Arnav noticed that since the time Anjali had landed in Milan, she'd been strangely aloof. She was talking less, walking out mid-conversation and generally keeping to herself. Arnav's concern led him to Shyam, who assured him it was all part of being pregnant. He assured Arnav this was way better since during Anya's time Anjali was always angry and irritated.

Arnav thanked Shyam and was about to make his way out when Shyam spoke. "I heard about Anjali's ultimatum." He was merely trying to finagle information. 

When Arnav didn't respond, he continued: "You have a little less than two months I imagine to find your bride." He waited for the information to sink in. When Arnav didn't respond to this too, he tried one more. 

"By the way, Anjali was on the phone with Sheetal yesterday. You should have a pretty surprise in the next day or two."

Arnav looked closely at his brother-in-law. He had a lot of respect for Shyam. Shyam was the poster boy for an ideal husband - educated, successful, caring and understanding. Someone who genuinely loved and respected his sister. But at this present moment, all Arnav wanted to do was punch him in his gut. "Don't look at me that," said Shyam, reading Arnav's thoughts accurately. "I had nothing to do with it."

Gentling his tone, he continued: "But you can tell me if you have any apprehensions. I'll try my best to understand and even explain to Anjali."

Arnav cleared his throat and then cleared it some more. He was not good at emotional conversations. He always found it extremely difficult to have one.

"You don't love Sheetal, is that it?"

"Not really," said Arnav. "I mean, yes, I don't love Sheetal, but more than that I don't particularly love the idea of marriage." He paused and Shyam patiently waited for Arnav to continue. He looked at Shyam and assessed the man. He'd been married to his sister for six years. He'd helped her heal. He was kind and caring and she had bloomed under his love. He didn't know how much Shyam knew about their lives, but if there was someone who could help Arnav right now, it was Shyam. He cleared his throat and tried to express his fear.

"Growing up, I favored my mother more," he began, halting, choosing his words carefully. He had never shared any of this with anyone before. "It wasn't only because I spent more time with her.

"I was 12 when I accidentally walked into their room when Baba and Amma were having an argument. Baba wanted to discontinue Di's education and Amma wanted Di to study further. Baba disagreed and when Amma continued to demand it, he got up and slapped her. The force of the slap scared me, and so I hid behind their room door but didn't leave. I heard what Amma said to him, that he always used brute force to get what he wanted, that he enjoyed breaking others and that he didn't care how many lives he ruined. And standing as tall as she could, she told him that she would not let him ruin his daughter's life. He had been unhappy that Anjali was a daughter, but she would not let Anjali bear the burden for his unhappiness. Then she picked up the knife that lay in the fruit basket in their room, held it to her wrist and asked him to promise that Anjali would go to college. When he didn't relent she threatened to slit her wrists and commit suicide, to make things very difficult for him in the business world.

"I remember the look Baba gave her. He relented but not without a threat. "This is the first and last time you'll use blackmail to get what you want," he told Amma. "Next time you do this, I'll personally ensure your dead body is not discovered. Then I'll tell everyone you ran away with your lover."

"He left her to weep and walked out. He didn't come back for the next two days. The night after he did, Amma didn't come down for breakfast."

Arnav stopped, and curiously looked at Shyam but all he saw in Shyam's eyes was compassion and understanding. Gaining strength from it, he continued: "After I started my business, I realized as much as I disliked my father for the way he treated my mother, I was exactly like him. I was rude, arrogant, condescending and enjoyed breaking other people. I couldn't change myself because unfortunately, that's what kept me going. AR wasn't built without shedding some blood." He paused to draw some much-needed air. The weather outside was cold, but Arnav was beginning to feel extremely warm. "I am who I am," he said with a sense of finality, "but I don't want my wife or children to fear and despise me."

Shyam waited for Arnav to gain back some of his composure. Placing his hand on his shoulder in a supporting gesture he asked: "What makes you think you're like your father?"

