Warning: this chapter has mature scenes upcoming. Please proceed with discretion.
Mujhko barsaat bana lo
Ek lambi raat bana lo
Apne jazbaat bana lo, jaana
Allure
[noun]
the quality of being powerfully attractive
Imlie sat quietly, staring outside the window, as Aryan drove in silence. The roads were emptier than usual, the hour was late. Aryan glanced at the woman next to him, looking breathtaking in her deep velvet green churidaar. Her dupatta made of a barely there gold gossamer thread twinkled brightly as the lights flashed in and out of the window.
She pushed her hair off her face and gathered it at the back of her neck, twisting her hair in a loose bun that immediately unraveled. Aryan had had a hard time looking away from her today.
He was certain Imie must have put up quiet the fight against wearing this outfit because he could hear the screeches and begging from her room until an exhausted but victorious looking Arpita had stepped out with a sullen, but stunning Imlie following behind like a meek lamb.
The dress was far more form fitting than he was used to seeing on Imlie, hugging every womanly curve to perfection. The neckline was wider than she normally wore, showing off the expanse of her slim shoulders, her collarbone jutting out like delicate wings just above the golden beaded edge.
It was modest by modern standards, he admitted, sliding another look at her, gulping when she turned away, exposing the long line of her neck, her fingers playing softly with the delicate chain that dangled there. Regardless, Aryan had been unable to think of anything else all evening.
He wouldn't have believed it once, but he was head over heels for the woman sitting two feet away from him. So much so, that he was reduced to lusting after an innocent collarbone, of all things.
He could not stop thinking about her. Not at all.
That didn't seem to be the case with the lady in question though, who was ignoring him rather well. He wondered what was cooking in that fertile mind of hers, especially after the busy evening they'd had.
They had been invited by Jai and Tanvi Bhatt to a small party to thank Imlie for the articles she'd written for them through the initial court proceedings. It seemed to have swayed the public's opinion in their favor, seeing how loving and happy they were with their son. Imlie had managed to dig into the birth father's records, and had uncovered that he was a gambling addict who had gotten a young girl pregnant and had refused to be involved in the child's life.
Since the birth mother had been a single woman and unable to take care of the baby, she had given him up for adoption to her employers, Mr. and Mrs. Bhatt. She had then left town soon after to go to school and pursue a nursing degree in Darjeeling instead. The adoptive parents had been trying to protect the young woman by not bringing her into the picture simply to prove themselves innocent.
In a happy turn of events, the birth mother was now married to a supportive man who knew of her past. She had voluntarily chosen to come out of the shadows upon reading Imlie's articles and had publicly condemned the birth father for his attempt to use the little boy as a way to extort money.
Jai and Tanvi had been beside themselves with joy at being awarded incontestable custody once more, with their names cleared of any wrong doing. They had thanked Imlie and Aryan profusely for their help, insisting that they attend their party as their guests of honor.
In all this, Aryan couldn't help but be extremely proud of how far Imlie had come. There was a reason why he had assigned Imlie to this story.
Had it been anyone else, they would have been starstruck by the bollywood couple and would have certainly written favourable articles. But none of them would have considered it from the child, Ayaan's perspective it. That Imlie had done this had been what had struck a chord with the general public. He had had full confidence in her ability to bring in a view that would touch people's hearts in the simplest of ways, and indeed, she had.
She'd chosen to take over the case without Mr.Tripathi's help which had surprised him, but he hadn't probed into it. He had promised her space and time with respect to her profession, and despite his need to safeguard her, he was determined to keep this promise.
He'd been rewarded with seeing her confidence and talent grow with every article she'd published.
He recalled an evening last week, a few days after her first round of interviews with them, when he'd stumbled upon her frustratedly searching through some files in the library at home.
He hadn't expected to see her. He had been coming to the library and waiting there each night in the hopes that she'd show up. He'd been left disappointed every time, except that night.
