Chapter 10 #2
Kushal stood rooted to the spot, his hand closing slowly into a fist where her warmth had lingered a second ago.
No matter how fiercely she said it, he would still wait.
Not because he was patient.
Not because he was noble.
But because waiting for her was stitched into the very fibre of who he was.
Some wars are won simply by refusing to leave the battlefield. And when it came to her, leaving had never even been on the table.
****************
Around 2:30 a.m., the last guest finally left Raj Verma’s grand villa. Only three people remained now—Raj, Arundhati, and Kushal. Raj, a little tipsy but still coherent, looked between the two and grinned lazily.
“Why don’t you both stay here tonight?” he suggested, his voice slurring slightly.
Arundhati opened her mouth to refuse. Every instinct in her wanted to get away from Kushal. But she was bone-tired. The thought of driving back at this hour felt unbearable. A part of her reasoned it was just practical to stay.
She nodded reluctantly.
The moment she agreed, Kushal’s voice followed. “I’ll stay too.”
That shocked her. Her eyes snapped to him, momentarily betraying her surprise. She remembered him telling her during their short-lived marriage that he couldn’t sleep properly anywhere except his own home. Not in hotels, not at relatives’ places. Home was his sanctuary.
And yet he agreed tonight.
She knew why.
He was desperate to talk to her. Desperate enough to sacrifice even his precious peace for a shot at one conversation.
Raj’s eyes twinkled at them both. “Good. Good,” he said, clapping his hands together once. “Feels like old times.”
He swayed slightly and added, “Aru, show Kushal the guest room, will you?”
“Not needed,” she said, brushing invisible lint off her saree. “His memory is too sharp. He knows where it is.”
Kushal’s lips curved in a slow smirk. “Next to your bedroom,” he said smoothly.
Her cheeks flamed, but she refused to react.
Except for one reckless second, an old memory blindsided her.
She remembered the last time they had stayed here, during their marriage, months ago, when everything between them was still raw, but not yet broken.
Kushal had been restless that night too, struggling to sleep in a new bed, in a new house. When she had turned over in the middle of the night, she’d caught him wide awake, sitting up, just watching her sleeping form.
At first, she’d felt deeply embarrassed.
She had always hated how she looked when she slept, sometimes her lips parted slightly, seeking extra breath, her face completely vulnerable in ways she could never control.
It had mortified her, the idea that this was the version of herself her husband was quietly admiring.
Mumbling awkwardly, she’d joked that he must be regretting his marriage if this was what he had to wake up to.
But Kushal...
God, Kushal had just smiled that rare, boyish smile, the one he showed no one else, and said something she had never forgotten:
“If this is what regret looks like, Aru, I hope I never sleep again.”
The words had taken her breath away.
Sensing how overwhelmed she was, he’d chuckled lightly, kissed her forehead, and whispered,
“I’ll move to the guest room. You sleep in peace.”
And just like that, he had picked up some random files and quietly slipped out, choosing to let her rest, even when all he wanted was to stay close.
Now, blinking the memory away ruthlessly, Arundhati simply leaned in and kissed her uncle’s cheek, murmured another “Happy Birthday,” and without sparing Kushal a single glance, turned and walked away.
Raj chuckled, watching her go. “What now? Want me to escort you to the guest room, too?”
Kushal shook his head, slipping off his jacket casually. “No. I’m going to drop you off to yours first. You do look like you need help.”
Raj laughed. “I don’t usually drink this much,” he said, walking with a slight stagger as Kushal guided him toward his bedroom. “But tonight… the occasion…”
“Your birthday,” Kushal supplied.
Raj shook his head slowly. “No, my boy. Not just that. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I saw something in Aru’s eyes when she looked at you.”
Kushal froze mid-step. His fingers, which had been loosely supporting Raj, tightened slightly.
Raj patted his shoulder affectionately. “There’s still so much feeling in her. Too hurt, perhaps. She won’t easily give anyone a second chance. Especially you.”
Feelings! Arundhati still had feelings for him? He had convinced himself over time that whatever they’d shared was too damaged to salvage. But Raj’s words cracked something tonight.
Raj smiled a little sadly and went on, “She’s always been like that, even as a child.
Once something wounds her... she doesn’t go back to it.
