Sunlight trickled into the rooms from between the curtains, spreading a deep orangish hue throughout the stately room. And it was this very strange sensation of sunlight on his face that woke Arnav. With awakening came the realization that his head was hurting, very very badly. Cursing the effects of a hangover, Arnav opened his eyes to stare right into the ceiling of his room. He stopped, observing the intricate floral patterns that graced the inside roof of this palatial structure. There were tulips, chrysanthemums, roses, sunflowers beautifully carved right in the center followed by pictures of elephants, horses, more flowers, dancing girls, all spiraling outwards in concentric circles. Funny, how he had never noticed it before. Rubbing his head to sooth the throb, he tried to prop himself upon his bed, to ring for his favourite black coffee, but his body refused to cooperate. He felt tired and weary, exhausted and defeated. Collapsing on his soft mattress, he tried once again, to sit up, and this time managed to prop himself up against the headboard, albeit with more will power than the energy reserves his body would allow. Once that had been achieved, he felt spent with no strength left to even pick up the phone and dial a number. Hell, he had no energy left to speak. When he tried to call out, he could barely whisper.

He looked around his room. Oddly enough, he didn't remember coming here last night. His last memory was of him in his office, pouring a scotch. Then his eyes darted towards the petite figure sleeping on his recliner. Khushi Kumari Gupta. Why was she here? What was she doing here? Why was she sleeping on the recliner? Myriad questions hurled through his brain. But before he could voice them, Khushi opened her eyes and saw Arnav staring back at her.

"Arnavji, you're up", she said enthusiastically, as if it was an everyday occurrence for her to see him wake up. And before he could attempt his next bodily maneuver, she added, with urgency: "Don't get up. Let me know what you need and I will get it for you."

"Why?", he rasped. Thankfully, it didn't come out as a whisper.

"Why?" Khushi looked at him as if he had sprouted horns. Surely this man was impossible. Last night he almost gave everyone a panic attack. Didn't he realize that he was sleeping in his three-piece suit? That he was weak and tired? Surely, he was smarter than he was letting on at the moment by asking why.

Why? Because I found you ice-cold last night. Because I thought you were dead. Because I was worried and concerned and fearful, she thought. But Khushi didn't say any of that. Instead, she put on another bright smile and helped him cover himself better with his comforter. She didn't want him getting cold, again. "Because you fainted in your office last night," she said. "And because the doctor said that was due to low blood sugar levels."

"How did you know?", he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I was the one who found you in that state."

She sported a bright smile and pretended to be brave, but one look into her eyes and Arnav could see care and concern. But why was Khushi concerned about him? What had he done to deserve anything from her except hatred?

Before Arnav could begin making sense of all that she was saying, Khushi continued: "None of this matters. What matters is that you're safe. However, for the next 48 hours, you're listening to everything I tell you to do, at least until Anjaliji gets here. Then she can deal with you."

Aman had called Anjali early in the morning to inform her about Arnav's health. And Anjali had promised she would get there as soon as she could. Arnav could barely grasp the implications of all that had happened since last evening. Seeing him speechless, Khushi continued: "So Ravan Singh Raizada, I mean... Arnav Singh Raizada, what would you like for breakfast? Actually let me correct that. Today's menu doesn't include toast, orange juice, and black coffee. You can order anything you like apart from those three things and I will bring it for you," clearly emphasizing he was to not get up. "Breakfast will be followed by medication and an hour later we will check your sugar levels."

"In that case, Ms. Khushi Kumari Gupta, how about eating Lucknow's famous Aloo Puri's with a liberal serving of Ginger and Cardamom Tea," he grinned.

Khushi looked at him and smiled, seeing him for the boy he was instead of the man he had become. Aman had told her little, but she intended to find out all of it.

"Remember, the tea comes with a liberal dose of sugar," she teased, making her way out to the kitchen, closing the door behind her. Then she softly whispered to herself: "It's time you get used to sweet things."

