Posted:
Index :
Chapter 1.1 - Page 1 (i.e. Down)
Promo - Page 2
Chapter 1.2 - Page 3
Chapter 2 - Page 4
______________________________________________________________
FF Name - "Accidentally In Love"
FF Writer - Ehsaas
Hey Guys,
So Presenting a new FF - "Accidentally In Love" {Actually, I'm not liking this name at all, So If you have any other name in your mind, please do tell me}
Well, This FF is not gonna last long, maybe it'll end in 10 - 15 chapters, or Whatever
I'm gonna update it whenever i get time, no particular day for it !!!
And those who are wondering about Private Emotions...............
Keep Wondering !!!!!!
So,
Ready,
Set,
GO !!!
*Remember - This story is from Riddhima's Perspective* (Most Of The Time)
Chapter 1.1
Their First Meeting
Funny, how sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night panting, your heart racing, you don't know why. You look around in the darkness; you could be anywhere - in a runaway subway tearing through the night, in an elevator plunging without breaks, in an outer space without God or stars. So this is it, you think. And you look around and see the shadows, you see the outline of the bed, the dresser, the lamp, the windows, and your heart stops fleeing, it chugs to a tired halt. Nothing's changed, you realize; you're exactly where you were. Except, now you're not. The shapes in the darkness are unfamiliar; the lumpy black thing in the corner, you have no idea what it is...... no, you do: it's a coffee maker. You are in a hotel room in New Delhi.
The scaffolding that holds me up falls away for just a second. A hotel room halfway around the globe. I could just as well be in a bottle in the middle of the Atlantic, corked and sealed, and thousands of miles from anywhere.
Something stirs beside me; It's Di under the hotel sheets. She squirms a little, tucks an arm under her pillow and curls up her knees against her chest. I lean over and pull the blanket around her, watch her silhouette settle back into sleep, feel the calm, heavy and still, settle inside me again.
Of course, I think, Di
I sit up beneath the thin blanket and grope around for the clock. Its fluorescent numbers tell me it is three a.m., August the thirteenth. I pull the blanket closer. Hotel air conditioning; it makes it hard to imagine the heat outside. But it's there, I know, lurking in the darkness like the rest of the city. This room at the Hyatt with its climate control and insulated walls, its coffee maker and mini bar, is a mirage, a little care package filled with Americana that Kaleidoscope has provided us with and that will last only so long. And after that........
The hotel lobby is quiet when I step out of the elevator. A woman in housekeeping grey-and-white, at work with a giant mop, looks up startled as the elevator doors part, she stammers out a quick 'good morning' and bobs out of the way. I make my way across the glistening marble floor. In the far corner in a group of people: a smart young guy in a suit conferencing in a loose circle with a few uniformed housekeeping staff. They looks up as I enter; the suited guy breaks away and takes a few steps towards me.
"Good Morning Ma'am. Can I help you with something?"
"No, thanks"
"Were you looking for the coffee shop? We could have something sent up..."
"No, I'll just find a nice corner to read in"
A faint smile crosses his face and reveals his dimples as he sees the pink cover of the book I'm carrying. "I'm Armaan Mallik" he says, "your night manager. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, but I'm sure i won't."
I hide the book behind me, feel his eyes follow me as I make my way across the lobby, to the aclove at the very end.
The little nook, like the rest of the lobby, is deserted at this hour, thank goodness. It has a plush sofa, a love seat and a coffee table; it is partly hidden from view by a pillar and a gigantic fern. A perfect spot in which to acclimatize. I sit down in the love seat, see my reflection in the dark windows behind the sofa follow suit. How odd I look, I think. A short figure in a big sofa; straight hair that fall forward; pointy chin and button nose, shoulders that hunch. I straighten them, my shoulders, and open my book in my lap. I am going to sit here, in this hotel lobby, amongst these people, and I am going to be just a regular girl reading a regular book. And so what if the book has a pink cover? It is a best-seller and a parting present from Nikki. She has sworn by it; she says it is her favorite romance novel ever, and that should mean something because she has read thousands. And she has dog-eared the steamy bits for me, just in case. I notice now that more than half of the book is dog-eared.
I start to read. There are glorious bodies, burning lips, shudders and throbs.
