Originally posted by: MaNaLoVeKaSh
awesome parts
love to read
continue soon
plz pm me
Originally posted by: krazy4kash
hey
this ff is great if u coud pm me the next time you update plzzz
luv
kj
hey that was really amazing n superb part..
loved how armi messed up with her maasi..
n gave her a piece of mind...
loved ARSH alot..
it was sooo cute n beautiful..
i wish he take her wid him..
thnx for the pm,...
Originally posted by: anumeha_rajat
hey that was really amazing n superb part..
loved how armi messed up with her maasi..
n gave her a piece of mind...
loved ARSH alot..
it was sooo cute n beautiful..
i wish he take her wid him..
thnx for the pm,...
Finally ! I got time to read that MINDBLOWING part ! I so loved it dear... wow !
I loved how Armaan defended her against her mean aunt, it was so heart touching. And you described both their emotions so well... I could picture the whole scenes in front of me. As usual, really well written ! :)Thanks for writting this, please continue soon !
Love you :)
Chapter 7
"So...Armaan seems nice."
Shilpa glanced up from the magazine she had been idly flicking through and met Sapna's sparkling brown eyes. It was the next day and Sapna had come to visit her during her morning break. She was currently perched on the side of the hospital bed, looking down at her with arched eyebrows and a far-too smug smile on her face.
Shilpa narrowed her eyes at her and slapped the magazine shut. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Sapna shrugged, but her eyes glinted mischievously. "I'm just saying, he seems like a genuinely kind-hearted guy."
"Hmm." Shilpa felt heat creeping into her face, so she lowered her eyes. Unconsciously she had started to rub her fingers over the back of her hand – the one Armaan had held last night. Her heart gave a startled little thump as she realised what she'd been doing and she quickly dropped her hand down by her side.
"Is that all you're going to say?" Sapna asked, sounding disappointed.
"What do you want me to say? I only met him last night and I spent most of that unconscious."
Sapna pursed her lips, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "He looked really worried when he brought you in last night," she said after a minute. "He seemed to really care about you."
"I'm sure it was just the shock of witnessing the accident," Shilpa replied, trying to hide her sudden attack of breathlessness.
She knew it was stupid to react like this, that she shouldn't care about the fact he'd been worried, that she shouldn't even have been thinking about him at all. He was probably just some very kind, very helpful person who had been doing his civilian duty by helping her. Just because he had held her hand and comforted her didn't mean he actually cared about her. At least, that was what she had to tell herself, because allowing herself, even for one second, to believe that he harboured some affection for her would only lead to heartbreak. Hadn't she already learned that?
But whenever she thought of last night, of the way he'd seemed to understand her in the park, and the firm, reassuring way he'd held her hand and told her she was a good person, her heart started to flutter. And it didn't matter how many times she told herself she was probably never going to see him again, she kept casting her eyes to the doorway as if he might wander in at any minute. She'd been doing it all morning and there was no denying the sharp stab of disappointed she experienced every time he wasn't there.
"Uh-huh," Sapna said sceptically. "That was why he hung around all night and then sneaked back into your room after he was asked to leave."
Shilpa's head snapped up, eyes wide. "How do you know about that?"
"Dr Hughes told me about it this morning," Sapna replied with a wink. "He told me all about how he caught you two holding hands."
"We weren't holding hands!" Shilpa protested. Sapna just arched her eyebrows higher. "Okay, fine, we were, but it wasn't like that. It was... He was just making me feel better."
"Oh, I bet he was."
"Sapna!" Shilpa's face was burning and she'd never felt more embarrassed in her entire life.
Sapna was completely unrepentant, though. "Dr Malhotra, are you blushing?"
"I think she is."
Both girls' heads whipped round at the new voice, and when Shilpa saw who was standing in the doorway she nearly died of shame. Leaning against the doorframe, a small, crooked smile on his face, blue eyes lit up by the light falling on him from the window, was Armaan. He was dressed casually, in a pair of light-coloured jeans and black sweater. His hair was all mussed-up again, like he'd forgotten to brush it, and there was another layer of stubble on his chin. But he looked utterly adorable and charming, and her heart started to race wildly at the sight of him.
"Armaan?" she breathed.
At the sound of her voice he suddenly straightened. Until then he'd been gazing at her in a kind of trance, admiring the way the sunlight filtering through the window brought out coppery tints in her hair. But when she spoke his heart gave a kicking beat and he became acutely self-conscious. He ran a hand over the back of his head nervously, dropping his eyes to the floor as an inexplicable rush of heat swept over his face. He could feel her eyes on him and though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt as if she could see into his mind and read the jumble of thoughts in it.
