Chapter 52

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

—Thursday, February 11, 2022, 8:16PM—

Shiv sidled up to Imlie and Priya, “Di, can I steal Imlie away for a second? It’s important.”

Priya nodded, raising her eyebrow, she didn’t know what Shiv wanted to say to Imlie, but he brother rarely looked this serious. Imlie looked to Shiv, suddenly concerned, “Is something wrong?”

Shiv shook his head, smiling slightly, “No, not at all, I just…can’t wait.” He considered taking Imlie’s hand, but then thought better of it, it would be stupid to attract any attention right now, especially from the one person he didn’t want noticing where Imlie was going.

Imlie followed Shiv out to the front garden, and her eyes fell on the twinkle lights. She admired them and wondered silently if Aryan had chosen the decorations, or if it had been Kaki Maa and Arpita. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if Aryan knew her favorite thing to do when she couldn’t fall asleep, was to look up at the stars, if she could see them, and fall asleep trying to count them as if she were eight years old again. But since she moved to Delhi, she never really got to see a night sky with stars, there was so much pollution here. These twinkle lights made it seem as if there were actually stars in the night sky tonight. The lights combined with the scent of the flowers and the fresh smell of grass, it made her want to dance. To dance like she had been in Aryan’s arms just a while ago. She tried to push that thought out of her mind, but it was proving impossible.

Then Shiv started to speak, “Imlie, I know this could be the worst idea ever. In fact, it probably is the worst idea ever. But ever since I met you…” He paused, looking at Imlie.

Imlie laughed nervously, “What’s wrong? Why are you talking like you’re saying goodbye?”

Shiv ran his fingers through his hair, “No, I’m not saying goodbye, at least I really don’t want to. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, but you’ve completely defined my life in Delhi since I came back here. There isn’t a moment that goes that I’m not wondering about you. I like talking to you. I love hearing your stories, your laugh. You know how you wake up in the morning and everything feels out of focus, being able to talk to you is like that moment in the morning when you can finally see everything.”

Imlie was suddenly more nervous than she’d been in that dressing room trying on the lehenga, more nervous than she’d been when Aryan put her hand around her waist. And she didn’t like it, “Shiv, I don’t think I’m following you, but—”

Shiv interrupted her, “Just let me get this out, and even after I do. I want you to know, in fact, I’m guaranteeing it. I will remain your friend, always. Imlie, I’m falling in love with you.”

Imlie stepped back, “What?”

Aryan had heard enough, he’d listened to Shiv confess, and now he didn’t want to hear Imlie’s response. He felt like someone had reached into his chest and decided to tear off pieces of his heart one by one. He rushed back inside, and grabbed another beer from the bar. Before Maa or Didi could spot him, he rushed to the kitchen, and sunk onto the floor, his back leaning against the wall. Well, shit.

Shiv took a step forward, “Listen, I know it’s a lot, and I don’t need an answer now. In fact, I don’t think I need an answer for a while. You’re going through a lot, you just left a relationship. You’re still figuring our your career. You are your only priority, I understand that. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t see you make a decision, a choice…without all your options in front of you.”

Imlie’s voice wavered, “This…this isn’t happening.”

Shiv’s face fell, whatever hope he’d had that Imlie would hear him out, give him a chance, disappeared in that instant, “Imlie…”

Imli shook her head, “No, this isn’t happening. I didn’t ask for this. Shiv, I asked for a friend, that’s what I wanted. Just a friend. Shiv…Thank you, but…I don’t want this—” She stepped back further.

Shiv knew he couldn’t stop her, and in that moment of pain he made the choice he’d regret for years, “He can’t love you like I can. He can’t give you everything I can. He won’t keep you happy like I can. Give me a chance.”

Imlie stared back at him, speechless. Why did every single person in her life feel like it was their right to comment on her life, to give her advice she didn’t ask for? And why the hell was Shiv talking about Aditya as if he too thought she was a weak hearted woman who would run back to her ex-husband at the drop of a hat?

