."

~

"Don't you think her reaction was dramatic? I mean, it was just a lie, where did marriage come into this?" Neha is beyond pissed with Khushi's step-mother. "And uncle said nothing? Again? He's no more than just a body, I don't think he even knows he has a mouth."

Khushi's tone is stern, "Neha." Her friend simply gags at her in annoyance. "I think it's me. It's me she dislikes. It's a build up of everything that she finally let it out."

"It's not you but her. She's the issue. She's the one who should have kept her hands off a married man—"

"NEHA!" Khushi has never raised her voice like this at Neha until now. They're on their way back home from work. "I know you hate her. I do but please." There's less plea and more aggression in her tone. "You don't have to agree with her but you can't—this is why I hid this for a week from you, exactly because of your behaviour. Grow up."

Neha follows Khushi, walking slowly on the footpath. "I am sorry. I just hate her—forget it. I'm sure it's one of her baseless threats. I mean, who will they marry you off to? A ghost."

Khushi doesn't smile, "very funny."

"I wasn't trying to be. I'm serious. Everyone's too dumb for you."

Khushi takes her glasses off and exhales out her frustration. "That's the least of their concern. A man being dumb is the least of their concern."

"And a man is my biggest concern." Neha wasn't trying to be funny, but it made Khushi smile a little. Just a little. "I will find you your dream ma—"

"I don't have one."

"You'll have one. One day." Khushi shrugs. Neha continues, "does anyone come to your mind when I say 'handsome?' Any guy? Just anyone?"

Khushi thinks. She stares at the clouds. They act as a blanket to the sky in her eye. They are there to protect the sky, shelter her like a mother. Wouldn't that be the reason why we call mother nature mother to begin with?

"No." She quietly replies. "No one comes up in my mind."

"Not even from Goa? Come on, there were so many guys!"

An image of the group pops up in her head. Then Yug. He was different. He was the kind of handsome man that you wouldn't necessarily read about in books but feel. He was the kind of handsome man who'd get into your bones and ache until you accepted, he meant something. He made her feel of olden times, of a different era, a different time in life.

But he was no one. No one beyond a dangerously beautiful face and deceptive words. "No one, Neha. I didn't see anyone appealing enough to me. Drop it already."

~

Rohan – My boss' son, the first born, he's in charge now. That sanki is firing people, Khushi! (Eccentric person)

This was the first text Khushi received from Rohan all day. They returned to Delhi just over a week ago from Goa and everyone had fallen back comfortably in their routine. Nobody was aware of Khushi's mother's plans except Neha, who Khushi informed today. It was better that way, Rohan had other things to worry about.

Khushi – I'm sure you won't be fired. I will sue him if he fires you!

Within a few seconds, as if he was waiting for her message, Rohan replied.

Rohan – You're a divorce lawyer!

She giggled, placing her bag down on her bed. Sitting down, she typed a reply.

Khushi – I'm not just a divorce lawyer. Don't underestimate me Bhatt saab.

She locks her phone and takes her blazer of, untying her hear. Running her hands through her hair, Khushi begins to unbutton her shirt. A heartbeat later, Rohan sent her a warm message.

Rohan – I would never underestimate you, Khush. You're way too precious to be considered less.

Her eyes swell. Her heart aches. The person she wants to feel and believe this and say it out loud—her parents—fail to. And Rohan, it's always Rohan who repeatedly appreciates her and makes it known. Why is it never my parents?

Khushi fails to type a reply. Her eyes and emotions have her mind swirling when she hears a knock on her bedroom door. "Yeah," she calls out, wiping her tears.

Her mother walks in, expression light but masked with seriousness. "The priest found you a man."

"A man?" She'd only unbuttoned the first two buttons and stopped. "Is there a due date? I'm assuming the husband is filing the divor—"

"A man for you." She's still puzzled. Her mother raises her voice, "a groom for you."