She'd looked up at him as he strode in, eyes flickering in uncertainty. She had immediately gathered her work and stood up to leave, only to have her path blocked by Aryan.
"What's wrong?"
He had seen the stress on her face.
She shook her head, looking down as she bit her lip.
"Imlie, please understand that I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what is wrong."
She looked for a second like she wanted to argue, but instead had burst into tears, taking him aback.
Her feelings had been on edge already because of her fallout and subsequent confusion with Aryan. Working on this particular story had been emotionally exhausting on top of that.
She had formed a sympathetic bond with little Ayaan who was being pulled in different directions. She saw his confusion echoed in his innocent questions to his mother.
"Do I have to go away?"
"Was I a bad boy?"
"Do you not love me anymore?"
"If I promise to give away my toys, can I stay with you?"
Imlie had watched Tanvi hold her son, love and maternal instinct oozing from every word she used to calm his worries, hugging and kissing him, reinforcing their love for him. She had stood by and watched Jai hold his family in his arms, his face scrunched, trying his best to not breakdown for their sake.
No one seeing them thus would have doubted their bond, and Imlie had developed a burning need to help them. To help this child keep his family.
She'd kept hitting dead end after dead end and then Aryan had walked in, with his all knowing eyes and his all consuming presence. When he'd asked her what was wrong, instead of snapping at him like she thought she would, she'd cried.
Everything that was bothering her had come tumbling out. And when she was nearly done, Aryan had wrapped her in his arms without asking. She hadn't resisted, instead, snuggling into him, needing comfort in that moment.
Her tears had wet his shirt and he hadn't seemed to mind. He had held her, until she slipped her arms around his waist, her cheeks resting on his chest, the sound of his strong heartbeat calming her. He had rubbed her back, soothing her, whispering words of encouragement as she'd noisily sniffed and hiccuped, feeling very much like a young child herself.
And when the words ran out, they'd stood there, their arms locked around each other, Imlie drawing strength from his quiet support. He'd bent his head to inhale her scent, nuzzling into her crown, resisting the urge to kiss her forehead.
It had been getting tough for him to hold back from openly showing affection. The longer she maintained a distance, the harder it got.
"This doesn't change anything, ok?" she'd mumbled against his chest after a while. "I still don't forgive you."
Aryan had chuckled sadly then. "Understood. Just a friendly hug, nothing else."
She'd pulled her head back to look at him, her arms slowly loosening. Suddenly serious, she'd declared.
"We're not friends, Aryan."
He'd said that so often, it shouldn't have hurt him to hear that. But it did.
"What are we then?" he asked, just as quietly as she had.
She'd left without responding, and he'd let her go, knowing that he couldn't push for an answer yet.
That was over a week ago. In the days following, he had been there for her when she needed it, hoping that she'd reach out to him like she used to. But it seemed like after her breakdown in the library, she'd found a new sense of control to stay away from him.
Sometimes, if he got under her skin enough, he could almost see the old spitfire Imlie who used to go around teasing him and fighting with him.
Sometimes, he saw the same desire flash in her eyes as the evening by the pool.
When he helped her with her seatbelt, when he leaned over her desk to check her work reports, when they'd collided in the hallways.
He had made use of every opportunity provided by providence, and had manipulated some of his own to make sure that he could break through the fortress she'd constructed around herself.
But something held her back, and damned if he knew what that was. As soon as the old Imlie surfaced for a minute, something reeled her back into the quiet version that he was being punished with.
He missed her chatter. He never thought he'd see the day when he would feel that way but there it was. He missed her non-stop talking, her calling him weird names and finding something stupid to laugh about.
He glanced at her once more. She was still lost in her thoughts.
A quiet Imlie, if possible, was more bothersome than a talkative one.
"Do you want the stereo on?" he asked in an attempt to get her to speak.
She looked at him, eyes narrowing at the sudden solicitousness.