Shiv continued, “Sure, he can plan a party. He’ll buy you a lehenga, or a dozen. But he doesn’t understand you. He’s not like you. He will grow bored, or frustrated, or he’ll hurt you, and I don’t want to see that.”

Imlie didn’t want to hear any more, she backed away and found the entryway of the door at her heels, she turned and ran back inside the party. She composed herself before entering the main party again, because she knew Amma would realize immediately if something was off. But it wasn’t Amma that realized first, it was Arpita.

“Imlie, are you okay?” Arpita came running up to Imlie, among the dancing and merriment, “What’s wrong?”

Imlie smiled as wide as she could, “Nothing Didi, nothing at all is wrong. Let’s get back to dancing, if I don’t feel sore tomorrow, then tonight’s a failure!” Imlie pulled away from Arpita and headed back to the dance floor. She didn’t want to look for his face, because if she saw it, she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears anymore. What had Shiv said, ‘he will grow bored, or frustrated.’ Imlie tried to push the words out of her head, but what if Shiv had been right? Would testing the limits of her and Aryan’s friendship only be disappointing for him, and heartbreaking for her? As Imlie tried to wrangle through her feelings, she was less surprised at her own realization that she cared for Aryan, more than she did for any other friend in her life, more than she did for almost anyone in her life, and more frustrated, panicked, and afraid of Aryan not returning her feelings. He had always said, ‘hum dost nahin hain, Imlie.’ (We are not friends, Imlie). What if everything she’d been feeling and thinking…what if they were just that, figments of her imagination?

—Thursday, February 11, 2022, 9:15PM—

Arpita knew something was off, but instead of pushing Imlie to tell her, she told Narmada it might be best to end the party here. Narmada followed Arpita’s gaze to Imlie’s face, which was smiling, but not like before during the cake cutting.

Imlie opened the last of the presents, and Meethi made the mistake, “Narmada Ji, Aryan kaha hai?” (Where’s Aryan?)

Narmada stammered, assuming something might have gone wrong between the two of them, “Meethi Ji, he had some work, he just had to rush to finish it. I keep telling him not to bring work home, but he never listens.”

Meethi nodded, turning back to her daughter.

Arpita clapped her hands, “Sorry, sorry. Seeing as tonight’s technically a school night, especially for Imlie, we’ll have to wrap up here. I know it’s a little early, but trust me, when it’s my birthday, we’re all going to be up all night.”

Imlie laughed, really trying to push the laugh through her whole being, but it barely worked. She managed to make it through saying goodnight to everyone, and she was glad to see that Shiv hadn’t come back to the party.

Amma pulled her back before she could go upstairs, “Imlie, are you okay?”

As Imlie guessed, her mother didn’t miss a beat. “Amma, hum theek hain. Just a little tired.” (I’m fine.) Imlie looked to Narmada and Arpita, “Is there anything I can do to clean up, or can we cheat and put off cleaning until tomorrow?”

Arpita pinched Imlie’s cheek, “Why are you always worried about cleaning up the mess? Pagal. You, no cleaning. Just go take your presents upstairs and rest. Oh, did Aru come talk to you?” Arpita knew it was a loaded question, but the curiosity was killing her.

Imlie shook her head, “No, I haven’t seen him, Didi.” She headed up to her room.

Arpita found Aryan in his room, sulking on his bed, his head in one hand, as he played with something glittering in the other. “What happened? Everyone left. The party’s over. What did you say to Imlie? Why did she look like that?”

Aryan stuffed whatever it was in his pocket and looked at his sister, “I didn’t say anything to her. She already had someone…had a lot to deal with.”

Arpita narrowed her eyes, “What does that mean?”

Aryan sighed, “It means, I don’t feel like talking about it right now, Didi. Can you please leave? I’m exhausted.”