"Uh, hi," he said. And then, as if to cement his embarrassment, he did a goofy little wave. Oh God, someone shoot me now, he thought as he saw her eyebrows rise. Feeling utterly mortified, he stepped into the room and started to babble. "I, er, brought you some chocolates."
Shilpa's eyes followed the sweep of his arm as he held out a large square box with a soft pink ribbon. "You do like chocolates, right?" he asked. "You're not one of those girls who doesn't eat chocolates because they make you fat, are you?"
Her eyes widened and with a jolt of horror he realised what he'd just said. He rushed to rectify his mistake, stumbling over his words because he was so flustered. "Not that I think you're fat or anything! No, I don't think that at all! I think you're just perfect. I mean, you have a lovely body...figure! You have a...lovely...figure."
Just shut the hell up, he screamed at himself. On a scale of one to ten, this had to be the most humiliated he had ever felt. He didn't even understand why he was behaving like this. Confidence and charm were two of his best qualities, at least, he'd thought so until today. But somehow, stepping from the corridor into Shilpa's room had worked a personality change in him. That was the only explanation he could find for why he was suddenly rambling like an idiot.
It didn't help that she was just staring at him, those green eyes so large and dark and completely unreadable. Her expression was guarded so he had no way of knowing what was going on in her mind. For all he knew she was seriously offended by his comments and contemplating calling security to have him removed. Honestly, after that dismal performance, he wouldn't have blamed her.
"It's okay," she finally said. "I like chocolates."
It sounded lame, she knew that, but she didn't have a clue what else to say. She was too overwhelmed by the fact he'd actually brought her a gift and his compliments on her figure. No one ever bothered to give her any presents. Oh, she'd gotten them on birthdays and there was always one at Christmas, but no one had ever given her one just because. The fact that Armaan had gone to the trouble of bringing the chocolates because he thought it might cheer her up was nothing short of amazing in her eyes. She didn't know how to react, but the sight of that box filled her with warmth and an absurd sense of gratitude that had tears pricking the backs of her eyes.
And then there was his admission that he thought she looked good. Granted, he hadn't been all that smooth about it, but she didn't care. She couldn't remember the last time someone had actually told her she looked nice, and the fact he thought so meant more to her than it really should have. It was a struggle to keep her lips from breaking into an embarrassingly goofy smile.
"Really?" Armaan practically cried, relief lighting up his face. Shilpa nodded, her cheeks reddening.
"Shilpa loves anything sweet," Sapna commented, making them both glance at her. She knew they'd forgotten that she was in the room and it made her want to chuckle when she saw the mild shock in Armaan's face. It was like he had only just noticed her and she saw abashment darken his cheeks.
She glanced over at her friend and nearly burst out laughing at the look of sheer horror Shilpa was giving her. "I'll leave you two to it," she said, winking at Shilpa impishly.
I'm going to kill her, Shilpa thought, narrowing her eyes at Sapna as she rose to her feet and headed out the door. She was pretty certain she heard muffled sniggering once she'd left the room, but she didn't have time to dwell on it because Armaan had started to approach the bed and when she looked at him her mind couldn't focus on anything else.
He paused at the end of the bed and glanced down at the chocolate box he still clutched in his hands. He gave a little start, as if he'd forgotten all about it, and then held it out towards her with a bashful smile. "Chocolates."
Tentatively she reached out and took them from him, hoping he didn't notice the tremor in her hands. "Thanks."
She placed them on her lap, running her fingers over the box as if it were the most precious gift in the world. Moisture misted her eyes for a moment and she had to blink it back.
Armaan heard her sniffle and his face fell. "You don't like them, do you?"
"No!" her head shot up, eyes widening with alarm. "I mean, yes, I do like them. I love them, in fact. It was so nice of you to bring them for me."
Oh my God, I sound so stupid, she thought, inwardly cringing. She took a deep breath and tried again.
"You really didn't need to go to so much trouble."
"It was nothing," he waved a hand in the air. "I was going to bring you flowers but I didn't have time to get proper ones. I kinda overslept and I was running late and I passed this chocolate store on the way here and I thought that maybe you might like them."
He was talking so quickly it was hard to keep up, but there was something adorable about it that made a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. And then he said something that made her heart stop altogether.
