Chapter 27

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

Imlie walked up the stairs after dinner and made her way to Aryan’s room. The door was closed, so she knocked lightly. There was no answer. She knocked again, a little louder. Still no answer. She looked at the clock on the wall down the corridor, it was only 9:30, there’s no way Aryan was asleep already.

She knocked again, louder still, three hard raps, and after she called, clearly but not too loudly, “ABP?” No answer. She’d had enough, even if she was waking him up, she didn’t care. She knocked repeatedly, adding an “ABP” in between each knock.

Finally the door swung open and she found herself staring right into Aryan’s chest, her knuckles an inch away from knocking it.

She looked up, meeting his glare, “ABP.” She laughed weakly, “So you are awake.”

Aryan closed his eyes, willing and hoping his blood vessels could handle the extra blood pressure because of this girl, he rubbed his temples with both his hands, “What…do you want…Imlie?”

Imlie crossed her arms, “Don’t act like it’s such a pain to talk to me, if your voice is such a sought after baritone, then my voice is as sureelee as Krishna’s bansuri itself.” (Melodious)

Aryan raised his eyebrows, “Ab tum khud ko bhagavaan se behatar samajhate ho?” (Now you think of yourself as better than god?)

Imlie strolled past Aryan into his room, “Correction, my voice is just as melodious as a flute. Didn’t you teach me not to underestimate myself.” She glanced around the room. She’d only been in here briefly, when Aryan had gotten sick after their rescue mission in Pagdandia, but then she hadn’t gotten a good look.

She turned around to face Aryan, who had finally realized that Imlie had talked herself into his room, he wasn’t amused. “Your room is exactly how I expected it.”

Aryan walked past her, and sat back down at his desk, turning his attention back to the files he’d been going over, “Do I even want to know what you expected from my room?”

“You do,” Imlie plopped herself on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs, “I expected it to be boring, and guess what, I was right!”

Aryan swiveled his chair around to face her and the bed, “Boring? You’re acting like you’re some amazing interior designer.”

Imlie looked at him and let out a melodramatic sigh, “ABP, what should we do with you. Everyone’s rooms, no matter how rich or poor you are, they should have a taste of ‘you’ visible. Like in my room, I brought all those mitti dolls and diyas from Pagdandia, and decorated a small part of the wall. And of course my Sita Maiya…” She trailed off, remembering that her murti had gone missing after she gave it to Aditya before he left for Pagdandia.

Aryan leaned back, nodding sardonically, “Yes, I should take interior decorating advice from you, someone who gives away bits of her personality to undeserving and horrible humans who don’t respect her.”

Imlie glared at him, “Fine, I’m not the best model, but you should have a shelf of your awards or something, or bring in a shelf of your favorite books, or maybe some family photos.” She looked around the bare walls of the room, the closed curtains that shielded the moonlight from entering in, and then back at Aryan, smiling. Her smile faded when she saw Aryan’s face. It wasn’t mildly annoyed anymore, now she could tell he was sad. Aryan finally met Imlie’s eyes and the despair that was evident on his face disappeared; he replaced it with a combination of his signature angry and annoyed face.

“What?” He asked her.

Imlie paused, “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for Imlie?”

“Bringing up family, I know that…Kaki Maa mentioned once, Didi ki…” Imlie stopped talking. She could tell this wasn’t something Aryan wanted to talk about, even if he probably should talk to someone about it, that someone wasn’t going to be her and it wasn’t going to be now.

She clapped her hands, “Anyway, I came to say sorry about something else.”

Aryan fought against his the thoughts of Arvind flooding his mind right now, and asked, “What for? Or should I ask, which other mistakes that you’ve made today are you apologizing for?” He managed a weak smile and raised eyebrow. Aryan knew that goading Imlie into getting angry and talkative was the best way to prevent the foul mood thinking about Arvind would put him in.