Arpita sighed, and her eyes fell on the present Aryan had brought for Imlie. She had confirmed with Aryan that he’d bought a gift two days ago, and was happy to find out he’d found the perfect gifts. But this gaddha still hadn’t given them to her.

“Get up.” Arpita said.

Aryan groaned, “What now?”

Arpita, “Go give your gifts to Imlie, or I’m calling Maa.”

Aryan stared at her, “What? Choti bacchi ho kya? Yeh kaisi zidd hai?” (Are you a small kid or what? What stubbornness is this?)

Arpita glared at him, “Don’t test me, Aru.”

Aryan backed away from her and grabbed the two boxes, “Fine, but you get out of my room, we’re not kids anymore, if you mess with my room, I can do worse than tell Maa.”

Arpita moved to hit Aryan, he flinched, she pulled back, “Go.” She said.

Aryan walked down the hallway to Imlie’s room. He turned around to see Arpita close the door of her own room, she really did trust him too much. He decided to turn around and go back to his own room. But then, the idea of Imlie happy after Shiv’s confession, flashes of them hugging in his mind — pushed Aryan to replace his need to wallow and be pathetic, with his need to let anger solve everything. He was angry, damn it. He knew he was really angry at Shiv for beating him to it. He knew above all he was angry at himself not realizing how much he loved Imlie sooner. He was Aryan Singh Rathore, and someone else had turned out smarter than him at something, and it enraged him. He knew that he wasn’t even a little angry at Imlie right now, no matter how much he wanted to be, but his brain decided to be stupid yet again, and take out his anger on her.

He pushed open the door to Imlie’s, and tossed the wrapped box on her bed.

“Here,” he said, coldly, “it’ll be useful in the future, congratulations.”

Imlie turned to him, she was sitting in the window nook, still in her lehenga, crying.

Aryan stared at her, fighting the need to hug her. Why was she crying? Was something wrong? But the anger was too much, so instead he said, “What, his confession was that emotional that you need to shed tears? If it was so good, then why are you here alone? Shouldn’t you be with him?”

Imlie’s face contorted into a frown and then she was angry. She grabbed the pillow behind her and threw it at Aryan. Then she stood up and threw the second one.

“What,” she grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him too, “is wrong with you?!”

Aryan was surprised by the first pillow, but dodged the second and third ones, “What? I saw the two of you. I heard him, he loves you. Then why are you crying?”

Imlie laughed, but it wasn’t because she found anything particularly funny, “Love? He doesn’t love me. He’s just another person who’s confused about who I am to them. That’s it. He’s barely infatuated.”

Aryan softened, but he wasn’t convinced, if she wasn’t crying out of happiness, then what was it? He took a step towards her, “Then why are you crying, is it Adi—”

“Don’t,” she glared at him, “don’t say his name right now. Get out. You gave me your gift, thank you. You can leave now.”

Aryan took another step, his anger washing away, replaced with concern, “No, just tell me what’s wrong? Did that…did he try something?”

Imlie turned away from him and looked out the window, “Do you think he’d still be alive if he had? Come on. Just leave, Aryan.”

Aryan was frustrated again, he ran his fingers through his hair, “Why are you like this? When you can see someone else needs to talk, you force them to talk to you. But when it’s you? You end up like this. You close yourself off, you become this stubborn…just tell me what’s wrong!”

Imlie didn’t turn to face him, “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t you know by now, I just like crying. It’s a hobby of mine.”

Aryan groaned in exasperation, “Seriously? Are you seriously going to be like this? Just—”

“Fine,” Imlie said, “if it means you’ll leave. I’m sad because I feel like something’s wrong with me. Whatever I want, what I need, it gets taken away, or it never gets to be mine in the first place. First, I had to live for years without a father, watching my mother suffer through accusations and curses while raising me. Then, when I met a family, that was taken away from me too. When I decided to start over, I found someone I cared about, but Sita Maiya isn’t in the mood to listen to me.” She took a deep breath, and turned around, her eyes brimming with tears again.