"I'll bring you flowers next time. That's a promise."
The grin he flashed her was so bright and dazzling that it took her breath away. But it wasn't that that had her blood rushing through her veins like it does before you faint; it was those delicious two words – 'next time'. He was planning on visiting her again? She couldn't believe it; it was too much in line with her secret hopes, too good to be true, and she sure as hell hadn't done anything to merit his attention.
He's just being nice, she told herself firmly. You mustn't read too much into it. But when his eyes met hers a shiver of delight ran through her whole body.
"Sh-shouldn't you be at work?" she stammered, and then cringed at how rude that had sounded. "I mean, will you have time from work? If you're busy-"
"I'll come during my lunch break and on my way home," he replied, flashing her another of those killer smiles. "And today's Saturday, so there's no need to worry. I'm not playing truant."
"What is it that you do?" she asked. As a rule, she never bothered to enquire into people's backgrounds. The lives of others just didn't interest her. But she found herself eager to know every last detail about Armaan.
"I work in advertising," he told her. His eyes happened to fall on the magazine she'd been reading and he picked it up, flicking through it. "Ah! Here." He turned it round so she could see the page. "I worked on that," he said proudly.
It was a full-colour advertisement for a candy bar and it showed a cartoon kid, complete with baggy shorts and anime-style spiky hair, jumping up to catch the bar as it streaked through the sky. The caption read: Maximize - Now you can be a superhero too.
"It's amazing," Shilpa said, genuinely impressed. "Did you draw it?"
"I helped to." He sat down on the bed next to her feet, no longer feeling awkward. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was his work. It had been his passion for so long and he could talk about it for hours on end without getting bored. He loved every single part of the job, all the technicalities and processes that went into creating an advertisement. He knew that probably made him more of a nerd than he liked to admit, but somehow it didn't bother him sharing it with Shilpa. In fact, he wanted her to know all about it and why he loved it so much.
"I've always loved drawing," he told her. She noticed the way his eyes were all animated and shining. Excitement and energy seemed to pulse off of him in waves and as he spoke he moved his hands about and shifted constantly on the bed, like a small kid telling a story. It amused her, but it also fascinated her, and she couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.
"I was always doodling on stuff as a kid," he explained. "My mother used to complain because I drew all over the kitchen whiteboard and rubbed out her message list. But it was just something I liked to do. It's an outlet, you know. I can pour all my stress into and whatever emotion I'm feeling I can express it best through my drawings."
He had been smiling broadly, but she noticed it falter as he said this last bit and a dark shadow flitted across his eyes. She wondered what had caused it and was on the point of asking when he shook his head and glanced down at the magazine again.
"That was the last campaign I worked on," he said before she could speak. "It was one of my favourites. I fought really hard to convince them about the superhero theme though."
"They didn't like it?" she asked, watching his face closely. There was something about his expression that she recognised – a paleness in his skin, a darkness in his eyes, that made him seem haunted. She recognised it because she'd seen it on her own face the few times she'd dared to look at her reflection in the mirror.
"One person did," he answered quietly, absently. She got the feeling he was speaking more to himself than her. And then he shook himself and gave her a beaming smile, one that didn't make it to his eyes. "But I'll be starting a fresh campaign in the New Year. Maybe you can be my muse for it?"
Her stupid heart gave a delighted leap when he said that, even though she was sensible enough to realise he was just joking. Irritated with herself, she lowered her eyes so she wouldn't focus on the way his irises kept changing from light to dark blue.
"Maybe."
They sat in silence for several minutes, both of them lost to their own thoughts. Armaan watched Shilpa from under his lashes, and for the second time that day he was struck by how her hair glowed in the sunlight. A section of it had fallen across the bandage she still wore and covered the side of her face. Every now and then she would brush it back, only for it to fall forward again after a few minutes. He could tell from the knit of her brows that it was starting to annoy her. So, the next time it happened, he automatically leaned forward and caught it between his fingers, pushing it back firmly behind her ear.
She froze. Her eyes went wide as her heart thudded in her chest, a million shocks exploded in every nerve end in her body. His fingers lightly glided against her ear lobe and her skin tingled, sending a rush of heat all the way down her face and her neck. He was so close she could smell his deodorant and underneath that his scent, a combination of sweat and spice that made the back of her throat dry. She tried to swallow, but it didn't help.