When Arnav stared at him incredulously, he continued: "Your father never thought about how his actions affected anyone else, but it seems you're not all like that. Quite the contrary in fact."

When Arnav still looked unconvinced, he continued: "In the six years that I have been married to your sister, I'm aware that you've had at least seven business developers. But you've never physically or emotionally abused any of them. You've always treated them well. All of the relationships were consensual and if my estimation is correct, three of those seven relationships were ended by your partner."

Before Arnav had a chance to respond to Shyam, Anjali's faint voice drifted towards them.

"Your sister is looking for me," he said, getting up and smoothing his backside. "I better see what she wants." Then in an act of brotherly love, he fondly patted Arnav's shoulder and said, "Do think about what I just said," and walked away.

*****

Arnav's cryptic questions about Khushi's life were met with equally cryptic answers from everyone. No one seemed to know what was actually going on in her life. And if people did, they weren't coming forth with the information. He had to find another way to get to the truth. Later. Just as he was making his way to his room to get ready for the pre-launch party, he spotted Khushi Gupta, dressed in white checkered flannel trousers and an off white cardigan, sitting in the hotel's coffee shop feverishly scribbling with her color pencils. Her hair was a mess of curls and Arnav wanted to simply bury his fingers in those unruly curls and smell them. Curbing his fantasy, he walked up to her. She seemed nervous.

"Hi," he said. 

"Hello Arnav," she greeted him without looking up. 

A few of the pencils on the table rolled over and she dipped her head under the table to retrieve them. She was almost about to bang her head on her way out when Arnav blocked the impact with his hand.

"What's wrong?" 

She pointed to the design. He looked at it. She was busy reworking some of the aspects of the finalized design to better fit the model's structure. Arnav smiled. She anticipated issues. That was good. He picked up the black pencil lying next to her and fluidly drew a few lines on the designs. He indicated possible places they could slash or pinch alter the design to fit the model. Khushi looked at him with awe, the ease with which he worked. 

When he looked up, he saw her staring at him. Snapping his fingers to bring her back to reality, he asked once again: "Did you understand what I just did?" She shook her head in affirmative. He placed his pencil back and got up.

Just as he was about to leave a thought struck him. It might be time to call her bluff on this entire charade. "Khushi," he began tentatively, "I need a special dress for a very special friend who will be coming all the way from India to specially attend the launch tonight. I'll send you her measurements. Please have something exquisite sent to my room by 3pm."

*****

"Who's this special friend of Arnav's who's coming for the launch from India?" Khushi was trying to keep her voice as normal as possible. Aman Bansal chuckled. He could feel the undercurrents of her temper.

"Aman," she cajoled. How she sometimes wished men caught on much faster.

"Sheetal. Sheetal Vohra," he said. Chucking her under her chin, he explained, "She is Shyam's Business Partner. Anjali has been trying to matchmake Arnav and her for the longest time."

When Khushi stared at him, he laughed and clarified.

"It was Anjali who invited Sheetal for tonight's function."

But Khushi had already stopped listening. Excusing herself, she slowly made her way to her room. Her thoughts were occupied by this unidentified Sheetal. She was coming all the way from India in the hopes that sparks would fly between her and Arnav. Khushi wasn't going to let that happen if she could help it. Vishal could pick Sheetal's dress and send it to Arnav. She had bigger things to take care of.

*****

The entire team was at the pre-launch party. Investors, designers, collaborators, prominent local and international celebrities, influencers, the media, all were being polite and positive to each other. But the underlying stress was evident.

The party was being hosted at the Baglioni Terrace, at the Baglioni Hotel Carlton in Milan. A semi-open space, the terrace overlooked beautiful jasmine gardens and had a beautiful waterfall feature right where the main stage was set up. The stage extended to a ramp. Guest seating was set up on either side of the ramp. A buffet dinner was being set up on the far side of the terrace while waiters clad in crisp black and white uniforms were passing out red and white wine, water, juice, and appetizers.