Arnav chuckled at her response: "Crazy." But there was a hint of a smile there, that could be improved upon, only if Khushi put her mind to it.

******

It was a day of firsts for Arnav. For the first time, Arnav felt relaxed and rested, in a very long while. For the first time, Arnav felt his age. For the first time, Arnav felt bored. Indeed. Arnav Singh Raizada was bored out of his wits. Following a sumptuous breakfast with what was undoubtedly one of the best cups of tea he had ever had, Khushi Kumari Gupta had consciously and effectively proceeded to disconnect every gadget from his life. His cell phone, iPad and laptop were now switched off and securely stowed in his cupboard.

Arnav had scowled and threatened her prospects with AR. She had simply smiled. Vowing to get is all himself, he had tried to get up from his resting position. But alas, even his body had turned traitor, weakness engulfing him every time he tried to swing his legs down from the bed.

Khushi had smiled some more and told him to take rest because that's what the doctor had advised. Then she had placed herself on his huge study table to finish the reworked designs for the head designer, so he could start on the prototypes.

And that is precisely what Arnav Singh Raizada was trying to do for the last two hours, staring into blank space, bored out of his wits, wondering what sin he was being punished for. And after two hours, there was another first for Arnav Singh Raizada. He conceded defeat.

"Khushi," he called, hoping to start a conversation with her, now that he had come to terms with his state of not possessing electronics.

"Hmmm...," she responded, fervently colouring something using a baby pink colour pencil.

"What are you doing Khushi?" he prodded.

"Designing.."

He waited for her to say more, but she didn't, continuing to fervently colour the piece of paper in front of her.

"Show me the design, maybe I'll be able to help," he asked.

Another hmmm and more scratching of the pencil on paper.

"Khushi, what design are you working on? As far as I remember, there is nothing in our portfolio that requires pink."

No response.

"KHUSHI", he screamed, as loudly as his health would allow. It didn't have the ASR effect, but it was much better than the whisper that came out of his mouth a few hours ago.

Taking a deep breath, Khushi turned to Arnav, an irritated expression donning her face.

"What is it Arnavji. Why are you not letting me work in peace?"

"Why am I not letting you work in peace?", his pitch increased. "Here you're torturing me by taking away my laptop and cellphone and you want me to answer that question?" He was livid, as livid as he could be with the girl who had saved his life.

Aman had come by late morning to check on ASR. Along with informing Khushi about Anjali's flight details, he had also told ASR about how he owed his life to Khushi, who discovered him ice-cold in his office at midnight. When Arnav had asked Khushi, what she was doing in his office at that time, she had completely ignored the question and switched subjects. He still didn't have an answer, and he wouldn't rest before he got one. But now was not the time to pursue that line of conversation.

It had been over a minute since he asked his question, and Khushi had yet not answered.

"KHUSHI", he shouted, to the best of his ability, again.

Khushi hmmpfed and swerved the chair in his direction. She was looking angry and irritated.

"Maybe I should remind you that the prototypes need to completed and shipped before we leave for Milan, which is in another 10 days," she bit.

"Exactly my point," smiled Arnav, finally seeing a way to getting his gadgets back. "And since there is so much more that needs to be done, can you bring me my laptop?"

"No."

Arnav rolled his eyes. Would this day end?

"Khushi..."

No response.

"Khushi..."

Again no response.

"Khushi..."

"Arnavji if you keep bothering me, I will get up and go and work in the hallway."

"Before you go can you bring me my laptop and cellphone?"

"No."

****

The next hour was not so bad. Aman was visiting yet again and thankfully diverting Arnav's attention from counting the number of elephants, horses and dancing girls on the ceiling for the 31st time. For a while, the conversation about work and updates regarding the AR Milan expansion had kept Arnav engaged. But a phone call from the North Wing of Sheesh Mahal had Aman politely excusing himself.

On his way out, Aman stopped to speak with Khushi. "Khushi, I needed a favour from you."

Arnav's ears hitched.

"Can you please stay here for another night, at Sheesh Mahal?"

