FLASHBACK
A worried Aman had stepped inside Shantivan, not before gently guiding a limp Anjali aside before he could run to his boss. The romantic in Khushi had jumped with glee when she noticed the tenderness Aman nursed for Anjali, and the silent reciprocation Anjali showed in the form of the rouge tinge on her cheeks.
Khushi clapped in glee, along with Mami - who had ended up being her confidante. As Mami lost herself in dreams of Anjali’s remarriage, Khushi raced to her husband to prepare him for good news but what she heard, froze her heart.
“Sir… it’s bad news. Shyam’s name has,”
“Affected the company, I know. But how much?” Arnav cut him off, his back taut with tension.
“It’s not only that sir. Your recent absence in business due to fam… pressing matters has allowed others to spring up. The designs were termed as stale and stocks have, I mean even the recent recession is to be cons…” Aman stopped as Arnav raised his hand slightly.
“In one sentence Aman.”
“AR is sinking.”
A gasp left Khushi’s mouth as she leaned against the door. What? When… but how? Didn’t Arnav’s business always thrum with succ…
Her words ceased as it dawned to her that Khushi truly knew nothing when it came to business. Or her husband. Yet the balled fists told her that the news simply shattered him as well.
“Send Akash to the States. I’ll look after Asia and Europe. Aman, you take a look on Middle East - especially the GCC. Am I…”
“Perfectly clear sir.” Aman smiled slightly. After a decade of working with this man, Aman knew the slight vulnerability behind the strict orders. Passing a soft pat to a surprised Arnav’s shoulder, Aman said “All’s not lost ASR. We’re expected in Paris this year and I don’t have to say who who will be there.”
Arnav sent a curt nod, his eyes closing briefly as he sensed Khushi nearby.
“You don’t have to take this too seriously. I am f…” His words stopped as his young wife gently cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Making him sit on the recliner, she gently took his arm and inserted a quick shot of insulin before she gave him his snacks.
Arnav smiled briefly, taking a bite of the toast as he noted the unnamed strength in her eyes when she had inserted the injection before. This was the same wife who used to hide her head and require consolation every single time he jabbed himself.
Touching his hand briefly, she looked into his eyes. Gone were her baby fears for him. Arnav tugged Khushi towards his lap, digging his face into her chest as he broke down in her arms. Khushi pressed a kiss on his head, wordlessly. She knew that AR was everything for Arnav.
Every single thing.
“AR will be fine Arnavji.” She whispered as her husband clung tighter, expressing his fear. From then on, Khushi vowed to exchange her strength for his fears. A day later, Arnav found himself in the business class of flight with Khushi next to him - en route to Paris. Her hand was wrapped tightly with his and he knew it was nothing to do with her flying for the first time.
She was with him.
And that’s all he needed.
Khushi forego her duties of a Raizada bahu for she knew when her husband required her. She might not be an asset professionally but she knew that he needed someone to be with him - no matter what else his words may say.
“I’m glad I’m coming with you to Paris.” She tried to giggle to dissolve the tense air around him. It worked, at least for a moment as her husband flashed her a soft smile and prodded her why.
“Cause at such a tense situation if you turned to Amanji instead of me, then I would have certainly got a heart attack!” Khushi pointed to the movie, Dostana, playing on screen and chuckled as her husband’s soft smile grew into a laugh.
As she later saw her husband sleeping in their hotel room, after several blackmails from her end to take rest, Khushi sat up on the bed and thought. She had had a word with Aman and realised that the situation at AR was more grave than she had imagined. Being the daughter of a middle class halwai - if there was anything she had learnt, then it was how to save money.
It had been difficult for Khushi to push Arnav into selling his private jet and stop him from renting the usual Presidential Suite for the two of them, but not impossible. Arnav was lavish, but not stupid. So when Khushi had formed her arguments with logical backing, Arnav found himself agreeing with her.
Looking down at her bare waist to find a tanned arm wrapped around it. Khushi pressed a soft kiss at her jet lagged husband who snored peacefully. Then and there Khushi made another vow to walk beside him instead of behind him.
“Has the drowning status of AR affected the Raizada’s lavish lifestyle as well? Sources say that you have sold your private jet and have travelled in business class this time round. Also they say that you have skipped your usual Presidential Suite this time round.” Khushi worriedly looked from the private line towards Arnav who sat on a table, opposite the crowd of journalists before him at the press conference.
Arnav let out a soft chuckle and held the mike “Someone very wise said that if you buy things you do not need, soon you will have to sell things that you need. Warren Buffett by the way.” He paused for the hush hush of agreement and continued “You see, I simply am in the process in living the life of a common man. And currently the money invested in frivolous luxuries are being invested with those who need it the most, they may be termed as special or unfortunate… but simply with them. And as far as AR is concerned, what’s the fun in a tide if it doesn’t rise and fall… to rise again?”
Pride glowered in Khushi’s heart as she heard further meticulous and witty yet sincere answers drop from her husband’s mouth. For not a second could she see the vulnerable man who was in her arms and she prayed to her Goddess that may she never have to see that sight again.
“But what’s the use of our culture if we simply can’t bring in the difference and uniqueness no one could ever can!” Khushi piped up while a few heads turned towards her - two being of her slightly annoyed husband and Salvadero, the Italian fashion Mogul himself.
Salvadero had often been touted as the father of twenty first century fashion and his ears perked up by what the young wife of a new fashion tycoon had to say. Difference, he liked that. Also… Khushi had resembled his dear dead mother to a startling extent.
