Chapter 16 #2
Arundhati stepped out of the resort lobby while talking to the receptionist, when Kushal saw her and was awestruck. He hadn’t expected her to wear a saree. The golden-beige saree was plain but radiant, with just enough shimmer to catch the morning light. It clung and flowed at all the right places.
He leaned casually against the rental car he’d arranged for their drive to the ancient Shiva temple, but the moment he saw her, for a second, he forgot to breathe.
She was still talking, nodding along as the receptionist reminded her about the evening’s event for honeymooning couples. He didn’t hear the words. He just watched his wife, who was unaware that she captured his heart with every single look of hers.
When she finally walked up to the car, her eyes met his. She saw his appreciative look, lingering longer than it needed to. Naturally, she expected something. A word. A compliment. Even a teasing line, anything to acknowledge the effect she clearly had on him.
But he said nothing.
He merely opened the car door for her and stepped back, as though she were wearing nothing special. As though he hadn’t just been staring.
Her pride took a hit.
She got in without a word, even though part of her wanted to ask why.
Why the silence now, when yesterday he had no trouble voicing every thought about her nightie or that poolside moment when his flirting had barely disguised the hunger in his eyes?
But now… he was back to being that version of Kushal, the one she had known in Delhi. Cool and distant.
Urgh, she thought, crossing her legs and looking out the window.
The silence stretched between them like a third presence in the car.
The drive wound through the pine-scented air of Dalhousie, the roads snaking around misty cliffs and stretches of forest. The view outside was breathtaking, but her thoughts wouldn’t let her enjoy it.
She kept stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye, watching the way he handled the car over the curves of the mountain roads.
He'd worn a black shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a generous stretch of chest and just enough skin to distract her further.
Sunglasses on. Sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms, his thick fingers steady on the steering wheel, the other hand resting casually on his thigh. God help her.
That’s when Kushal finally broke the silence.
“You okay?” he asked without looking at her.
She cleared her throat quickly. “Yes. Why?”
“You’ve been clearing your throat a lot,” he said, glancing at her over his sunglasses, just the barest hint of a smirk forming. “Not sure if that’s a habit or a cry for help.”
She gave him a sharp look. “I’m fine.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve got cough lozenges in the glovebox, if you need one. They clear the throat… permanently.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just drive, Kushal.”
He didn’t reply, just turned his gaze back to the road, hiding his lopsided smug smile.
And Arundhati? She bit the inside of her cheek, pretending to look out the window again. Pretending her heart hadn’t just skipped a beat for no good reason.
As soon as they reached the temple, Arundhati felt that hush in the air, like the place had been frozen in time. The grounds were nearly deserted. Except for a few distant figures immersed in quiet prayer, there was something undeniably sacred about it.
It was colder here than she expected, the wind biting at her arms. She realised with a grimace that she’d left her jacket in the car. Kushal hadn’t brought one either, but in the case of Kushal, with the kind of heat he radiates, even the breeze would melt before it reached his skin.
God, how many times was she going to swoon internally over this man’s absurd hotness? It was becoming a full-time mental hobby these days. Irritated with herself, she walked alongside him, pretending the chill didn’t bother her, pretending he didn’t either.
They passed beneath a low stone arch into the heart of the temple grounds when he spoke. “My dad brought my mom here. During their honeymoon.”
She stopped in her tracks, surprised. He noticed and turned toward her, nodding.
“Yes,” he said. “Dalhousie was where they came for their honeymoon. And if you’re not going to laugh at me for it, I’ll admit... I’m a honeymoon baby.”
“Seriously?” she almost laughed. “You? A honeymoon baby? The man who’s practically famous for grooming his attitude all the time? You do know, right, it’s a saying that honeymoon babies are the most romantic ones in their lives, too.”
He stepped closer and pulled her toward him.
“Look who’s talking about romantic traits?” he asked. “The woman who’s practically famous for her ego touch-up all the time.”
She frowned, pushing against his chest. “Whatever! This isn’t about us, Kushal. You were talking about your parents. Finish that.”
He exhaled and took a step back, shrugging off the moment. “They were childhood sweethearts for years before they got married. Hence, after their marriage, they hurried to start a family. They didn’t want to wait.”
Arundhati listened, more invested than she expected. He hadn’t spoken much about his parents during their marriage, certainly not with this kind of openness.
“That’s sweet,” she murmured.
“What’s sweeter,” he said, glancing toward the temple steps, “is that they made a wish here. Right here. And it came true.”
That caught her attention. Her eyes widened slightly as she followed his gaze toward the small, ancient temple surrounded by tall pines. He began walking again, and she moved beside him, hanging on his words.
“This is one of the oldest temples dedicated to Lord Shiva in the region,” he continued. “They say couples come here to make a wish. And if your heart is in it, Lord Shiva never says no.”
She stopped again, watching him carefully. “Then you’ve brought me to the wrong place,” she replied. “You already know what I want.”
Pain flickered in his eyes.
“No,” he whispered. “You think you know what you want. But it’s not what you really want.”
She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the rising warmth in her chest. “Is that so? Since you apparently know my heart better than I do, why don’t you tell me what I should ask for, Kushal?”
Without replying, he gently turned her toward the inner sanctum of the temple where the Shiva idol stood, cloaked in marigolds and incense smoke.