"Up to you," she said, crossing her arms and sitting back, turning her face away once more.
Her lips jutted out as she tried to rein in her annoyance with this whole evening.
First, Kaki ma and Arpita Didi had pulled out of attending the party at the last minute, which meant that there was no one to serve as a buffer between Aryan and her.
Second, she'd been blackmailed into this dress that was far too tight and revealing. She glanced down at herself, surreptitiously pulling her dress up to cover the little cleavage that still felt like a lot for a village girl like her.
"You can barely see anything!" Didi had scolded her when Imlie had wrapped herself in her blanket, wailing that her boobs were falling out of her dress and that there was no way she could put her body on display in such a manner. All her dramatics and whining had not swayed Arpita this time, who had pulled and plucked Imlie till her brows were perfect, her skin flawless and her hair falling down her back like a sheet of silk.
Imlie could have somehow learnt to deal with both these issues, she griped, had it not been for the third and biggest reason for her irritation, which was Aryan himself.
What about Aryan was making her angry, you ask? All of him.
Everything about him was annoying her.
Why did he need to be so handsome that every girl was clamoring after him at the party? He needed to stop wearing black, she decided, giving him the side eye once.
The form fitting black shirt and suit, paired with formal slacks and single emerald tie had him looking like the Indian version of a very sexy Slytherin, she'd heard one lady sigh at the table in front of her where Imlie had sat, watching Aryan move about like a lithe panther.
This had been right before the same lady commented on his very lovely posterior, shaping it in the air, making grabbing gestures that had sent her friends into fits of titters and giggles.
Imlie had been sorely tempted to park the fork she'd been using in the woman's hands.
It was a good thing she had not had enough forks on her table or else they would have all gone home with matching injuries.
And would it have killed him to sit down instead of dancing half the night and putting on a show for all and sundry? She scowled so hard, she could feel her bindi shift on her forehead.
He asked you though, the voice in her head argued. Sigh. Even her inner voice took his side over hers.
The party had been going well with Imlie and Aryan making their rounds and representing Bhaskar Times wonderfully. Aryan had been happy to push Imlie forward to accept every congratulations. At one point, the dance floor had opened up and Jai had tried to usher them towards it.
"Dance?" Aryan had asked, putting his hand out. In an effort to keep her wits about her, Imlie had chosen offense as her main defense, and stepped on his foot purposely causing Aryan to wince.
Imlie had widened her eyes and slapped her mouth theatrically.
"Whoops! I'm so sorry," she'd apologized with a syrupy sweet, utterly fake smile.
She was certain she'd heard him mutter 'jungli' under his breath.
"It's the dress," she explained, trying to sound innocent. "It's too long and I can't walk in heels very well."
"You seemed to be doing fine while we were meeting everyone before," he'd countered, eyes narrowing.
"Well, what can I say? I trip a lot and you don't want to spend your evening saving me from falling down, do you?"
"Don't I?" he'd asked quietly, a frank and unbidden heat in his eyes. Imlie's smile had faltered at that, not knowing how to respond. They'd been interrupted loudly by a lady in blue who'd hugged Aryan without warning.
Initially confused, Aryan had quickly recovered, smiling and hugging her back. Imlie had looked between the two of them, her consternation growing as they indulged in an easy conversation, the likes that did not need input from a third party.
Aryan had introduced her to his friend who in turn had insisted on reminiscing the good old days by pulling him onto the dance floor.
It was like Aryan forgot he'd come with Imlie. His wife. Even if no one else knew that, he should have known, she thought grumpily.
Imlie hadn't liked being ignored. Not at all.
One song after the next, Imlie sat on the sidelines watching Aryan and his friend strut about, swinging to the music and chatting for all the world to see.
Did the woman not know how to speak without touching him? She'd complained to herself, her eyes focused on the feminine hand that lay very comfortably upon Aryan's arm. If she'd been a cartoon, laser beams would have erupted from her eyes and burned the hand that had been touching Aryan.
