It's time! You're up on stage in five!", the show manager informed a nervous Khushi, who was busy strangling the pallu of her beautiful dark green chiffon Saree.
It was her first fashion show. She and her team had been working towards this day for the past six months. Just two months after her arrival in Goa, and the establishment of her boutique, she had read about this fashion show for promising designers, that was to be held in Goa some six months into the future. She had immediately set to work, and after clearing the selection round which had been judged by some great designers, had started work an her Saree collection.
All nervousness fled, as Khushi felt an amazing sense of accomplishment unfold itself in her bosom as she walked down the ramp with her show stopper. A loud applause from the crowd greeted her as she bowed to them to accept the success of her show...
Arnav downed another shot as he continued to drink into the night.
This had become a daily routine now. He'd work non stop. From dawn till dusk, and then around midnight enter his personal bar in the recesses of his cabin, and drink himself to sleep. Going back home was a rare occasion, that came once or sometimes even twice a month. Social life had contracted to a girth even less than before, and even his Di was not reason enough to return to a home that his wife had left eight months ago.
If Arnav Singh Raizada had been a beast before he had met Khushi, he was now a demented man. People dared not come forth him, speaking was a far fetched idea. He'd fire employees at the drop of an eye, reduce them to tears with his poisonous words, for nothing in specific. Anything and everything annoyed him, and work and alcohol were all that remained in his life.
Anjali had tried to talk to him regarding his situation on several occasions, but to no avail. He had stopped listening to her as well ever since Khushi had left. And minimised conversation. Anjali felt this change deeply, but never complained. She knew he was hurting because Khushi had left. But she couldn't understand him at all. On one hand he had refused to continue to look for her, and on the other hand he now behaved like a man deprived of his life without her.
Arnav wouldn't even speak to his Di now. `Cause Somewhere deep down she was the reason for having driven Khushi away. He was never rude to her, but couldn't love her like before. To safeguard her happiness he had done whatever had occurred eight months ago. And for Anjali's sake, he could never have the happiness of loving and cherishing the person who he longed to hold in his arms every moment of the day. The person he was desperate to have in his life, the person who haunted his days and his nights.
Her fragrance still lingered in his room. That house reminded him of her, of everything he had done to her. Of all the people who were the reason of what he had done it to her. So he wouldn't go back home.
How he wished life was simpler. That he didn't have to be this cruel man who was not strong enough to have the woman that was his life. How he wished she was still around. Was a part of his life. Was still his. How he wished he could caress her long dark hair, run his fingers through her stresses, hear her soft melodious voice whisper his name into his ears. Feel her breath intermingle with his. Love her soft smooth skin. Gaze into her hazel eyes. Love her, protect her. Leave for office every morning reluctantly, knowing that someone would be thinking of him back at home, and then come in early, knowing that there was someone waiting for him. That someone as pure and as innocent as Khushi was his, and only his. That he was the happiest man in this entire world.
But alas, that was not to be. `Cause his life was not simple. It had never been, and it never will. And if there really was a god, he had probably never intended for him to be a happy man.