~

"How does handing the business over to me, for the first time, I may add, have anything to do with me settling down?"

Yug's not fuming but he's getting close to it. He sees no link between a businessman and a married man. "The priest was just around," his mother begins to explain. "We were talking to him and he suggested it's an auspicious time for you to get married soon. He saw your birth-chart, beta."

"Oh my god!" Yug holds his head. "Ma, I swear to God,"

"Ma, this is a bit too much," Harsh adds in support of his brother. "He's only twenty-eight."

"He's old enough," their father exclaims. "Rishi, the priest, he has a great girl in mind. You can meet her and speak, we aren't forcing you. Unless you're seeing someone?" His eyebrow quirks upwards in question.

"No, I'm not. But that doesn't mean—"

"Exactly, it doesn't mean you cannot meet this girl." His mother's quick to release the biodata on the supposed bride. "She's twenty-seven or twenty-eight too. I can't remember. She's career driven like you, that's why she's unmarried. She's a lawyer, beautiful girl."

"Holy, definitely diplomatic like I prayed th—" a soft pillow hits Harsh hard on his face.

"Yes," his mother gushes in delight, "your prayer did come true because her name is Khushi too!" Their mother hit two birds with one stone; Yug's attention is caught and Harsh's smile wiped off his face.

"Khushi?" Both the brother's say at the same time. They look at each other, sharing mutual confusion and curiosity.

Their father gets up from the couch, pulling his phone out, "we already have their horoscopes matched. Their chart aligns well, thirty-five out of thirty-six, that's so rare. Here's a photo of her," they both move closer to their father to confirm their doubt.

Only, Harsh had Khushi in mind and Yug had Isha. Isha because although according to Harsh she was childish, her replies were curt. Something he'd assume a lawyer would embody. The real Khushi on the other hand came across self-conscious, introverted—he assumed lawyer's would know how to communicate with anyone easily—hesitant when shaking his hand. So, it couldn't be her.

Before he could look at the photo, his phone rang. "One minute," work came first, despite his curiosity. He moved away from the crowd in his house, walking into the balcony in his father's house. "Yug Verma speaking."

Harsh took the phone of his father's hand and saw the photo. It was Khushi. It was the same Khushi who played volleyball with them. The photo must have been from an event or party or even a wedding but she wore a red colored top or dress. Her hair was short when this photo was taken, unlike now. In the photo, Khushi was looking at someone, smiling. She smiled her genuine smile.

His doubt was proven correct. "This—she's the same," he couldn't grasp the reality and his words. His parents stared at him. "She's the same Khushi from the trip. We met her there. She's—umm, nice." He mumbled a quick "I need to go" and left his parents house. Although Yug was his ride to their apartment, he chose to take an auto for the first time in years.

When Yug returned, he couldn't see his brother. "He left. He probably had work." His mother said.

"Work?" Yug slipped his phone inside his pocket. "I'm his boss. What other work does he have?" Dismissing the question which he'd ask Harsh later, he asks his father for the photo. His father, an old man who has limited skills in technology, passes the phone to Yug. Only issue, while passing the phone to his son, his fingers were on the touch screen, accidently sliding to the next photo that had been sent to him; of Isha.

Rishi had accidently sent Isha's photo to Yug's father, it was only in person that he explained it had been a mistake. And Mr Verma had forgotten to delete it too and forgot about it. Yug mumbled in shock, "we met in Go—"

"Goa. Yes, Harsh told us." His father mutters. "We are thinking of meeting her tomorrow. You're busy so you can schedule a date with her."

"He can cancel tomorrow—"

He interrupts his mother, "no, I have important work." He looks at his father for support, who nods in agreement. "Meet her tomorrow. See what you think. If you're happy, I will reach out to her."

"I thought you didn't want to get married."

"I didn't think I wanted to get married either." Yug wasn't lying. He remembers the photo of Isha he saw and all he remembered was; she's not diplomatic.

The Unwanted Bride

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