Chapter 20 #2
Kushal didn’t care. He stood tall, all set to leave.
“You need to appear in court on the date shown in the summons.” He looked directly at her.
“And when you call your friend Miss Kamya Bakshi, the co-conspirator of all this, you tell her that her old friend misses her. And she’d better walk into my office at Verma and Associates to meet me. ”
Noyonika’s mouth dropped open in shock as he knew her confidante’s name. She stared at Kushal, whose expression went icy. “I know it’s Kamya whispering in your ear all along. Now, she too has to answer for it.”
Saying that, he reached out, gently took Arundhati’s hand, and walked to the door while Noyonika’s head bowed. Tears spilled freely now. She grasped the arm of the sofa as her world crashed into helpless reality.
**************
Kushal was still burning with frustration, lost in the aftermath of their confrontation with Noyonika. He didn’t pause until they reached where their sleek black sedan was parked.
Arundhati abruptly halted beside him. He didn’t even realise she had pulled away from his hold until he felt the emptiness of her absence. Turning back toward her, he found her standing stiffly near the car, looking at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re missing her?” she demanded, putting special emphasis on that last word.
It took him a second to understand what she was referring to. The parting words he’d thrown at Noyonika, coaxing her supposed friend Kamya into meeting him. He raked a hand over his temple and let out a slow breath.
“We need her to talk, Aru. That’s why I said it.” He paused. “She needs a reason…something more than just a message to walk into Verma & Associates.”
Anger flared in Arundhati’s gaze. She took a step closer. “So you manipulate her with that? By saying you miss her? Are you seriously using that bullshit right now? Do you even realise what message you’re giving her? What picture are you painting?”
Kushal saw it now, plain as daylight. She wasn’t just angry, she was jealous. She wouldn’t admit it, but her clenched fists and the way her breathing had quickened told him everything he needed to know. He nodded gently.
“I know,” he said, softly. “I chose the wrong words. But I meant nothing else by it.” His hands reached out, gently resting on her arms. “I realise I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”
His apology was shocking.
“Wait. You just said sorry?” She asked in disbelief. “Kushal Nair… saying ‘sorry’ to me? Where’s that ego of yours? Took a vacation?”
He took a step forward, closing the gap between them, until their bodies nearly touched. “My ego’s very much intact,” he said. “But I’ve realised… when it comes to us, the farther I keep it, the better things are. You matter more than that ego, Aru.”
The sincerity in his words landed deep, stirring something in her that she hadn’t been ready to feel again.
“Don’t you think you’re being… unusually vocal these days? Heart-to-heart talk, confessions, and all? When have you ever done that before?”
Kushal slid a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her temple. “What can I say? My partner isn’t the most talkative, nor good at expressing what she feels. So, someone has to speak for both of us.”
Heat pooled in her veins again as his gaze dropped to her lips, hungry and hopeful. Her own lips parted again in response when a voice shattered their moment.
“Sir—Ma’am?”
Kushal clenched his jaw in sheer irritation as Vivek approached, clearly oblivious to the proximity he had just disturbed. Arundhati took a quick step back, smoothing her expression.
“What?”
Vivek offered a quick, apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt. Just… a reminder. Your flight’s in a couple of hours. Unless, of course, you’re thinking of extending your stay?”
Arundhati recovered faster. “Thanks for the reminder, Vivek. But we’re leaving today.”
Kushal watched her with conflicted longing. He didn’t argue. She was right. They had to return to Delhi. Work awaited. So did their separate homes. But his chest ached at the thought. After three nights by her side, the idea of sleeping in silence again felt almost unbearable.
As they settled into the car, he stole one last glance at her. She was staring ahead, jaw set. But he knew one thing. Deep down, this distance they were walking into wasn’t going to be easy for her either. Although she wasn’t ready to admit just how much it would hurt.
****************
In an hour, Arundhati and Kushal had returned to their rooms, packed their bags and checked out of the resort like two professionals on a tight schedule.
The receptionist had once again smiled too long at Kushal, but this time, Arundhati didn’t even react.
She was too lost in her own head. And he noticed that too.
By the time they were seated on the flight back to Delhi, side by side in the business class cabin, the tension between them grew. It felt like something unfinished had followed them from Dalhousie and now refused to be zipped into a suitcase.
Kushal stared at the magazine from the seat pocket before him.
He needed a distraction…anything that wasn’t the memory of Arundhati’s breathless gasps under his touch, or the touch of her lips against his chest from last night, that he’d memorized like scripture.
How was he supposed to live without her after that?
He flipped through the glossy pages aimlessly. A celebrity interview. A travel feature on Prague. A tech ad. Then, his eyes paused as he saw a random article on the next page.