Aryan stepped towards her, but she stepped back, raising her hand to stop him. She looked at him and smiled sadly, “I think…I think in a past life I must have really been a horrible person or something. Or maybe it’s in this life that I’m too greedy. You know how I know Shiv’s not in love? Because love doesn’t just happen over a few days, he barely knows me. Having feelings for someone, it’s spending time with them every day, but still missing them when they’re not there. You feel restless if you don’t see them, if you don’t know where they are. It’s this…the only word I know is ‘emotion sickness,’ where it feels like if they’re close to you, you’ll throw up. But at the same time, you’ve never felt safer. When you have feelings for someone, you start to remember every little thing they’ve done for you, from just giving you a glass of water when you needed it, to saving you when you were at your lowest. It’s all consuming, it’s not something that can happen over a few days. And I guess, Sita Maiya sees my feelings as too selfish, I can’t ask for something again when I proved to her I couldn’t take care of other people I claimed to love, can I?”

Aryan stepped closer. No, he couldn’t see Imlie like this, defeated, confused, doubting herself. He didn’t know if she was feeling like this over Aditya or someone else, but he’d fight with Imlie’s precious Sita Maiya herself to give her what she wanted. “Who?” Aryan asked, “Who do you have these feelings for? If it’s not Shiv then is it Adi—”

Imlie looked up at him, “It’s you, you absolute imbecile.” Then she clapped her hands over her mouth, embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, she was just so frustrated by his assumptions that she could even consider going back to Aditya. She dropped her hands, and looked away, “I meant, what I wanted to say…or what I was trying—” She didn’t get to finish her thought.

Aryan bridged the remaining gap between them and pulled her to him by her waist, his other hand finding the nape of her neck. He lifted her head and kissed her, deeply. Her soft lips, her scent, it felt like they fit perfectly. Then he realized what he’d done and he pulled away, but he didn’t move his hands, “Sorry, I just…” He looked into Imlie’s eyes, and saw a mixture of shock and nervousness. Shit, what had he done.

Imlie looked into Aryan’s eyes, she saw concern, nervousness, and a desire that she hadn’t seen in the eyes of anyone, ever. Especially not for her.

Imlie smiled, “Shut up.” She got over the fleeting nervousness and grabbed the lapels of his suit and pulled him close, kissing him again. She didn’t know if what she was doing was right, she’d never made it this far with a man, not even Aditya. But it felt good. She could feel Aryan smiling into the kiss, and he pulled her closer, kissing her harder. He pulled away and looked into her eyes, whispering, “Tum…meri jaan le loge, sach.” (You…will take my life, really.) Imlie’s nervousness was back, she realized the concern, the nervousness, all that was gone from Aryan’s eyes, they were just filled with a desire now. Feeling hot and jumpy from his wolfish grin, Imlie walked past him, trying to steady her heart which was beating so fast she was sure it was audible. She looked back at him, “Aise time par, log…” she averted his gaze again and looked at the lamp, “log light off karte hain, na? Let me just turn this off—“ (At a time like this, people…people turn off the lights, right?)

Aryan strode up to her and stopped her hand before she reached the switch of the only lamp which was on in the room. The light wasn’t bright, but it wasn’t that dim either. He could see every inch of her, the outline of her lips, the way her kajal made her eyes look. “No,” he said, pulling her by her wrist close to him, and then turning her around so she faced the mirror at the desk across the room. Their eyes met in the mirror and Aryan pushed her hair to one side, and kissed her shoulder, not taking his eyes off of hers. He whispered in her ear, “I want to see and remember every moment of tonight, don’t turn off the light.”