I put the book away. It is no use; I will never get it, romance. Funny, how Nikki and I both has Kevin Garnett posters for our lockers but for entirely different reasons; how she looked at Brad Anderson and saw baby blues while I looked at him and saw prime-grade asshole. Even the non-assholes, that sweet guy from Mexico who'd asked me out.
A reflection of someone passing behind me flickers across the window and brings me back to the hotel lounge and the present. I turn back to the book in my lap; open it to somewhere in the middle. So now, Miranda, the heroine, is getting ready to go out for a party. She's going to Thor's socks off, the bas***d, she is going to show him what he's thrown away; she's debating between a midnight blue dress or a more demure ivory blouse......I flip the page Miranda is now choosing shoes, I flip the page again, now she's choosing the jewellery. I shut the book; start to wonder if this gift is Nikki's idea of a practical joke. Romance and Fashion. She may as well have given me a knife to slit my throat with. Thank goodness for jeans and tees and good strong sneakers.
I stare down at the scuff in my sneakers and shudder at how close I'd come to losing them yesterday. Tara-aunty ignoring all protests, had insisted on taking us shopping.Lajpat Nagar, she's assured us, was the equal of a hundred glitzy malls. 'Don't think it's one of these fly-by-night confections either,' she'd said with a quite pride.
Atul had thrown me a life line. "Don't go," he'd said "We'll play some basketball."
"But Riddhima needs Indian Clothes," Tara-aunty had insisted
"But jeans are Indian Clothes."
"Yes, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind something feminine for a change."
Atul had grinned to see me wince. "Stay," Atul had said, "I'll take you around to meet the gang."
I'd gone cold. I'd told him I should go get some feminine Indian clothes instead.
A movement in the window makes me look up; I follow the reflection of a housekeeping staff member emptying bud vases and polishing tabletops in the aclove adjacent to mine. Behind him, another young man trundles up with a tall cart filled with flowers. There are buckets of gladiolas and lilies and daisies, and ferns and roses.
-----
To Be Continued........
Mujhse isse jyada likha nahi gaya, sorry
please co-operate !!
aur please please please comment ! [/DIV]
Chapter 1.1 - Page 1 (i.e. Down)
Promo - Page 2
Chapter 1.2 - Page 3
Chapter 2 - Page 4
______________________________________________________________
FF Name - "Accidentally In Love"
FF Writer - Ehsaas
Hey Guys,
So Presenting a new FF - "Accidentally In Love" {Actually, I'm not liking this name at all, So If you have any other name in your mind, please do tell me}
Well, This FF is not gonna last long, maybe it'll end in 10 - 15 chapters, or Whatever
I'm gonna update it whenever i get time, no particular day for it !!!
And those who are wondering about Private Emotions...............
Keep Wondering !!!!!!
So,
Ready,
Set,
GO !!!
*Remember - This story is from Riddhima's Perspective* (Most Of The Time)
Chapter 1.1
Their First Meeting
Funny, how sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night panting, your heart racing, you don't know why. You look around in the darkness; you could be anywhere - in a runaway subway tearing through the night, in an elevator plunging without breaks, in an outer space without God or stars. So this is it, you think. And you look around and see the shadows, you see the outline of the bed, the dresser, the lamp, the windows, and your heart stops fleeing, it chugs to a tired halt. Nothing's changed, you realize; you're exactly where you were. Except, now you're not. The shapes in the darkness are unfamiliar; the lumpy black thing in the corner, you have no idea what it is...... no, you do: it's a coffee maker. You are in a hotel room in New Delhi.
The scaffolding that holds me up falls away for just a second. A hotel room halfway around the globe. I could just as well be in a bottle in the middle of the Atlantic, corked and sealed, and thousands of miles from anywhere.
Something stirs beside me; It's Di under the hotel sheets. She squirms a little, tucks an arm under her pillow and curls up her knees against her chest. I lean over and pull the blanket around her, watch her silhouette settle back into sleep, feel the calm, heavy and still, settle inside me again.