Unfortunately, Imlie was not a cartoon and she had suffered in silence as they enjoyed themselves without a thought given to her.
ANOTHER HUG? How many hugs does a person need? Imlie sulked, shooting them a dirty look. That woman was grinning far too happily for her comfort.
At one point, she caught Imlie staring at them and waved. When Aryan turned as well, it was with a small smirk.
Unwilling to give them the satisfaction of having her attention, Imlie had pettily pretended to not notice them, turning instead to the young man seated with her who'd been trying to flirt with her all evening.
She couldn't recall a single thing that boy had told her about himself, she realised, her eyes focusing on the road that turned towards Rathore Mansion. She couldn't even remember his name, but she could remember every time Aryan had laughed that hadn't been because of her.
Imlie harrumphed, crossing her hands once more.
"Now what was that for?" Aryan asked, finally at his wits end. She'd been slowly making odd sounds, almost like she was talking to herself. That Hmph was loud enough that he couldn't ignore it.
"Imlie?"
"Ka ka ka?" She asked vexedly, having worked herself up into a snit by remembering Aryan and his friend looking a bit too cozy.
"What do you mean ka?" Aryan griped. "I'm not used to you being this quiet. It's freaking me out, ok? Can't you say something?"
"I'm not here to entertain you. You can ask your friend to do that."
"What? Who are you talking about?"
"Oo."
"Oo?" He knew he wasn't as good at hindi as Imlie but surely this word was entirely made up. Just to be certain, he confirmed, "What oo?"
"What naahi, who."
"What?"
"Who!" Imlie repeated, looking at him like he was an imbecile.
"Imlie, dont drive me crazy and just tell me who you're talking about."
"Oo ABCD waali," she replied with a roll of her eyes.
Aryan looked at her like she'd lost her mind a little. Or maybe he had. Maybe she'd finally succeeded in driving him insane.
"Who?" he asked once more, utterly confused.
"Your friend!" Imlie snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. "From the party. With the high heels and the tiny bag and the tight clothes and the big boo... belt! The way you were stuck to each other, I didn't think you'd forget her so easily."
His brow shot up. Was Imlie jealous? Aryan wanted to throw his head back and laugh.
He pulled into the driveway of Rathore Mansion, parking towards the side, near the front garden.
He turned the ignition off and shifted in his seat to look at her.
"My friend," he started, trying hard not to smile. "Do you mean Jay?"
"JKLM whatever her name was," Imlie responded in a peevish tone, causing him to bite the inside of his cheeks to maintain a straight face.
"Her name is Jay. Short for Juwii."
"Ka? Chuhi?" she gasped, slapping one hand on the dashboard and one against her chest. "You mean a mouse? Aisan kaisan naam rakh liyes?"
Imlie was being deliberately obtuse and they both knew it. She stepped out without waiting.
Aryan shook his head at her childishness as he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him.
It felt nice to be outside in the cool air. He sprinted a bit to catch up to Imlie who had started walking towards the house.
"She's my friend from school," he explained as she walked a couple of paces ahead of him.
"I didn't ask."
"She's quite pretty, isn't she?"
Imlie whipped around and stomped back to him.
"Dekho, tum na bahutai zyaada bakwaas na karo ab," she growled through gritted teeth, stopping a mere feet from me. She was inclined to claw that pretty face right now if given a chance.
"Bakwaas?" He threw his hands up in an innocent gesture, pointing towards himself. "Me? I was just complimenting a friend."
Chuhiya is a friend but God forbid he ever admits I was a friend too! She grouched, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Yes, yes, go make friends everywhere! In fact, your 11th business should be friends without borders. Traveling the world making charitable friendships!"
"Not a bad idea. Jay might be interested in that."
Imlie's mouth dropped open in outrage. It was her idea and he wanted Chuhi as a partner?! She suddenly had vision of multiple peet ma koni's for Aryan for being so.... friendly!!!
