Chapter 39

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

—Saturday, February 5, 2022, 5:30PM—

Imlie looked at her watch, she had spent the whole day at the office. Well, technically, it was only a few hours, but it felt like the whole day. The events before brunch felt like ages ago by this point. She had managed to finish the draft of her pharma story, she had polished two of the interviews she’d been assigned earlier in the week, and she’d organized her whole desk, the junior reporters’ files (both material and virtual), and then she’d written up ten new pitches she could make to her editor on Monday. Now she was struggling to find new things to do. She looked over at Aryan’s office, the blinds were open, but all she could see was him typing away at something.

Almost everyone else had left the office by this point. There was only a few people left who were in charge of the final edits and work for the weekend editions of the paper. No one who actually could give Imlie any work was left over in the office, however. She decided to take her laptop and add ten more pitches for her editor, but she’d do it in Aryan’s office. It wasn’t just because she needed a change of scenery, but hopefully a few well-placed yawns would get him to leave. She hadn’t seen him do anything besides work all day since they came back from the restaurant. Imlie hadn’t dared to ask him how he was again. She knew either she’d get an evasive smile or a noncommittal grunt, worst case scenario: she’d get a long speech about how she needed to learn how to mind her own business or she’d never get ahead in her life.

She walked over to Aryan’s office and opened the door, more confidently than she actually felt. Aryan looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you needed, Imlie?” He asked, genuinely curious, but also mildly peeved.

Imlie smiled, hiding her real intention, which she only just realized was to check up on Aryan closer than she could all the way from her desk. “No, I just want to finish up my work here, is that okay? Everyone out there is being too loud, and it’s a little distracting.”

Aryan glanced outside at the office floor, there were maybe four people total, almost everyone had gone home. He quickly checked his watch and saw it was 5:34 in the evening. He cursed himself silently for keeping Imlie here this long. When they’d gotten here, he’d planned on getting a car to take her home at around 2:00, all he’d really wanted was for her to not go out with Shiv again. But then he’d gotten so caught up with work he’d forgotten. Also, a tiny part of him, a part of him that was probably going insane, liked that whenever he looked up from his desk or away from his computer, he’d see Imlie. Just a hint of her, either it was her profile as she worked on something on her laptop, or her long hair swishing as she looked for some file, or it was her smile as she talked to some colleague about something. Every hint of her today felt like a breath of fresh air, a breath he desperately needed, because the weight of what he’d done this morning was finally coming down to bear on him. He’d let Aditya Kumar Tripathi go. He’d let the man who had a massive role in his brother-in-law’s death, go. Just like that. Of course, Aryan managed to explain his decision to himself, over and over again, today. He told himself that it was what Didi and Maa wanted, that it was what Radhika needed to get away from Khanna, that it was not fair to give Aditya’s family the same punishment he was trying to give him, that Imlie needed it. But that last reason, it was a double-edged sword—because it reminding Aryan both that he had a reason to let it all go, and that there might still be a part of Imlie that wanted to go back to that horrid man. And for that very reason, Aryan kept wishing he hadn’t let it go. And even that thought made him feel ashamed, because all he should have cared about was Jiju, nothing else.

Aryan shook his head back to the current moment, “Sure, go ahead.” Aryan did want to go home, at least, he knew that he needed to get Imlie back, she needed a break from all this work. But, now he’d just managed to get into the final stretch of preparations for the board meeting, and he just wanted to finish it all today. Then he might be able to breathe easy.

—Saturday, February 5, 2022, 6:53PM—

The minutes ticked by, and Imlie had made it to twenty-three pitches to her editor. She yawned, this time it wasn’t a fake one. She’d realized that Aryan didn’t seem to notice even one of her yawns or carefully exaggerated stretches, but she was too afraid to ask him straight out if he wanted to go home. She could tell that he was like a stray cat right now, wary of everyone and everything unfamiliar to him, and if she decided to be her usual self today, it would just agitate him and make him retreat. She really looked at him now, however. Just in a few glances here and there, and she started to see things she hadn’t paid attention to the whole time she’d known Aryan Singh Rathore.