“ASR, your wife may be one of the biggest reasons why I sign the deal today.” He winked at an embarrassed Khushi and a jubilant Arnav.
“Arnavji!” Khushi squealed, her cheeks high in color as Arnav picked her up and twirled her in their room. “Pehla pehla pyaar hai… pehli pehli baar hai.” A shocked Khushi looped her arms around his neck. “When did you learn this song?”
“You see…” Arnav brushed his nose against hers “I happen to have a wife who loves a certain Khan to such an extent that she watches Hum Aapke Hai Kaun a million times in front of her bored husband.” He chuckled as she slapped his chest slightly.
“I’m just joking, but yes… you’re my love!” Arnav yelled while Khushi blushed and urged to be put down. Taking the bottle of champagne away from his hand, an overjoyed Khushi felt tears pool in her eyes on seeing the glowing face of her husband’s.
AR had begun to rise with its association with Salvadero.
“You know Khushi… all these make such a huge difference during the deal. The way one talks, presents…” Khushi listened on with rapt attention as her husband taught her the little details of the fashion world. Her disgust for an all pretense ended as her admiration for the act begun.
Later that night, as lay comfortably snuggled on his chest, Khushi vowed against to help his dreams come true - no matter what.
But not all men saw her like their dead mother.
The earlier Khushi who would have created a scene at a subtle flirt accepted the lines towards her with a soft charm if that meant a stronger relation for the deal to succeed. A part of Arnav had been worried and angered when he saw potential clients throw glances of admiration at his ever beautiful Khushi, but Khushi’s tactful responses swelled pride in him.
Khushi had turned into an asset for Arnav. It hadn’t been a one day miracle for AR but people were soon gossiping about the mysterious, young wife Arnav had. The first lady of AR - a few termed. Slowly Arnav began to depend on his wife’s charms at deal proceedings because if Arnav knew anything - it was persuasion… if his wife knew anything - it was tact.
And that latter gained more responses than persuasion when AR was facing its low.
Disgust often seared through Khushi when one lingered on to her for a moment more than the discussion required, yet when her subtle acceptance led to Arnav bagging the deal - she couldn’t refuse to step down from the faux pedestal she had created for herself.
From beginning to have minute discussions on her own to learning AR’s intricacies herself, people often said that ASR thought and Mrs. ASR sealed. The higher the stakes, the bolder the advances, the lesser she told her husband.
She knew her possessive man, he would give up the world for her.
But the little slaps of reality had nibbled off the damsel in distress. She could not jeopardize AR’s future for her own insecurities or fear. Hadn’t she managed to keep that man’s hand gliding only on her arm during the dance? Hadn’t she quietly stopped the welcoming kiss on her cheek move on to her lips.
Her hawk eyed husband wasn’t blind, but she never showed any discomfort either.
Another year rolled by and AR had climbed on the ladders once more, where everyone knew that to get a humble recognition from AR one had to appease the Lady first - then the man. And Arnav had sickeningly forgotten to stand on his own.
He loved it, that his wife was his partner - his better half, in all sense. So when she had requested to carry out the deals all alone while he would look into the nitty gritties of AR, he had readily obliged within a second thought.
How else could Khushi stop Arnav from ruining his hard work solely for protecting his wife?
The touches she felt dared to go till her back, hips and waist. The proximity was closer than required. Yet all knew that she was faithful to her Arnav. Yet all knew that none could fool her.
None could actually lay with Mrs. ASR.
But it ate the little girl in her. The alcohol that started as a status symbol now revolved as her dependence. The fear of her husband misjudging her small sacrifices for him in the name of characterless bore through her soul. However, every time the stocks shot up, every time AR launched another branch - Khushi knew she wasn’t wrong.
One day another fashion Mogul - the one that the world revolved by - kissed her cheek goodnight and drove her to her hotel, not missing to hug her extra tight before she was dropped, when she noticed Arnav stare at them through the window.
Fear crept through her system. Was she characterless? Did she become a prostitute? But she had never allowed a man to kiss her, forget sleeping with them! A petrified Khushi went to her room, braving a smile as she slipped out of her heels and jewelry. Arnav eyed her, half listening to what Aman had to say on the other end.
The deal had been sealed.
Arnav Singh Raizada would truly be a name to reckon with… throughout the world.
Khushi was ready for the yells, screams, fight or even… her thoughts came to a stop as Arnav swallowed tightly and unclipped her styled hair. “This world is crazy Khushi… it will, it will suck you. Don’t get into,” Khushi stopped Arnav as she hugged him tight, the relief of her husband’s soothing arms after those men’s eyes.
“I can protect myself Arnav. Fashion world was never as clean as a little sweet shop.” Khushi chuckled as her husband swooped down to kissed the faint bit of vermillion in her hair, tightening his grip around her. A part of Khushi knew that Arnav would simply pull her out of it all.
She accepted with defeat, things were way too murky for her to live - no matter the act she put up. AR was something that even she couldn’t leave… but she didn’t necessarily have to schmooze around anymore.
“Khushi,” Khushi waited for her husband to dismiss her from discussing future deals when he softly cupped her cheek and said “Thank you.”
A part of Khushi died… then and there.
Her Arnav didn’t forbid her… but didn’t he know that she had lied when she said she could protect herself? Didn’t he know that it was battle every single time? Didn’t… didn’t he simply know?
A broken Khushi simply held on to Arnav as he treated her like the Sun of his Universe.
When Arnav had placed himself in the crook of her neck, his faith in her moved her to take another vow - that she would do anything to keep the company where it was today.
And for the first time Khushi had cried to sleep.
That was how it had been, ever since.
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Shot 3
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