Armaan started to pull back and as he did his eyes met hers. She was staring at him, her green eyes large and startled and a deeper shade of green than he would ever have imagined eyes could be. They arrested him and he paused, their faces only inches apart. He didn't comprehend the expression in her eyes, but it made his heart start to pound and a strange fluttery sensation take over his pulse.
This close he could make out the pale outline of a scar just below her bandage, at her temple. It was a fine, white ridge that looked for all the world like a vertebrae. The light was falling on that side of her face, emphasising it, making it seem almost luminescent. Without thinking he lifted his fingers and traced the line of Shilpa's scar, marvelling at how smooth it felt to the touch. It looked so rough and bumpy, he'd thought it would feel that way too, but it was as slick as satin. It was cool, too, like none of her body warmth ever reached it.
Fascinated his fingers stroked down the scar and as they did he was filled with a sudden burning anger at whatever had caused this mark. Something must have happened to scar her, and by the looks of things she had acquired it when she was much younger. He wondered if she'd gotten it when her aunt had struck her, and he was on the point of asking her, but then he glanced down at her and what he saw made him forget everything.
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she was biting her bottom lip so hard he could see a spot of blood next to the gleaming white of her teeth. That was when he realised what exactly he was doing and he snatched his fingers back with a startled thump of his heart. He jumped to his feet, face burning with shame, his fingers tingling from where they had touched her scar. All of a sudden there didn't seem to be enough air in the room and the temperature had shot up, making it stuffy and claustrophobic.
"I...uh...I'm just going to get a cup of coffee," he stammered, and then hurried toward the door, desperate to get out of there, to quell the frantic beating of his heart.
Shilpa watched him go, a tight knot in her chest, and the moment the door swung shut behind him she let out a deep, shuddering breath. Her mind was a tangle of conflicting emotions, induced by his touch. Her scar was actually throbbing, matching the erratic pounding of her heart. There was a burning sensation in her skin and she could taste blood in her mouth from where she'd bitten her lip. But worst of all was the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes, tears which had no right to be there.
You should know better by now, she chided herself. Doesn't everyone reject you? Then why should Armaan be any different?
But the way he had stroked her scar...it had felt like an intimate caress, and it had affected her more deeply than she cared to admit. She closed her eyes, trying to block the memory from her mind, but his scent still filled her nostrils and it was making her blood rush...
With a groan she opened her eyes and fixed them on her bed cover, hoping that if she focused on it solely all other thoughts would be driven from her mind.
And then a dark shadow fell over her. She glanced up sharply, hoping against hope that it was Armaan, that he'd come back and he'd be standing there smiling that goofy smile at her. Her heart even did a giddy little flip.
And then she saw the figure in the doorway and she froze.
Armaan paced about the deserted waiting area, running his hands repeatedly over his head, till his hair was standing out at all angles. The muscles in his shoulders were all tensed up and his hands kept clenching into fists when they weren't busy raking through his hair. His jaw was set in a hard line and he breathed heavily. Anyone who had seen him might have been forgiven for being alarmed. He looked wild and furious and the air crackled restlessly all around him, like electricity in the air before a storm.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he demanded aloud as he stalked back and forth. "What did I just do? What was I thinking?"
His jaw tightened as he recalled for the hundredth time how Shilpa's scar had felt as he ran his fingers over it. He wished he could just bloody well erase that memory from his mind. It had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done. No, correction, that would be walking out on her without any explanation, like a complete and utter cad.
God, his mind was so messed up. What had made him act like that? Even now he couldn't fully explain it; the best he could manage to come up with was that it had been an instinct, an urge really, that had compelled him to touch her scar. It hadn't occurred to him at the time to wonder why he was doing it; it had just felt right.
But it shouldn't have! It wasn't even a matter of hardly knowing Shilpa that made it wrong. It was more the fact that he shouldn't have wanted to touch her at all, he shouldn't have wanted to touch any woman. Except Riddhima.
Riddhima, who he was in love with, who he'd sworn to wait for no matter how long it took. He'd promised he'd never love anyone else, never want anyone else. It was only her. She was his life, his soul mate, his everything.
And he'd forgotten all about her. For five whole minutes she had ceased to figure in his brain. Because he'd been thinking about Shilpa instead. He'd been drawn to her, there was no use denying it. He'd enjoyed the feel of her hair between his fingers and the silkiness of her scar when he touched it. For a couple of moments he had felt something for her. What, he wasn't sure, but there had been emotion of some kind burrowing away beneath the surface.
