You’re not going to work today?”
“No, day off.”
Khushi didn’t look up from the steaming pot of crab curry simmering on the stove, finding the crustaceans infinitely more fascinating than facing another interrogation from her aunt.
Leela had been badgering her intermittently over the last day or so, ever since she’d woken after her night out with Harrison and barely spoken.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t squeeze air let alone words past the perpetual lump in her throat and she’d spent as much time at work as possible, away from her aunt’s watchful eye.
But she couldn’t stay out forever and the fact Leela had chosen to make crab curry, her favorite, didn’t bode well. She’d want to make desultory small talk between cracking the claws, dipping butter-soft parathas into the spicy gravy, the way they always did over this meal.
“I’m glad you’re home today, you’ve been working too hard ever since the promotion.”
Leela waddled to the spice containers, tipped a handful of mustard seeds, cardamom pods and cumin seeds onto a plate for the vegetable dish to accompany the crab. “I hardly see you anymore.”
Khushi made a noncommittal sound, stirring the curry with renewed vigor.
Guilt at deceiving Leela added to her sorrow at losing Harrison, increasing the pain in her chest as it spread outward, growing exponentially with every second his official departure grew closer.
She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, willing the hours of this Friday evening to pass so she could seek oblivion in sleep.
Not that she’d been sleeping much either but in the sanctity of her room, she could drop the pretense, wallow in her grief at losing her heart, losing her head, losing the love of her life.
For she was under no false pretenses now.
She loved Harrison, had realized it when she ran from him the other night, knowing the agony tormenting her wouldn’t be so painful, so devastating, unless she loved him.
And that made this fiasco even worse. She’d sworn never to give her love so freely again, had effectively shielded her heart since Byron had shattered it and while that had been a childhood love, based on unquestioning trust and loyalty, this gut-wrenching, soul-deep love had her hurting more than she could’ve ever imagined.
“I’ll grind these spices for the baingan bharta and halva, be back in a moment.” Leela hesitated at the back door, her expression concerned. “Maybe we can talk later?”
Khushi bit her lip and nodded, grateful when her aunt went out on the back veranda, leaving her in peace. Her reprieve would be all too short and blinking back the sting of tears, she had to gather herself before she blurted out the whole sorry tale to her aunt. Crab curry, her favorite eggplant dish and sweet halva: maybe her aunt was smoothing the way to the truth?
A loud pounding at the front door had her glancing at the veranda. If she could barely summon coherent responses for Leela, there was no way she was up to chatting with callers.
When Leela didn’t appear, she replaced the pot lid, slid the spoon into a holder and wiped her hands on her apron before heading for the door, taking a deep breath, pasting a welcoming smile before opening the door.
To find the man she loved brandishing a fistful of documents and looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
Dark stubble covered Harrison’s jaw, dark circles ringed his eyes and a dark, haunted expression reflected the pain stabbing her anew at the sight of him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you before I leave.”
“How did you find me?”
Guilt slashed his face, momentarily overshadowing the pain. “I followed you from the hotel.”
“You’re stalking me?”
Harsh, untrue, but she needed to push him away, make him leave before she fell into his arms in a blubbering heap.
“Come on, Khush, you know me better than that.” He rattled the documents, an envelope, piquing her curiosity against her better judgment. “I had to give you this.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she strained her ears for sound of her aunt, satisfied when she heard the rhythmic grinding of the rolling pin on the stone, and quickly stepped over the threshold and half shut the door.
“You shouldn’t be here. We’ve got nothing to say to each other.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
Before she could react he’d wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body. She responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, fitting into him, her head tilting up to meet the incoming onslaught of his lips.
And it was an onslaught—a feverish, desperate clashing, a furious melding of mouths, demanding, taking as much as giving, wanting more.
A few seconds, maybe an eternity later, she tore away, gasping for air, grasping at sanity. When he kissed her, held her, all logic fled and left in its place a relentless yearning that being with this man was right, no matter what the obstacles.
Placing her hands on his chest, she shoved, hard. “Go. Now.”
“No.”
Grabbing her hand, he dropped to one knee, his pleading gaze locked on her, unwavering while her heart somersaulted at the implication of what he was doing.
“I love you, Khushi. I want to be with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to cherish you for as long as you’ll let me.”
Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a tender kiss, as flimsy as the flutter of butterfly wings against her skin.
“I want us to have a family. I want us to have it all.”
His eyes pleaded with her, his hand squeezing hers as hard as the invisible hand wrapped around her heart.
“You’re my world. Marry me.”
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