Khushi: Arnav, you have to eat!
She protested as he rolled toward the living room.
Arnav: I don't have to do anything...
He replied without a backward glance. Khushi started to follow him, and then sat back in her chair. Their somewhat embittered discussion had stolen her appetite, too. It revealed so much of the frustration they had known in the past year since the engine of Arnav's plane had failed on takeoff from a friend's ranch and he had crashed.
Her own father had been killed in an air crash of a private plane, which Khushi had survived. The memory of that had been vivid when Khushi had flown to somewhere, uncertain whether Arnav would be dead or alive when she arrived.
Even when she got there, it was days before the doctors felt confident about his recovery. Their immediate concern had been stopping the internal bleeding and making the necessary repairs to keep him alive.
The operation to relieve the pressure on the main nerve trunk to his legs had been too delicate and complicated to attempt in his critical and weakened condition following the crash, so the decision had been made to wait until he had recovered his strength before attempting it.
At the time, Khushi had been too grateful to have him alive to risk losing him on the operating table, so she had agreed with the medical opinion.
Given a second chance, Khushi knew she would make the same decision. The operation to relieve the pressure had been performed only a short time ago. It was successful to the point that he now had some feeling in his legs, although he hadn't regained the use of them. That, the doctors felt, would depend on the body's healing process, which required time and hope.
For Arnav, hope was becoming threadbare from overuse. He could no longer hold on to it with any certainty that it would be fulfilled.
After being an invalid for nearly a year, his patience was gone. He had expected immediate results from the operation. Numbed legs instead of no feeling had not given him enough encouragement.
After living a life that demanded physical exertion of all sorts, Arnav faced the looming prospect of limited activity with growing bitterness. In this bitterness, he lashed out at everyone, and most especially Khushi. And she knew he was doing it on purpose, he doesn't want his unnecessary trouble for her. If he was trying to break her tenacious hold on hope, she wondered how long she would be able to hold on to it under his attacks.
The strain of the last months was wearing on her, too. Sighing, she reached for the coffee.
"Khushi?" A male voice questioningly called her name with quiet concern. She sensed he must have spoken before, only she hadn't heard him. She glanced up and smiled at the dark-haired man standing beside the table. It was a haunted smile, a ghost of the animated warmth that it usually carried.
Khushi: Hello, Aman. I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in.
She apologized, gesturing toward a chair opposite hers.
Khushi: Have some coffee.
Aman: I saw ASR out on the veranda. Isn't he coming with us?
He sat down, smoothing a silvered wing in his otherwise dark hair.
Maria walked in carrying the breakfast plates for Khushi and Arnav, enabling Khushi to avoid Aman's question for the time being.
Maria frowned at the empty space at the head of the table and glanced at Khushi.
Maria: Where is Mister Raizada?
Khushi: He's out on the veranda. He said he wasn't hungry, but why don't you take him a tray in case he changes his mind.
She suggested, knowing that Arnav would probably leave the food to sit or feed it to Max, the German shepherd. And he wouldn't want to trouble her for any help. If only he would knew that how much she wanted to help him to cure out of his misery.
Maria agreed, clicking her tongue as she hurried back toward the kitchen.
Khushi: He will never be strong again if he doesn't eat.
Khushi sighed, drawing Aman's concern gaze. Perceptively he noticed the slight drop to her shoulders. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes and a trembling line to her mouth.
Aman: Has he let loose already this morning?
Khushi: Yes.
She nodded with a wry twist of her mouth. There was no point in lying or in pretending that she didn't know what Aman was talking about. He had known Arnav much longer than she had. He had even been there when Arnav was pulled from the plane wreckage.
At the time Aman had been the foreman for Arnav Singh Raizada, his best friend and best man at their wedding. And Aman had been the one who had met Khushi at the airport and driven her to the hospital where Arnav had been taken.
A few days after the accident, he had stopped by the hospital. It was then that Aman had told her he had quit his job with Arnav and was striking out for parts unknown.
Khushi had never delved into the precise reason that Aman had left after working so many years for Arnav, although she had her suspicions. Aware that Arnav's convalescence would be a long one, without being aware how long; Khushi had asked Aman if he would temporarily fill the post as foreman on the AR designs until Arnav was able to take over again.
Almost a year later, he was still here, temporarily filling in.
Khushi: I suppose I should be used to Arnav's outbursts of frustration by now.
She rubbed a hand across her forehead, with mental tiredness.
Aman: No one ever gets used to it.
Khushi: I suppose not," she sighed.
Maria walked through the dining room with an attractively set breakfast tray for Arnav.
The aloo puri on her own plate didn't arouse Khushi's appetite, but she began eating it anyway. There was too much to be done this morning to attempt to accomplish it on an empty stomach.
The sound of the sliding glass doors opening to the poolside was heard, and unconsciously Khushi tensed as Maria's shoes clattered onto the cobble-stoned veranda. The musical lilt of Maria's voice speaking in her slightly accented English was carried into the dining room, although her exact words were not distinguishable.
There wasn't any difficulty understanding Arnav.
Arnav: Dammit! I told her I wasn't hungry!
His angrily shouted words were followed by a resounding crash as the breakfast tray was obviously hurled away.
Arnav: Maria, I...
This time there was a faintly apologetic tone in his voice, but Arnav didn't complete the sentence.
Tears burned the back of Khushi's brown eyes. Her gaze ricocheted away from the grim line of Aman's mouth. It was all she could do to keep from crying.
Aman: He's in rare form this morning. I hope he doesn't explode like that around the office.
He commented dryly, sipping at his coffee.
Khushi: There's no need to worry. He isn't coming with us.
She said tightly, concentrating on the aloo puri on her plate.
Aman: He's not?
Khushi: No...
Aman: Did he give a reason?
Khushi: Oh, yes. He said he wasn't interested in a token involvement. He felt we were patronizing him by pretending he still made decisions about how the company was run.
Aman: The entire program for the employees is his. Did you mention that? How are we supposed to know what he was trying to develop?
Khushi: I don't think Arnav cares anymore.
There was a lump in her throat, large and painful.
Khushi: He said we've run the company very capably without him and we can keep on doing it.
Her eyes were clouded by inner distress as she glanced at his best friend sitting opposite her.
Khushi: He's convinced he isn't going to get any better.
Aman: A man like ASR doesn't give up no matter what he says. Inside he keeps on fighting.
Khushi: Does he?
Her chin quivered with painful tears.
Khushi: Today he said that he wished his friend hadn't pulled him out of the plane. I understand how he must feel, but..
She pressed a hand against her mouth to check the sob that rose in her throat
Khushi: he doesn't seem to care anymore about anything, not even the company. Or me, she could have added, but didn't.
Aman: He denies that he cares because he cares too much.
Khushi: I wish I could believe that.
Heaven knew that she tried.
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What do you think will Arnav able to come out of his misery with the help of Khushi?
Will he agree to take her hand to support him in all the way?