She very nearly admitted this but stopped herself with a shake of her head, having changed her mind.
Aryan was enjoying himself immensely. Seeing Imlie react like this after days and days of trying to remain aloof finally made it seem like he was making headway.
"She dances well too, don't you think?" he needled her.
Imlie stayed silent, her lips forming a tight line. Don't react Imaliya. You don't care about his opinion.
"I had fun after a long time."
Excuse me? Imaliya is the most fun, you ghonchu!
"Too bad you don't know how to dance. You could have joined us."
"I do so know how to dance!" she spit out, fuming now. Really, now this was too much. She was a fantastic dancer, thank you very much!
Aryan raised a brow as though doubting her statement.
"Really? Prove it. Dance with me."
"No, thank you. Aren't you tired of dancing all night with your friend?" she sneered, stressing on the last word as though it was an insult.
"There was only one person I wanted to dance with tonight, and that was you," he said, his brown eyes deepening with sincerity.
Imlie blinked once. And then scoffed. "Oh please," she threw a wave as turned around to start walking down the path.
"Eek!"
Without a warning, Aryan grabbed her hand and pulled her in, twirling her once, twice, thrice. He spun her gently out, stretching his hands and then tugged her back in, her dress following each movement, billowing in and out about her legs. To anyone watching them, they looked like two fools in love, dancing in the garden in the middle of the night, not a care for what the world would think.
Before Imlie could catch her breath, he was twirling her again. By the fourth twirl, she was laughing in exhilaration and he was smiling at her happily. With the final turn, he let go of her hand as she spun into him, her forehead coming to rest over his heart. She was laughing but dizzy as she held onto the lapels of his jacket for support, breathing hard.
Aryan gazed down at her, holding on to her slim frame with both hands, steadying her swaying body. As her dizziness receded, she glanced up to find him staring at her with a soft smile.
"It's good to finally hear you laugh," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed a lock of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers trailed softly down the edges of her jaw, stroking her chin with his thumb, making her smile falter, her eyes searching his face.
She felt a light pressure on her waist as he pulled her closer, slow and steady. As her body pushed into his, she sighed involuntarily. She could have pulled away if she wanted. He wasn't holding her tight. But she missed being close to him, she recognized.
In all the days of her trying to avoid him, she had never stopped missing him. She'd dreamt of him holding her more than once. If she were honest, she'd dreamt of more than that too.
And now, in his arms, she suddenly didn't know why she was forcing herself to stay away from him. They were husband and wife. They had a fight. They could get over it, couldn't they?
It was Aryan, after all. Her Aryan.
That thought stunned her for a second.
When had she started thinking of him as Her Aryan?
In the dark night, he seemed impossibly handsome. The solar lamps around the garden flickered, adding a soft movement to each shadow that fell across the curves of his face.
Imlie raised one hand without thinking, to gently trace the broken brow that had haunted her in her dreams and enticed her when awake. Aryan's eyes closed at the fluttering fingers that were investigating his features, his breathing slowing down, more affected by her touch than he'd expected.
If he'd been surprised by her boldness, he didn't show it. He'd seen a veritable change in her emotions before her eyes had taken on a faraway look. He felt her knuckles graze across his cheeks, down to his bearded jaw.
He opened his eyes and looked down to see her quietly tracking her fingers as they moved out to his lips, her eyes glazed, raising up until she met his.
They both stood still, as the air crackled with tension. In a heartbeat, his mouth descended on hers. Imlie sunk into the feeling of warm lips moving over hers, soft at first, turning insistent and maddening almost instantly.
Aryan held her to him as though she'd disappear, his mouth moving over hers with long, deep kisses, teasing her lips apart. His tongue searched her, tasting the minty sweetness of the desert she'd consumed.
