Joined: 26 October 2008
Joined: 27 April 2007
Joined: 28 July 2008
Thank you guys sooooooooo much for appriciating my work!
ill try to keep this up k?
so heres the next part, i feel like its progressing slower than i want so dont be surprised if the next parts a little quick
Getting out of the taxi Armaan pulled out one of his most prized possessions. His basketball, the same basketball that had earned Rhiddima Gupta the name Basket, the same one she had used when she first beat him at his own game. Yes, he remembered it all, every single bit of it. Her bright yellow and orange outfit the first time they'd met, the ketchup trick he'd pulled on her, their fights, when she'd first said I love you. When everyone had found out, and he'd gone on a hunger strike, when they had their roka, and then the fights after. He remembered the secret meetings, sweet kisses, passionate hugs, their unforgettable moments. He'd lost his memory then, sure, but he had it back now. He remembered their last moment together, when he'd slid the ring onto her finger, they had been so happy….
And now it's all changed. Now she was someone else's. Someone else had the right to touch her, feel her. Someone else held her in his arms and kissed away her tears. She belonged to someone else now. She was… she was Mrs. Siddhant Modi. It was all over for Armaan now… there was no real reason to stay. Nothing but his conflicted feelings, his boiling blood at the thought of someone else having the right to her over him. It was unjustified, he had left her, she deserved a better life, but all that didn't matter. At this moment Armaan Malik was a hurt man. He knew he was wrong to think like this, he couldn't expect her to wait for him forever; in fact this is what he had wanted. He had wanted her to be happy, and if that was with someone else, then so be it. But he wasn't feeling very rational, or very gracious.
'She had seemed happy,' he thought bitterly, laughing, teasing, and holding hands together. All those things that they used to do. And she… she had a daughter, named Ashita. They, Siddhant and Rhiddima, had a life together. A life that was supposed to have been his. 'Armaan what are thinking man?!?' he asked himself. 'This is what you wanted, now leave and leave them be!' he willed himself to get up and leave. But he didn't get far.
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