I remember when she was little, she was crazy about her bicycle.
Would ride it around the garden for hours, grinning like it was her whole world.
But then one day, she fell. Hurt her knee so badly, she couldn’t walk properly for weeks.
Had to miss school, stayed cooped up at home, furious and heartbroken. ”
Raj sighed softly, “And after that? She never touched that bicycle again. Never even looked at it. Just left it to rust under the old neem tree. That’s Aru for you. Once something breaks her trust, breaks her spirit... she won’t give it a second chance. Not easily.”
It was now that Kushal realised Arundhati’s refusal to give second chances wasn’t born from pride. It was part of her very nature.
Raj continued, “Remember one thing, Kushal, where there’s this much anger, this much hatred...” he chuckled, “It only means there was once a love even greater than this.”
Kushal’s throat closed painfully at the simplicity of it. Raj made it sound so easy, so black and white. But he knew the tangled mess between him and Arundhati was much more than that. Still, if there was even a crack in her armour... he had to reach it.
He had masked his side of the story for too long. Hidden behind arrogance. Hidden behind silence. Tonight, he didn’t want to hide anymore. Even if he had been wrong. Even if she shredded him with her words. He needed her to know.
Raj must have seen the war in Kushal’s eyes because he smiled again. “I know you’ll use all your mastermind tactics to make her listen. Let’s see if my Aru gives in.”
Kushal smiled wryly. “I hope she listens to what I have to say. She’s tested my patience enough.”
He opened the door to Raj’s bedroom and helped him inside. Raj muttered a fond “Goodnight” before collapsing onto the bed, already half-asleep.
Kushal shut the door softly behind him, making his way out toward the guest room, situated right next to Arundhati’s. Just a wall separating them tonight, not two practically different homes distanced by time and feelings.
Inside, he tossed his suit jacket onto a chair and tugged his tie loose, letting it fall carelessly.
The tension he’d been holding onto all day finally clawed its way to the surface.
Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he exhaled hard.
How the hell was he supposed to sleep knowing she was so close?
Knowing that just a few feet away, Arundhati was probably pacing, or maybe curled up on her bed, trying just as hard to forget he existed?
She wasn’t just close physically tonight, she was close enough to touch, to talk to, if only she would let him.
For months now, she’d been out of reach.
A locked fortress of anger and disappointment.
And he… he hadn’t done much to change that either.
Maybe too caught up in his own pride. Maybe too afraid of hearing her final rejection aloud.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, he wasn’t going to rely on their bruised egos or sharp defences. Tonight, he was ready to strip it all down and finally face her, not as adversaries, not as estranged partners, but as two people who once wanted to love each other enough and promised forever.
Whether she wanted to listen or not… he had to try.
Dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed, Kushal leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face, thinking hard for no idea how long.
***************
Meanwhile, inside her room, Arundhati was equally restless. She had thought about changing out of the saree, but the thought of removing it, the very saree Kushal had helped her drape just hours ago, stirred a storm of emotions inside her.
Needing a distraction, she decided to find something to eat. Maybe food would help chase away these thoughts.
She padded in the kitchen silently, barefoot, her silk saree swishing with every step. The night had drained her, but there was one thing she still needed—cake.
She opened the fridge and sighed in relief, seeing one last piece of chocolate truffle. Victory.
But just as she reached for it, another hand appeared beside hers.
Kushal stood there, leaning slightly, still in his black shirt, with the top two buttons undone, but the jacket and tie long discarded.
He looked annoyingly hot even at this hour, his shirt sleeves rolled up, wrist veins prominent, eyes sharp despite the fatigue.
There was always something unfair about how effortlessly attractive he looked.
She swallowed tightly, furious at herself more than him.
Ever since that damn saree draping incident, she hadn’t been the same.
All these months, she had managed to put distance between them, keeping everything contained, curbed, tightly bottled.
No lingering glances, no softened stares. Just cold silences.
But tonight, everything she thought she had killed inside her had risen again with a vengeance.
It wasn’t just the way his hands had brushed her skin when draping her saree.
It wasn’t just the way he had called her ‘Aru’ like it still meant something.
It was his desperation. His persistence.
The way he looked at her now, as if she mattered.
Not just for some throne at Verma & Associates.
But for herself.