The winds whistled around them as the clouds opened, showering the clueless couple with hot wet drops. Their attires soaked through but they didn't break apart, lost in their desires, the dampness of their clothing a stark contrast to the heat rising in their bodies.
Aryan nibbled his way to her chin, drinking in the wet drops running down her skin. He nudged her head to the side as he placed hot, open mouthed kisses on her skin, his tongue flicking at the sensitive strip down the column of her neck, stopping at the base to suck and soothe her.
Imlie saw stars behind closed eyes as she bit her lip against the moan that was about to escape any minute. She was certain she was on fire everywhere he touched, her breathing labored and coming in short gasps as she gave in to this fascinatingly new feeling.
He nipped and kissed along the collarbone that had enchanted him all evening, scraping it with his teeth in a delicious punishment before soothing it with warm lips.
The coolness of the rain whipped them into a frenzy, wanting to be closer, to feel warmer, hotter, and burn together. He teasingly kissed his way up to the back of her ear, pressing his tongue under her lobe which made her breath hitch, a soft veneration escaping her at the onslaught on her senses. She felt his beard brush against her jaw as he moved back up to take her mouth again in a deep, unyielding kiss. She raised up to her tiptoes, her hands curled into his collar, pulling him towards her and pushing herself into him more, helpless against her body's demands.
As her emotions swirled to new heights, a sudden shrill sound burst through her ears, escalating to an unbearable pitch. She gasped in pain, her eyes flying open in fear.
Tumhe kya lagta hai? Ki koi doosra aakar tumhe ghar le jaayega?
Koi doosra aakar maafi maang lega?
Tumhe pyaar dega? Kya?!
She pushed at Aryan's chest causing him to stumble back at the unexpected force. She stared at him in alarm, her face crumpling when she realized that his current visage matched her memory. His hair spiked over his forehead, damp black clothes sticking to him, the two of them standing in the rain in the middle of a deserted road.
The same road that she'd been left behind on. By him.
Tumhara sirf breakup hua hai. Koi marr nahi gaya hai.
Her tears mingled with the rain that was pelting them both as she whipped around and dashed into the house.
Aryan stood stupefied for a second before taking off after her.
No, he wouldn't let her leave this time without explaining herself. They had just been kissing, goddammit! She had initiated it and now she'd pulled back yet again!
He'd seen the sudden change, the conflict in her face. He needed to know what it was that evoked this response. He needed answers.
"Imlie!" he called, as he strode after her, uncaring that he was being loud at that this late hour. She'd already entered the house when she felt Aryan grab her arm and spin her around.
"You can't just leave. What the hell happened?"
"Aryan, I can't. Not right now," she begged, teary eyed. She didn't even know what to say to him. How would she explain the memory that had caused her to shove him away when only moments ago she'd been blissfully happy in his arms? She felt overwhelmed beyond her understanding.
"It has to be righ.."
"Imaliya?" a warm voice interrupted them at the end of the hall.
Both of them turned to see the person standing there, smiling at Imlie with utmost love.
"Dadda?" Imlie gasped, rushing into his outstretched arms without delay.
Aryan watched Imlie reunite with her step-father and mother, knowing that his answers will have to wait. His fists clenched in frustration as his heart thudded painfully in his chest, recalling the distress on her face.
What was Imlie hiding from him, and why?
He saw her glance at him, quickly looking away as though wanting to escape. As though she was concealing herself from him once more.
He observed her trying to focus on talking to her family, her smile never reaching her eyes. Her lips were still pink and swollen from his kiss. She shifted her dupatta and Aryan caught sight of a red welt beginning to form at her collarbone.
She didn't even know it but the their impassioned encounter had begun to leave its mark on her.
Yet, instead of being alone somewhere exploring that very delightful activity, Aryan was watching her walk away with her mother to change out of her wet clothes and retire for bed.
She left, taking his peace with her and condemning him to another achingly silent night.
He would wait for his answers, he decided.
But he wouldn't allow her to be silent anymore.