"Why? Wasn't Anjaliji going to be here this evening?"

"Yes, she was. But apparently the pollution levels in Delhi are so high, flights are unable to take off. So she won't be here before tomorrow. And I have an important appointment that might run quite late tonight."

Khushi fidgeted with the pencil in her hand. Last night had been an emergency. Surely, her parents won't agree to her spending another night outside the house. She still had a lot of explaining to do as to why she decided to step out of the house at that ungodly hour.

"I don't think my parents will agree," she whispered.

"They already have, Khushi," said Aman and winked. "I spoke to Buaji earlier today and she told me to let you know it's important to be a good human being."

Then he paused. With a certain hesitancy in his voice, he added: "She was quite excited for you to spend some more time here. She also said she would convince your parents," unable to shake off the feeling that there was something brewing in that old woman's brain.

Khushi knew what her Buaji was thinking but refrained from saying anything in front of Arnav.

"But I still don't have a change of clothes," she cried exasperated.

That comment drew a loud guffaw from Aman. "You work for a fashion design company and you're worried about not having a change of clothes?"

Then he sobered and said: "I'll be going out for a lunch meeting. On my way back, I'll stop by your place and pick up your things. Call Buaji and let her know what you need."

Saying this he fondly ruffled Khushi's hair and walked out. Arnav watched the entire exchange with confusion. Surely, there was something between Aman and Khushi. But then it didn't sound like love. Otherwise, why would he allow her to spend a night in another man's room?

****

Arnav didn't remember the last time someone had taken care of him. Anjali and he had never shared an apartment. And Arnav usually never told anyone he was sick. The only person who had ever cared for him like this was his mother. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was strange to think of crazy Khushi, like this, but he had to give her credit. She had done an excellent job - ensuring he got his food and medications on time, making sure he was well hydrated and comfortable and rested and constantly monitoring his blood glucose levels to keep things stable. He had never been more impressed with a 24-year-old girl in his life.

He also didn't remember the last time he had had so much fun. The constant sparring with Khushi was exhilarating. The girl was not just witty and funny but also possessed a razor-sharp tongue which she wasn't scared to use on Arnav. Coming to think of it, this was the first time, someone had spent time with him and not been either enamoured by his wealth or intimidated by his persona. And was he honestly not just thankful for such company, but also beginning to like it.

It was 8 pm in the evening and Khushi had just put away their dinner plates. She had changed into her pearl blue salwar kameez night suit and was making herself comfortable on the recliner when Arnav asked: "Khushi, what were you working on all day today?"

She turned to look at him, with a sly smile on her face, expecting to see ASR in action, now that he had recovered enough to tell her off. What she instead saw was a small boy eager to find out what his friends had been up to. She walked up to the desk, picked up a bunch of papers and took it to him. Seated on the edge of the bed, she showed him the final draft. In it, Khushi had sketched a beautiful baby pink A-line tunic with extensive gota embroidery gracing the neckline and the sleeves. He flipped, the next one was a dark pink oversized turtle neck tunic with gota work on the entire length of its full sleeve. He went through all of them, - the kaftan, the kurta, the blouse, the cowl neck - all designs had three things in common - they were all tunics, all were pink and they all had gota embroidery incorporated in some form in their design. Arnav looked up at her.

"I saw a dusty pink saree with gota embroidery in your office. And I thought it would be great to launch a collection celebrating that art."

Unable to say much, Arnav whispered, emotion threatening to overcome, when he believed he was capable of none. "That saree belonged to my mother."

"I know," Khushi replied, her eyes misty. " I saw a picture where she was wearing it right next to it."

Perilously close to revealing that emotion, Arnav had another first. "Thank you," he told Khushi.

Shaking her head, as if it wasn't necessary, she collected her designs to put them back on his desk. "I'm sending these to Delhi tomorrow, where Vishalji will finalize these before we have the prototypes made." And because she couldn't contain the emotions within her, she added: "I've named this collection Ratna."