With a frustrated cry he punched the vending machine. The force was so great it left an actual dent in the metal cover. Armaan stared at it for a few seconds, breathing hard and fast, all his muscles quivering with tension. And then with a deflated sigh he slumped into the vending machine, resting his forehead against the cold surface of it.
"I need help," he muttered to himself.
He stood there for a while, letting the coolness of the metal seep into his skin, diffusing his temper. As he began to calm down a new sense of guilt crept over him, and this time it had nothing to do with being disloyal to Riddhima. Hurrying out of Shilpa's room had been a mistake and he realised he had to go back and apologise to her. She was already so fragile, it wouldn't take much to bruise her, and he was certain his behaviour would have hurt her. Just the thought of it filled him with self-loathing.
"You really are a bas***d, Armaan," he told himself, straightening up.
He ran a hand through his hair again and sighed. Apologising was not going to be easy. The embarrassment of it aside, it was just something he wasn't very good at. He rarely said sorry, usually only when he was pushed to, but he knew he had to this time. Shilpa deserved better from him. She had suffered enough crap from her relatives without him adding to it.
Before he went back he got some coffee, partly to make it look like he hadn't just made it an excuse, and partly in the hope that the caffeine would fortify his nerves. One sip, however, nearly made him gag. It was bitter and his stomach curled over when it hit it, but he forced it down anyway, thinking of it as a punishment for his behaviour that morning.
When he reached Shilpa's room he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye so he walked in the door with his head bowed, eyes fixed resolutely on his coffee. His heart gave a nervous jerk as he pushed open the door and for the first time in his life he felt actual dread creep up his spine. Be brave, Armaan, he counselled himself, and walked inside.
"Sorry, the vending machine wasn't working," he started to say as he stepped into the room. "So I had to-"
He glanced up as he spoke and the words died on his lips. Shilpa was still sitting upright in the bed, the way he'd left her, but that was all that was similar to his earlier visit. Her hands were in her lap and she was twining her fingers together repeatedly. She'd obviously been doing it for a while because her hands were covered in red welts from her nails raking the skin and there were a few dots of blood across her knuckles. Her face was ashen white and she was staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall.
But it wasn't that that sent the peel of alarm through Armaan. It was the tears rolling silently down her cheeks, glimmering faintly under the bright hospital lights. His heart thudded against his ribcage and he threw the coffee cup to the ground, bounding over to the bed and kneeling down beside her, his eyes sweeping over her face with anxious dismay.
"Shilpa? Shilpa, please don't cry," he begged her, reaching out and grabbing one of her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I was a bas***d and you can hate me if you want, but please don't cry."
She started, as if he'd woken her from a dream, and slowly she turned to look at him. Her eyes met his and the deep pools of sadness in them made his heart wrench.
"Armaan?" she whispered his name, her voice thick with tears.
"Yes, it's me. I came back. See?"
Her hand felt like a lump of ice and that scared him even more than the decimated expression in her eyes. He started rubbing it between both his hands, furiously.
"Armaan." Her voice broke on the last syllable in his name and her tears became a flowing tide as she crumpled, her whole body folding in on itself.
Fear shot through Armaan, an icy bullet that froze him to the core. Shilpa was shaking uncontrollably, her sobs sounding more and more like gasps for breath. Horrified, Armaan sat on the bed and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Her head fell onto his chest and each sob vibrated through him, making his heart ache.
"Hey, it's okay," he told her in as soothing a voice as he could manage past the self-loathing and worry crowding his mind. He stroked his fingers through her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
How long they sat like that he didn't know. Time ceased to exist for him. He just held her until her sobs started to subside and then he gently pushed her back, placing his thumb under her chin so he could tilt her head up to him. Her eyes were glassy from all her tears and her cheeks were still wet. He brushed the remaining tears away with his fingers, conscious of the slight tremor in them. He was so angry he wanted to punch something, but he forced himself to stay calm for her sake.
"I'm sorry," he told her again. "I was a dick. I shouldn't have left like that."
"N-no," she stammered, more a sob than speech. "It w-wasn't y-you."
He frowned in confusion. "Then...what happened? Why are you crying?"
Another sob choked her and he saw fresh tears crowd her eyes as she shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for breath, for words, and he held her face, smoothing back her hair from her cheeks.
"Shilpa, tell me. What happened?"
"It's my Massi," she cried, a violent shudder rippling through her body. She looked up at him and the expression on her face was so raw and wounded that it cut right through him. "She threw me out!"
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