‘How Celibacy Impacts Women’s Hormonal Balance: The Unspoken Side of Prolonged Abstinence’
It was a half-page health piece, complete with clinical notes, laced with suggestive undertones and a moody photo of a woman biting her lip as if on the edge of losing her sanity…or control.
Kushal exhaled a short, silent laugh. He didn’t even realise his hand moved until the magazine was halfway toward her.
Arundhati, who’d been staring out the window pretending the world didn’t exist, turned slowly to him. He held out the magazine, gesturing for her to look at the page with an innocent expression.
“I thought you’d be interested in this,” he said smoothly.
Her eyes flicked to the page, immediately taking in the headline before narrowing.
When she lifted her gaze to him again, he grinned.
“I meant the one above that,” he added, without skipping a beat. “It’s about vitamin deficiencies and their effect on... memory recall.”
She looked at him, deadpanned, knowing he was lying now. He did mean to show her that celibacy article only.
He cleared his throat. “Just thought it was... informative.”
She arched one perfect brow, clearly unimpressed. “Hmm. Sounds like something you might suffer from.”
“Oh, I don’t forget things, Aru,” he said, voice dipping just slightly. “Especially not the things I’ve touched... tasted... or made moan my name.”
Her breath caught for half a second before she tilted her head and gave him a cool glance. “I didn’t moan your name last night.”
Kushal didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned in so close that his lips nearly brushed the shell of her ear. His cologne wrapped around her, once again, dark and addictive.
“You did,” he whispered. “Twice.”
Her pulse spiked. She hated how easily he could rattle her calm with just words and that velvet voice.
“And the second time,” he murmured, “you said it like it was the only word you remembered. Like it was the only thing tethering you to this earth.” He paused, then added slower, “Your nails were on my back. Your thighs were wrapped around me. And your lips…” he paused again to swallow, as he recalled the flashes of last night…
“your lips trembled before you even said it.”
She swallowed hard, the memory coming back in flashes even to her…his mouth, his hands, the fire he’d lit in her without even needing to try.
Kushal smirked again, watching the way her eyes darted back to the window, desperately seeking escape.
“I could remind you,” he said softly, “if you need a memory refresh. But I’m warning you, it won’t be just twice next time.”
Arundhati didn’t say anything. She shut the magazine quietly and handed it back to him without looking at his face.
She knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to bait her into reacting. Stirring the silence. Flirting without saying the word. And still, all she could do was stare at the endless blue outside the window and pretend she wasn’t replaying every second of Dalhousie in her mind.
The blindfold. Them making out. His voice promising her the stars and the damn Milky Way.
Ignoring what had happened between them wasn’t an option anymore.
The question was…what came next?
****************
Delhi – Arundhati’s Apartment
It was close to midnight when Arundhati finally stepped into her apartment. Although Kushal had said he would drop her off at her home, she insisted on taking her own cab. He hadn’t argued. He’d simply nodded and waited until she drove away from the cab.
Now back home, she stepped under the shower, letting the warm stream run over her skin. But even the water couldn’t wash away the pull in her chest. The ache of wanting him close again.
When she stepped out, wrapped in her robe and towel-dried hair clinging to her neck, her bedroom felt foreign. It lacked something, or rather someone.
She shook her head, mentally scolding herself, and walked to her bags. Time to unpack. Time to move forward. Her house help was still there, finishing up some final cleaning. As Arundhati opened the suitcase and began sorting clothes, the help paused at the doorway.
“Didi, do you want help with the laundry?”
“Just these travel outfits,” Arundhati replied, pulling out a few pieces. “Send them tomorrow morning. I won’t have time during the week. Work’s going to get crazy again.”
The helper nodded and stepped forward to collect the clothes. Her eyes widened slightly at the dresses.
“These are beautiful, Didi. Haven’t seen these before.”
Arundhati gave a small, absent smile. “There were a few events at the resort. I had to buy these from the resort’s boutique itself.”
She reached into her bag again and pulled out the golden-beige saree, the one she’d worn with Kushal for the Lord Shiva temple. And there it was…
The stain.
A small, blurred streak of vermillion right where the pallu met the border, a mark left behind when Kushal had filled her hairline in that temple.
The house help noticed it too. “This one also for laundry?”
Arundhati clutched the saree tighter to her chest. “No,” she said quickly, almost sharply.
“But Didi, it has a stain here… it should be washed off.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, that’s okay. You go.”
The woman didn’t question further, simply nodded and stepped out.
Left alone, Arundhati sat on the bed, the saree clutched in her arms. A hundred moments flashed through her mind again.
God, she was in trouble.
Because a part of her wasn’t ready to let any of it go. Not the saree. Not the stain. And definitely not the man who had left that mark on her heart long before the Sindoor touched her skin.