Imlie glared at him, “Ha. Ha. Very funny. I just wanted to apologize for wasting your time. You clearly didn’t have the time to pick me up today, because you have that board meeting you talked about, I shouldn’t have kept you waiting, or I should have told you earlier that I didn’t need a ride.” She stood up, “Now that I’ve apologized, are you less mad now? I know you’ll never have no angry in that head of yours, but I’ve dropped the levels at least five percent, right? From now on, don’t worry about picking me up, I know you’re busy and like you say,” Imlie put on a fake gruff voice and put her hands on her hips, “I’m Aryan Singh Rathore, and my time is worth a lot of money—“

Aryan stood up from the chair and walked straight up to Imlie, grabbing both her arms, and pulling her close, “God damn it, Imlie. you’re not a waste of time, Imlie. When exactly are you going to stop underestimating yourself?”

Imlie looked up at him, confused at how Aryan had seemed to grow fifty times angrier in a matter of seconds, over an apology, “Sach mein, tumhara mood na, fast forward mein hi chalat hai. Hamesha meri samajh se baahar hai.” (Really, your mood, only runs in fast forward. It’s always outside of my understanding.)

Aryan let go of Imlie. He didn’t understand why Imlie’s words had infuriated him so much. He didn’t understand why the hell he cared if she spent every night out or not, drinking chai in a dabhaa or beer in a pub, it shouldn’t matter to him. She could spend her every day with Shiv Agarwal, it didn’t matter to him, at least it shouldn’t.

Imlie tried to catch Aryan’s gaze, moving her head up and down as he averted her eyes, “Why, exactly, were you mad then? If it wasn’t about me wasting your time…tum mere baare mein itanee chinta kaahe karat ho?” (Why do you worry so much about me?)

Aryan looked at her, “Chinta? Aur main? Tumhare baare mein?” (Worry? And me? About you?) He forced a harsh laugh, “Mere paas tumhara aur tumhara khaas doston ke chintz karne ka samay nahin hai. Samajhee tum?” (I don't have the time to worry about you and your special friends. Do you understand?)

Imlie stepped back, exaggerating a nod, “Ah. There’s the issue, you have a problem with my friend. Right? What’s your issue with Shiv. You just met him? How can you say I shouldn’t trust him?”

Aryan muttered, “Sure, sure, trust everyone that comes your way, what’s it to me?”

Imlie put her hand to her ear, “Kahe? What are you saying to yourself?” (What?)

Aryan rolled his eyes, “Nothing. Tum duniya ki sabase hoshiyaar ladaki ho. Aur tumhara doston sabase bharosemand hote hain. Theek?” (You are the world's smartest girl. And your friends are the most trustworthy. Okay?)

Imlie lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes, “I recognize your sarcasm every time, you know, and it’s very unattractive on you.”

Aryan raised his eyebrow, “So you find me attractive?”

Imlie blushed and responded quickly, taking a step back, “No! That’s not what I meant. I meant that sarcasm is an unattractive trait. On you…”

Aryan took a step forward, “So…there are other traits that are attractive on me?” A smile creeped up on his face, he didn’t know why, but Imlie flustered and confused like this was always funny to him, it made him speak and act brazenly in a way he almost never did.

Imlie blushed more, and then noticed Aryan’s smirk, she furrowed her brows and pushed him back, “I don’t know how we got on this subject, but I finished what I came for. Clearly it didn’t work, but I have another tactic to lessen your stress and anger.”

Aryan was still smiling a little, “And what’s that? Tumhari Amma ke paas stress ke liye khaada ka recipe hai?” (Does your mother have a khaada recipe for stress?)

Imlie faked a laugh, “Ha. Ha. Ha. Are you done joking? Great. Now sleep.”

She took his arm and spun him around, so his back was to the bed, and then she pushed him onto it.

Aryan was taken aback, “Arre, yah kya badatameezee hai? I have work to do, I’m not sleepy.” (Hey, what is this insolence?)