He kissed her behind her ear, relishing in the little gasp of pleasure Imlie let out. Then he kissed down her neck and back to her shoulder, moving his hands from her waist up her back. He pulled the dori of her blouse undone, and kissed the back of her neck. Aryan met Imlie’s eyes in the mirror again, and smiled. He turned her around by her waist, wanting to see those golden flecks in her eyes again.

Imlie’s breath hitched, she couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She simultaneously felt so nervous, she was sure she would faint right there — but she also couldn’t bring herself to leave this spot, this moment, her place in Aryan’s arms. Instead of meeting Aryan’s eyes, Imlie looked down, if she looked up, she was sure she would actually faint.

Aryan chuckled softly, “Tumhe pata hai? Yeh sharmeelee act tumhe bilkul bhi suit nahin karti.” (You know what? This shy act doesn’t suit you at all.) He placed his thumb and fore finger on her chin, lifting it up, “Mere aankhon mein dekho, please?” (Look into my eyes, please?) He moved his hand to her shoulder, the other still around her waist, patiently waiting and hoping to see her eyes again. The eyes that made him feel more intoxicated than a whole bottle of scotch. Imlie felt like each one of Aryan’s words would burn her up, not to mention his touch. She looked into his eyes, and gathered her courage. She stepped closer to him, putting one of her hands on his chest, and stood on her toes to kiss him. Slowly at first, because she still didn’t know if what she was doing was right. He was Aryan Singh Rathore for god’s sake, though the very thought of it made her want to destroy everything in front of her, perhaps by throwing it at Aryan, he’d definitely done this before. She heard Aryan let out a little groan, and emboldened she nibbled slightly on his lower lip, which got the response she’d hoped for. Aryan groaned louder and moved his hand from her shoulder, down her back. When he reached the button of her blouse, he undid it — pulling Imlie closer to the bed. He pulled away from her kiss and moved his lips to her neck again, then her collarbone.

Imlie’s blouse was loose, barely hanging onto her shoulders now, and she could feel that it would drop at any moment. She looked nervously to the lamp by the bed again, wishing that she could turn it off. Imlie didn’t know what men expected from women’s bodies, and she definitely didn’t know if Aryan expected hers. Aryan noticed her fleeting look to the lamp, and realized what she was concerned about. He kissed her again, softer than before, relishing the taste of her lips. Then he pulled away and he kissed her left cheek, her right cheek, and then her forehead. Meeting her eyes again he smiled, “Agar tum is pal mein shak kar rahe ho ki tum kitanee khoobasoorat ho to mujhe bahut bura lagega, Imlie.” (If you are, in this moment, doubting how beautiful you are, then I’ll feel very bad, Imlie.) His fingers traced circles on her back, and he leaned closer to her, “Mere liye tum sabse khoobasoorat ho, tumhen dekhakar, tumhaare baare mein sochakar bhee, mujhe itni sukoon milti hai, main shabdon mein bayaan bhee nahin kar sakata.” (To me, you are the most beautiful, looking at you, even thinking about you, brings me so much peace, I can't even express it in words.)

Imlie smiled and then laughed a little, “Tum sirf besur nahin ho, tum shaayar bhi nahin ho.” (You’re not just tone-deaf, you’re not a poet either.)

Aryan pressed his tongue into his cheek, biting back his smile, and mocked a frown, “Main yahaan, tumhe khoobsurat keh raha hoon, aur tumhe mazaak soojh rahi hai?” (I’m here, calling you beautiful, and you’re cracking jokes?)

Imlie grinned wider, “Kya karen, tumhe chutkula sunaana bhi nahin aata.” (What to do, you can’t tell jokes either.)

Aryan smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Imlie’s hand and pulling her on top of him. She steadied herself with her other hand on his shoulder, her breath hitching as his other hand traced up her back. Aryan pulled Imlie close to him, her face less than an inch from his, his eyes falling to her lips again, “Abhi tumhe chutkula sunane ka man nahin hai, sorry.” (Now I’m not in the mood to tell you jokes, sorry.)