Of course, I think, Di
I sit up beneath the thin blanket and grope around for the clock. Its fluorescent numbers tell me it is three a.m., August the thirteenth. I pull the blanket closer. Hotel air conditioning; it makes it hard to imagine the heat outside. But it's there, I know, lurking in the darkness like the rest of the city. This room at the Hyatt with its climate control and insulated walls, its coffee maker and mini bar, is a mirage, a little care package filled with Americana that Kaleidoscope has provided us with and that will last only so long. And after that........
The hotel lobby is quiet when I step out of the elevator. A woman in housekeeping grey-and-white, at work with a giant mop, looks up startled as the elevator doors part, she stammers out a quick 'good morning' and bobs out of the way. I make my way across the glistening marble floor. In the far corner in a group of people: a smart young guy in a suit conferencing in a loose circle with a few uniformed housekeeping staff. They looks up as I enter; the suited guy breaks away and takes a few steps towards me.
"Good Morning Ma'am. Can I help you with something?"
"No, thanks"
"Were you looking for the coffee shop? We could have something sent up..."
"No, I'll just find a nice corner to read in"
A faint smile crosses his face and reveals his dimples as he sees the pink cover of the book I'm carrying. "I'm Armaan Mallik" he says, "your night manager. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, but I'm sure i won't."
I hide the book behind me, feel his eyes follow me as I make my way across the lobby, to the aclove at the very end.
The little nook, like the rest of the lobby, is deserted at this hour, thank goodness. It has a plush sofa, a love seat and a coffee table; it is partly hidden from view by a pillar and a gigantic fern. A perfect spot in which to acclimatize. I sit down in the love seat, see my reflection in the dark windows behind the sofa follow suit. How odd I look, I think. A short figure in a big sofa; straight hair that fall forward; pointy chin and button nose, shoulders that hunch. I straighten them, my shoulders, and open my book in my lap. I am going to sit here, in this hotel lobby, amongst these people, and I am going to be just a regular girl reading a regular book. And so what if the book has a pink cover? It is a best-seller and a parting present from Nikki. She has sworn by it; she says it is her favorite romance novel ever, and that should mean something because she has read thousands. And she has dog-eared the steamy bits for me, just in case. I notice now that more than half of the book is dog-eared.
I start to read. There are glorious bodies, burning lips, shudders and throbs.
I put the book away. It is no use; I will never get it, romance. Funny, how Nikki and I both has Kevin Garnett posters for our lockers but for entirely different reasons; how she looked at Brad Anderson and saw baby blues while I looked at him and saw prime-grade asshole. Even the non-assholes, that sweet guy from Mexico who'd asked me out.
A reflection of someone passing behind me flickers across the window and brings me back to the hotel lounge and the present. I turn back to the book in my lap; open it to somewhere in the middle. So now, Miranda, the heroine, is getting ready to go out for a party. She's going to Thor's socks off, the bas***d, she is going to show him what he's thrown away; she's debating between a midnight blue dress or a more demure ivory blouse......I flip the page Miranda is now choosing shoes, I flip the page again, now she's choosing the jewellery. I shut the book; start to wonder if this gift is Nikki's idea of a practical joke. Romance and Fashion. She may as well have given me a knife to slit my throat with. Thank goodness for jeans and tees and good strong sneakers.
I stare down at the scuff in my sneakers and shudder at how close I'd come to losing them yesterday. Tara-aunty ignoring all protests, had insisted on taking us shopping.Lajpat Nagar, she's assured us, was the equal of a hundred glitzy malls. 'Don't think it's one of these fly-by-night confections either,' she'd said with a quite pride.
Atul had thrown me a life line. "Don't go," he'd said "We'll play some basketball."
"But Riddhima needs Indian Clothes," Tara-aunty had insisted
"But jeans are Indian Clothes."
"Yes, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind something feminine for a change."
Atul had grinned to see me wince. "Stay," Atul had said, "I'll take you around to meet the gang."
I'd gone cold. I'd told him I should go get some feminine Indian clothes instead.
A movement in the window makes me look up; I follow the reflection of a housekeeping staff member emptying bud vases and polishing tabletops in the aclove adjacent to mine. Behind him, another young man trundles up with a tall cart filled with flowers. There are buckets of gladiolas and lilies and daisies, and ferns and roses.
-----
To Be Continued........
Mujhse isse jyada likha nahi gaya, sorry
please co-operate !!
aur please please please comment ! [/DIV]
comment:
p_commentcount