Though ABP always left the house with his hair perfect, she had no idea what product he used, but it had an effect of always making his hair look wet. But, now she realized that by the end of the day, and she thought back to the other times she’d seen ABP at the end of a workday, the product in his hair wore off and it made him look boyish to have his hair in that natural state, falling more relaxed on his head, with little pieces of it revealing the natural curl to his hair. The way it looked now made Imlie want to run her fingers through it. She’d always thought Aryan’s eyes were beautiful, she’d never said it, however. Imlie found it amazing that in a country that probably had over a few hundred million people with brown eyes, she had yet to see someone with eyes as expressive as Aryan’s. Even when he was looking at or talking to anyone, she could read almost everything from his eyes. Though there were moment, countless in fact, where she couldn’t tell what he was feeling, his eyes told her at least part of the story. At this particular moment, Imlie could tell that he was exhausted, determined, and focused. Though it was slightly ridiculous to think she could see that in his eyes, she felt she was right. Then she noticed, and she couldn’t believe she’d never seen him do this before, that not only had Aryan taken off his blazer (it hung neatly on the coat rack behind him), but he’d rolled up his sleeves. He looked less and less like a serious businessman who had no time for Imlie’s nonsense, and more and more like someone she could spend lazy weekends with, playing board games, watching trashy movies, talking about anything and everything, or just sitting like this, enjoying each other’s existence nearby without having to say a word. She could feel her face getting hot as she fixated for a particularly long few seconds on a couple of veins in Aryan’s right forearm, and the way, even through his shirt she could tell the result of his spending hours upon hours in his gym every morning. She forced herself to look back at her laptop, but not for long. Because a few minutes later she was fixated on his face again. Where had he gotten that cut on his eyebrow? Perhaps in a fight? Imlie realized that Aryan’s nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken at some point. Perhaps in the same fight that led to his cut eyebrow, she thought. She smiled to herself, remembering the second time she’d seen him, at an underground fight club, fearlessly knocking out a man twice his size just because the owner of the club had insulted Arpita Didi. Imlie shook her head and looked back at her work. She needed to focus. She’d decided to sit in Aryan’s office because she wanted to figure out his state of mind, but even with his expressive eyes, all Imlie could really figure out was that he was tired but relentless in finishing whatever work he was engrossed in at the moment. She went back to her work, stifling a second (very real) yawn. She’d decided to stop writing new pitches and had started working on one of them, an op-ed on Indian society’s attitude toward domestic violence. She knew her editor would like it, because her work on women’s and cultural issues like these almost always got approved.

Aryan checked his watch again, it was getting late, especially for a Saturday. He glanced over at Imlie, she was obviously exhausted. She’d been initially faking yawns, Aryan could tell when she was acting, probably because she wanted him to go him, not because she was tired herself. Aryan could never understand that annoying habit of hers; no matter what was going on in her life, she needed to spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about and focused on other people. Perhaps that’s what made her such a natural journalist, he thought. She was clearly working on something, but annoyingly she’d been outright staring at him off and on for the past hour and a half. Imlie definitely wanted to ask him about this morning. He didn’t understand why she had to talk everything out. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? Aryan knew if she forced him to talk about it, about Jiju, he would get angry, not sad. He wouldn’t do what Imlie expected, what she thought worked to make one’s mind light, cry; instead, he’d get furious, and he didn’t want to let out his anger on her.

In the past twenty or so minutes, Imlie’d let out three yawns that were definitely very real. He should just finish all this work at home. He stood up, and just then his phone rang, it was Didi.

He picked up, accidentally putting on speaker. He should have known better, he’d made this mistake before.

“Mr. UNB, when exactly are you gracing us with your presence? Or do you plan on living in the office? Also how dare you keep Imlie at work all day? It’s a Saturday!” Arpita scolded Aryan, not taking a breath.

Imlie stifled a giggle and then walked over to help Aryan.

“Didi, I was just leaving. Also I didn’t keep Imlie here, she—“

“Don’t bullshit me, Aru, Imlie’s hardworking but she’s not a complete workaholic like you.”

Imlie couldn’t hold it in any longer, she laughed. “Didi, I’m here, don’t worry, I’m bringing him home right now. You know how stubborn he is, I didn’t want to ask or drag him out earlier, because, well what if Volcano Aryan Singh Rathore burst in the office and made some poor innocent worker cry?”

Aryan glared at her, “I don’t get that angry at my employees, I just...like work to be done right.”

Imlie rolled her eyes at him, while Arpita let out a derisive laugh. “ABP, you’re the least forgiving boss there is, trust me.” Imlie said, closing her laptop and then walking back over to his desk to close his.

Aryan narrowed his eyes, “As if you have so much experience with other bosses? This is your first job!”

Imlie looked at him, as if deciding he was a lost cause, “The editors here are technically my bosses, and they are perfectly nice. Also I met Shiv’s boss recently, he’s one of the head partners at Shiv’s firm, he was nothing like you.”

“Oh forgive me, I didn’t realize Shiv Ji had such an amazing workplace, please do tell me more.” Aryan muttered sarcastically.

Imlie called out to Arpita Didi who was still on the phone, “Ignore his mood, Didi, and tell Kaki Maa we’re on our way, we’ll be there soon.”

Aryan added, “Also, don’t call me UNB when you call me at work, I could have some annoying employee nearby, and I don’t want them to overhear.” He stared pointedly at Imlie.

Imlie stuck her tongue out at him.

Aryan grabbed his jacket, wallet, and bag, following Imlie to her desk where she gathered her things. The two of them headed out, Imlie waving a silent goodbye to the remaining few workers at the office.