He tried to get off the bed, but Imlie pushed him back down.

“Chupp chaap, so jao, varna…” Imlie started. (Sleep quietly, or else…)

Aryan looked at her, amused again, “Varna, kya? Tum kya karlogi?” (Or else, what? What will you do?)

Imlie gave him a mischievous smile, “Varna, main tumhara laptop aur iss room mein har file ko churaa ke chuppa lungi.” (Or else, I’ll steal your laptop and every file in this room and hide them.)

Aryan crossed his arms, now he was sitting cross legged on the bed, “And, I’m just going to let you do that?”

Imlie grinned mischievously, “Do you want to test me? Really?”

Aryan put up his hands in mock fear, “Oh no, I’m so scared.” He smiled again, damn he was doing a lot of that lately, “Fine, I’ll sleep, but on one condition.”

Imlie smiled, “Really? What’s the condition?”

Aryan grinned wider, “Do you remember the channel launch party?”

Imlie nodded, unsure where Aryan was going with this, “Yea…and?”

“And remember when you drank one cocktail, thinking it was lemon juice, and then promptly got drunk?” Aryan knew Imlie’s reaction to this wasn’t going to be quiet or immediate acquiescence, but he liked the idea of falling asleep to her nonsense muttering.

Imlie was thoroughly confused now, “But you don’t drink? Where are you going with this?”

Aryan laid down on the bed, and pulled the comforter over himself, “Tum. Mujhe lore sunao.” (You. Sing me a lullaby.)

“Kahe?!” (What) Imlie was completely taken aback. This was like Aryan Singh Rathore asking her for a plate of parathas and curry chaval after seven pm.

Aryan smiled, “Loree. Main ek loree sunana chaahata hoon. Mainne tumhaare liye gaaya, ab tumhaaree baaree.” (Lullaby. I want to listen to a lullaby. I sang for you, now your turn.)

Imlie was still shocked, “You hate my singing. What the hell are you talking about? Did you hit your head today or something?”

Aryan closed his eyes, and smiled, “I had just one condition. You should have been better at negotiating or using your leverage.”

“Tum sach mein paglaagaye ho, kya? It’s almost ten at night and you want to not only listen to, me, sing you, a lullaby, but you’re also going to lecture me on negotiation tactics right now?” Imlie really would never understand this man. (Did you really go mad?)

Aryan just said, “Haan, I’m waiting…” Not hearing Imlie sing, he opened his eyes and sat up, “if you’re not going to sing, I can get back to work—“

Imlie stopped him, “Fine, fine. Tum pagal ho, but fine.” (You’re crazy)

Aryan gave her a smug smile and laid back down on the bed, closing his eyes. Imlie made her way to the side table next to his bed and sat down on it, she looked down at Aryan’s face, sighed, and sang her favorite lullaby that Amma used to sing for her.

Aryan fought a smile, and opened his eyes a little, he took her hand from her lap and put it on his head.

Imlie, shocked, stopped singing, “What?”

Aryan moved her hand to stroke his hair the way she had made him when she was drunk.

Imlie looked at her hand in his, and after a few seconds she was stroking Aryan’s hair without his hand to move it.

“You must be really stressed, huh?” Imlie whispered, not knowing if Aryan would answer.

Aryan sighed, “Kal, ya to sab kuchh shuroo ho jaega, ya sab kuchh khatm ho jaega.” (Tomorrow, either everything will begin, or everything will end.)

“What do you mean? Tum neend mein bhi gol gol baatein hi karte ho, ka?” (Do you speak in riddles when you’re asleep too?)

Aryan snickered softly, “Unfortunately, yeh baat udhaar rehana padega.” (This point will remain a debt/a surprise.)

Imlie rolled her eyes.

“Who said to stop singing?” Aryan said, he genuinely was enjoying this, but also it was amazingly funny to him. He hadn’t joked with someone else in so long.

Imlie sighed, “Sorry, sorry.” She started singing again.