“Just close your eyes,” he said, standing close behind her, his lips brushing the edge of her ear, “and you’ll know.”
She closed her eyes, just as he asked.
And the moment she did, the only thing that flashed in her mind, the only image her heart offered, was him. Kushal. Again and again.
Only him.
He appeared not as one memory, but as dozens…
rushing in all at once, crashing through the barricades she had carefully built inside herself.
She saw the fragments of their life together like flashes of light behind closed lids.
She saw him leaning over the stove, asking if she liked the way he chopped vegetables.
Their hands brushing as they set the table.
The quiet glances across the dinner plates.
She saw the soft touches…on her lower back, on her cheek, the way his fingers used to tuck her hair behind her ears when she was flustered.
The desperate kisses in the hallway after long, stupid fights.
The whispered apologies between them. The way he spooned her in bed, his arms tightly around her, like she was the one anchor he couldn’t let go of.
And then there was now—his confession of wanting a second chance, his flirting in Dalhousie, the way he ended up in her bed twice. There was Kushal and only Kushal in all those flashbacks.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t move to stop them. She couldn’t!
And then she felt his touch. Not on her face. Not on her shoulder. But along the parting of her hair.
Her eyes flew open as she met his gaze. Kushal’s fingers lingered just above her forehead, coated with red. He had filled her maang (forehead partition) with the temple’s sindoor.
Arundhati stared at him, her heart thundering, and her eyes wide. He didn’t explain. He didn’t ask her what she’d seen during prayer. He didn’t need to.
Because he already knew.
It had been him. Him and only him.
Still stunned, she reached up and touched her hairline, her fingers brushing the fresh streak of vermillion. She looked down at his hand, still dusted with red, and then, without a word, turned and walked out of the temple.
He followed her.
“Aru,” he called. “Stop.”
She stopped just beyond the temple steps, arms crossed tightly around her chest, defensive as always.
“What’s wrong?” he asked reaching closer.
“What’s wrong?” she echoed bitterly. “Are you serious right now? You really don’t see what’s wrong with this?” Her finger jabbed toward her forehead. “You made that choice for me, Kushal. You decided something sacred without even asking.”
He didn’t flinch. “What’s wrong with it? Technically, you’re still my wife, Aru.”
“In two weeks, we have our next divorce hearing!”
“So?” he shot back. “Even if that hearing were today, even if the judge declared us divorced this morning, I would still do the same thing. I meant what I said. I want a second chance. I said it out loud. I owned it. But you? You’re hiding behind your anger, your pride, your goddamn stubborn silence. ”
She stared at him, fury rippling off her. “You think I’m hiding feelings for you?”
He stepped closer. “Yes, you are. You want me too. Your tears in that temple said everything. But you’re too wrapped up in your pride to admit it. Or maybe,” his voice lowered, “you’ve already admitted it to yourself, but you don’t have the courage to say it aloud.”
Her glare deepened. She opened her mouth to answer, to scream, but the sharp ring of her phone cut through the tension. She yanked it out, answering with irritation. “Yes, Akash?”
She turned away from Kushal, wiping her tears roughly, while pressing the speaker button so Kushal could hear it too. They had received the call records of Noyonika from Kushal’s source in the morning and had promptly sent them to Akash for analysis.
Akash’s voice crackled through. “Got the analysis done on the call records Kushal Sir forwarded. There’s no link between Noyonika and Sadhna. There are no calls placed that prove Sadhna had asked Noyonika to set up that media ambush.”
Kushal barely reacted, still fuming over their earlier argument. But Arundhati gave a curt nod, trying to absorb the news.
Akash continued, “But… there’s something else. Noyonika’s call history shows repeated contact with someone else. Almost eighteen calls over the last month.”
Arundhati and Kushal exchanged a glance, brows furrowed.
“From whom?” she asked.
Akash hesitated a moment.
“Kamya. Kamya Bakshi.”
Both of them froze.
Kamya?
What did Kamya have to do with Noyonika?
She had come between them once before, and now, again, somehow, she was in the middle of everything. It always came back to her.
Kushal swallowed hard as he muttered a quick thank-you to Akash before ending the call.
Arundhati stepped closer, frustration radiating from every inch of her.
“You want me to stop hiding my feelings?” she snapped.
“How am I supposed to do that when pieces of your past…chapters you never properly closed…keep showing up and messing with my present? Your Kamya is back. And this time, she’s meddling in our case. ”
She turned to leave, her body tense with the urge to walk away, to shut it all down again. But Kushal reached out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back firmly.
“She is not ‘mine.’ You are.”
She froze.
He stepped even closer, his grip tightening just enough to hold her there.
“Kamya and I were never a thing,” he continued. “I haven’t spent a fraction of the time with her that I’ve spent with you. Don’t use her name as a shield to protect your ego or to justify your fear of giving us another shot.”
Arundhati’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
“And if she is involved in this case, we deal with it, Aru. Like partners. Together. Not by turning away the moment things get messy.”
He let go of her arm, and stepping back, he headed toward the car, already pulling out his phone. There was no time to waste. He needed answers.
And by tomorrow, he’d get them.
Noyonika would have to tell him exactly what Kamya Bakshi had to do with any of this.