… Runway Finale Begins
But Khushi couldn't move.
She was cornered between couture and commitment.
> Khushi (to Arnav, whispering urgently):
"Do something. She's planning our wedding menu and I haven't even decided on breakfast."
> Arnav (leaning closer):
"Do you want me to kiss you in front of her or fake a medical emergency?"
> Khushi:
"Can you faint attractively?"
> Arnav (smirking):
"Only if you catch me."
Before either could decide between scandal or CPR, the lights dimmed again—and the final model walked out.
Everyone paused. Even Sushila Auntie.
And the moment passed.
But not the whispers.
> Sushila (to her assistant):
"Check her birth chart. And see if she has siblings. Maybe we can marry off Akash and Aman too."
> Aman (shaking a samosa nervously):
"What did I ever do to deserve this?!"
---
Khushi holding a glass of water like it's holy protection.
Arnav standing beside her, sipping slow, calm as ever.
> Khushi (muttering under breath):
"Your family's scarier than mine."
> Arnav (smirking, looking at her):
"But you're still here."
> Khushi (grinning despite herself):
"Yeah, well. I came for the fashion. Stayed for the chaos."
> Arnav:
"Then welcome to the Raizada circus."
They clink their glasses.
Fireworks go off outside.
Inside?
Only more sparks.
---
The music swelled like moonlight on water.
Khushi stood in the wings of the stage, her heartbeat louder than the applause that thundered moments ago. The final look had walked. Her design—Midnight Bloom—had captured the crowd like fire in silk. The boutique shimmered with fairy lights and pride.
But inside her?
Chaos.
Not the kind she could tame with embroidery or thread.
The kind that had brown eyes and an easy smirk and a past walking on heels straight into her present.
She was sipping champagne like it was truth serum.
Rhea Singhania.
Tall. Impeccably poised. Arnav's college "almost" someone. Too poised. Too knowing. The kind of woman who wore threats as compliments and dressed her jealousy in silk.
She leaned close to Khushi, all glossy lips and artful shade.
> Rhea (cool, saccharine):
"So you're Khushi. The muse. The... inspiration."
(Her gaze flicked from Khushi's jhumkas to her slightly dusty mojris)
"Very raw. Arnav always did have a weakness for girls with—what was it—chaos and conviction?"
> Khushi (smiling tightly):
"I didn't know I was a weakness."
> Rhea:
"Oh darling, no. You're the type he sketches. He always sketched girls like you. Big eyes. Loud morals. But sketches fade, no?"
Khushi's voice trembled, not with fear, but fury wrapped in restraint.
> Khushi:
"Sketches only fade when the artist stops believing in them."
Before Rhea could purr back some condescending truth—
He arrived.
Arnav Singh Raizada.
Rolled sleeves. Jaw clenched. That no-nonsense, I-will-burn-the-ground-you-walk-on expression.
> Arnav (sharp):
"Rhea."
> Rhea (smiling):
"Nostalgia sends its regards."
She leaned in, to kissed his cheek like she still had the right but he step back,
Khushi flinched.
> Khushi (to Arnav, under breath):
"Who is she?"
> Arnav (stiff):
"Someone I once knew. That's all."
> Rhea:
"Oh Arnav, don't rewrite history. I was more than a 'someone'. You used to draw girls like her in your notebooks and show them to me, remember?"
Khushi's smile shattered.
> Khushi (quiet):
"So it's true."
> Arnav (urgently):
"No. You're not a sketch. You're the only design I couldn't finish. Because you live outside the lines, Khushi. You're real."
> Rhea (mock sighing):
"Careful, Raizada. Love makes artists sloppy."
Arnav turned fully to Khushi. Blocking out the noise. The chaos. The past.
> Arnav (soft, intense):
"She's not my story. You are. I choose you. I always choose you."
Khushi didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Because suddenly, it wasn't just Rhea's words echoing. It was every doubt she had tucked beneath her pallu.
Every time she'd wondered if Arnav's world—his sleek boardrooms and perfect people—had space for her bangled madness.
The lights of the boutique still glimmered like blessings, the applause from the showcase still echoing in pockets, but Khushi was barely breathing.
Rhea's words coiled in her chest like barbed wire.
> "He used to draw girls like you. Big eyes. Loud morals. But sketches fade, no?"
Arnav had stood between them like a shield. He had spoken of choices—of choosing her. But something inside her had cracked open. A whisper of doubt she hadn't meant to hear.
She needed air.
She walked.
Out of the boutique, across the lane, steps fast and blind.
Her hands trembled at her sides. Her breath caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. The Diwali lights from the rooftops blurred in her eyes. She didn't even notice the firecrackers going off near the road or the honking growing closer, sharper.
She was halfway across the street.
And didn't see the car.
Behind her —
> Arnav (yelling):
"Khushi! KHUSHI, STOP!"
She turned.
Too late.
Headlights screamed across her skin. Her eyes widened.
> Khushi (stunned, whispering):
"Arnav…?"
And then—
A blur of black.
A body slammed into hers, wrapped around her like armor.
She felt the ground vanish beneath her.
Then pain. Bone-jarring. But not hers.
A sickening thud.
A skip
Silence
Khushi hit the pavement on her side—her elbow scraped, breath knocked out—but she was alive.
Because Arnav had shoved her out of the way.
And taken the full blow.
> Khushi (gasping):
"No… no no no…"
He lay barely a foot from her, twisted on the asphalt, blood painting the edge of his kurta. His eyes fluttered open. Just barely.
> Khushi (crawling to him):
"What did you do?! WHY?!"
> Arnav (barely whispering):
"You were... walking away…"
> Khushi (crying):
"So you throw yourself in front of a car?! Are you mad?! Are you—!"
> Arnav:
"If losing you… means watching you break… I'd rather break myself first."
> Khushi:
"You're not allowed to say poetic things while BLEEDING!"
> Arnav (a faint smile):
"Still… fire in you…"
She sobbed, pressing her hands to his chest, his pulse fluttering beneath her fingers like a bird losing flight.
> Khushi:
"You stupid man. You impossible, infuriating, beautiful idiot. I was angry! That's all! I wasn't walking away from you! I was walking away from her."
> Arnav (eyes fluttering shut):
"Then… come back…"
> Khushi:
"I am back. Right here. But you have to stay with me."
> Arnav (a breath, a whisper):
"Do you…?"
She didn't wait.
> Khushi (pressing her forehead to his):
"Yes. I love you. I love you, you reckless hero. So much it hurts."
His lips curved.
And then his body went limp in her arms.
> Khushi (screaming):
"ARNAV! Don't you DARE! You're not allowed to leave me! I just told you—!"
Aman and Lavanya burst through the crowd.
The ambulance siren cried somewhere in the distance.
And Khushi?
She held him like the thread she stitched her world with had just torn through her palms.
> Khushi (whispered):
"Thread by thread, you said. So come back. Let me stitch you back. I will. Just come back…"
And under the fairy-lit night, broken hearts echoed louder than firecrackers.
---