Event managers were rushing around whispering commands to each other on their walkie-talkies. Khushi and Vishal were busy getting the models ready. One of the pieces from the Ratna collection as well as Khushi's His and Hers was on display. 

The dressing room was chaotic. Semi-clad models were walking around getting their hair and makeup done. The showstopper, dressed in a baby pink bathrobe was busy smoking her seventh cigarette. Pink curlers adorned her head. The beautician was busy applying and peeling off wax strips from her feet. Khushi was sitting with the seamstresses, for the final tryout and alteration of the clothes. She'd been in the same room for the last five hours, measuring, pinning, getting it stitched, measuring again and pinning again.

"Hi," a voice whispered behind her just as she was about to finish with the last of the clothes.

"Hello," she said, studying her design and the final dress and walking towards the model who would wear it for one last tryout. She draped the model with the costume and absently asked the voice to hold her design clipboard and the box of corsage sewing pins she was carrying around. The voice obliged. She didn't notice that the entire room had stopped to view the scene. She fitted the model, pinched some fabric under her armpits and asked the voice to hand her a pin. The voice obliged. She asked the model to twirl, pinched some fabric at the small of the back and asked for another pin. This went on for a few minutes till the head designer Vishal made his way to Khushi.

"I'm so sorry ASR, I don't think Khushi realized it was you," he began. Arnav waved his hand.

"It's quite alright. I like her dedication."

Just then Khushi turned to thank her voice to find Arnav, clad in a Vantablack three-piece suit. She continued looking at the suit for a while. She couldn't figure out who the designer was.

"It's bespoke from Seville Row in London."

"You always know what I'm thinking," she smiled. "Thank you for assisting me with the costumes."

She was just about to extend her hand when a shrill voice calling out his name caught their attention.

"Arnavvvv..," and a tall girl in her late twenties dressed in a peacock green halter neck gown made her way towards him. "I knew I would find you here," she said, kissing his cheek and then proceeding to rub her lipstick off it. Khushi moved a few steps behind. She looked at Vishal. Sheetal looked gorgeous. And it was all his fault. Unaware of the thoughts running through Khushi's head, Sheetal continued: "This is fabulous. I can't thank Shyam and Anjali enough for inviting me to this."

Turning her attention, she stretched her hands out and said, "Hi, I'm Sheetal Vohra, Shyam Jha's business partner."

Khushi and Vishal shook her hand and introduced themselves and Arnav politely excused the two of them.

*****

"Sheetal Vohra," muttered Khushi under her breath. Khushi had picked a soft pink sari with a white embroidered floral cut out border to wear at the event. She draped it like a gown and accessorized it with long silver earrings and a silver waist belt. Dabbing a liberal amount of rouge to accentuate her cheekbones, she continued to mutter gibberish under her breath. She lined her eyes with kohl and eyeliner and used a blend of golden and silver eyeshadow to highlight her eyes.

Pairing her outfit with silver-colored high heels, she gave herself one last twirl in front of the mirror before stepping out to join the others.

Aman was the first to greet her. "Khushi," he exclaimed. "You look gorgeous!" He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. Getting closer he whispered, "If I didn't know you liked ASR, I would honestly ask you out on a date."

"Thank you," she replied, a faint tint of red coloring her cheeks. "I'll go and check on the dinner arrangements."

Just as Khushi left Aman, Arnav found him. "She's blended in so well with all this. I was so wrong about her. She really is Khushi, spreading happiness wherever she goes!"

Aman turned to ASR and smiled. "Now that you've realized it, what do you plan to do to keep happiness in your life forever?"

"I don't know," he said with a sense of longing. "I wish I did." And then as an afterthought: "I might be already too late."

Aman looked at his friend and colleague, flabbergasted.

"Since when did ASR accept defeat?"

"ASR doesn't deserve Khushi."

"True, but Arnav does. Think about that." Saying, Aman walked away to join Khushi and help her with the arrangements. While Arnav stood staring at Aman's retreating figure, Sheetal looped her hand into his arm and led him towards where the media was waiting for his bytes.