Fan Fictions


Fan Fictions
Fan Fictions

Wish Upon A Star - ArSh FF (P16, pg 58) (Page 37)

DulceAmor IF-Rockerz

Joined: 01 July 2007
Posts: 8395

Posted: 27 February 2012 at 7:37am | IP Logged
Originally posted by artemis20

Hi, just read your FF. What a great concept and writing. The way you portray Armaan and Shilpa's emotions is pretty amazing. Can't wait to read more.
Please add me to your PM list.

Hey there, first of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read my ff (I know some of the chapters are on the long side) and for leaving a comment. I am delighted that you are liking the concept and feel I've described Armaan & Shilpa's emotions well. Embarrassed  I will certainly add you to my PM list and I hope that you'll continue to enjoy my ff. Thanks for liking my work and wanting to read more. Embarrassed

DulceAmor IF-Rockerz

Joined: 01 July 2007
Posts: 8395

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 3:18pm | IP Logged
Phew, okay, well here it is finally. Sorry, I know I promised this update before now, but I hope you all can forgive me. It's pretty long and I actually had to cut if off, so the next chapter will continue where this one leaves off. I do hope you will enjoy it and that it will answer some of your questions, as well as keep you wanting to read more! Thanks again to all who read and commented on the last update. I can never tell you enough how much your feedback means to me. Anyways, here's the update. Please forgive any errors/mistakes and  please like/comment/criticise. Embarrassed

Chapter 11

Armaan went very still. Shilpa stared hard at him, watching his face as it tightened, his eyebrows drawing into a frown. She waited for the disgust to pool in his eyes. It would tear her heart in two, she thought sadly, but she had to be strong and withstand it. She had no right to feel sorry for herself.

            Only, it didn't come. The only expression in those azure depths was confusion, and there wasn't a hint of repulsion in his voice when he said, "I don't understand."

            He'd stopped rubbing her hand between his, but he hadn't let go of it. She glanced down at his hand as it lay on top of hers. It covered hers completely and for some odd reason she liked that; it made her feel safe, protected. There were deep lines etched across his fingers, looking for all the world like scars. There was also a small cut on one knuckle, a deep, dark red, almost black. It stood out sharply against his paler skin, like a splash of ink on a white canvas.

            She'd never talked about the accident, not even to the doctors who had attended her immediately after it. Part of the reason was because she didn't want to, couldn't bear to recall those terrible events because each time she did it was like experiencing them all over again and it was just too agonising. But another part of it was simply because she couldn't. The words just wouldn't come. On the rare occasions she had tried to talk about it she'd felt as there was a stopper lodged in her throat, preventing her from letting it all out.

            It should have been there now. But it wasn't.

            She glanced back up at Armaan and met his steady gaze. There was no judgement in his eyes, no expectation or demands for answers, just gentle reassurance. He was telling her that she didn't have to speak about it if she didn't want to, that he didn't need to hear it. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was just that she was tired of keeping it to herself for so long, but she suddenly knew that she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know, to understand, even if he ended up despising her at the end like everyone else.

            "I was seven," she said softly, hesitantly. "There was this magic show all the kids at school were excited about. Everyone was talking about it, saying how their parents had taken them to see it and how amazing it had been. I felt like the only one who hadn't seen it. You know what kids are like, they hate to feel left out. So I asked my parents if we could go, thinking they would agree, because they had never denied me anything. Only, they said no."

            She paused, taking a deep, steadying breath. Armaan didn't say anything; he knew she needed time to tell her tale and he didn't want to rush her. He could see from the darkness that kept shifting through her eyes like currents underwater that talking about this was painful for her. Deep lines were carved about the corners of her eyes and her eyebrows had slid into a tight frown. He had a strange urge to reach out and smooth those wrinkles away with his thumb, but he didn't, sensing that if he stopped her now she would never be able to speak about this again.

            "I didn't realise at the time, but my parents were struggling financially," she continued after a minute. A hard light edged into her eyes and her whole face tightened with some harsh emotion that was quite clearly directed at her own self. "It never occurred to me to wonder why other kids always spoke about living at home with their grandmothers and grandfathers when I just lived with Mama and Papa. I barely saw Daadi, only at Diwali, and she'd never been warm and loving like the other kids described their grandmothers.'

            'It was only later that I learned that my parents had eloped. Mama was supposed to marry someone else but Papa stole her away from her engagement ceremony. It was a source of shame for both families. My mother's family hated my father, blaming him for seducing her and turning her against them. My father's family refused to accept Mama. They turned her and Papa out of the house. Papa had been part of the family business, but he had to find work of his own. He ended up doing temporary jobs here and there. It was never constant and didn't pay well. But like I said, at the time I didn't realise any of that."

            Little prickles of anxiety were starting to run along her arms as she came close to the main part of her story. It felt like an electric charge running all over her skin and she had to resist the urge to rake her nails down her arms. Restlessness was beginning to claw at her and for a second she longed to go lose herself in the city streets. She didn't want to remember this, she didn't want to relive it. It was too hard; it made her whole chest ache like a heavy weight was being pressed slowly down on it, threatening to crush her completely.

            Disentangling her hand from Armaan's, she pushed her hair back from her face, digging her nails into her scalp. No, she thought, shoving away her cowardice; I have to do this. He needs to understand.

            "I know now that they couldn't afford the tickets," she said, training her eyes on the growing band of pink in the sky. She stared into it, picturing their faces again, letting her mind take her back to that other life, the one she still mourned with every part of her being. "At the time, though, I was furious with them. I remember crying a lot and yelling at them that they didn't love me, that...that I hated them."

            Her voice cracked and she bowed her head, biting down hard on her bottom lip. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the crippling bout of anguish. Not yet, she thought fiercely; you can't let it consume you yet.

            Wordlessly Armaan reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. He just rested it there, not pressing too firmly, just applying enough pressure to let her know he was there beside her. It instantly soothed her and her shoulders lost some of their tension. She breathed out a little shakily but when she opened her eyes they were dry.

            "All I cared about was that stupid show," she said, her voice so sharp, so filled with self-loathing, that it cut through the air like a whip. Armaan winced, his heart clenching with anguish for her.

            "It became like an obsession for me," she admitted. "I went into a terrible tantrum and nothing they could say or do would appease me. I wouldn't eat anything, I refused to go to bed or do my homework. I wouldn't even speak to them. In the end, I think they were too worried to be angry with me anymore. I think that's why they gave in. I think they had visions of me ruining my health and so they chose to spend every last penny they had on those stupid tickets instead."

            "You were just a kid, Shilpa," Armaan told her gently. "You can't blame yourself for making them get the tickets when they couldn't afford them. They were your parents, they wanted to see you happy. They probably would have gotten them anyway, even if you hadn't sulked. And you couldn't have known-"

            "What?" she asked sharply. Her eyes snapped round to his and suddenly they were blazing, the irises twin rings of emerald fire. "That they would do anything to please me? That in doing so they would end up losing their lives?"

            "I-" he started to say, but she cut through him savagely.

            "Mama always believed in karma, and everything that happened that day was all down to me! If I hadn't sulked so much, if I hadn't acted like a spoilt little brat, if I hadn't made them miserable, then they would still be alive!"

            "I don't understand how you're being in a mood with them could influence their deaths," Armaan said, frowning in genuine confusion.

            Shilpa's eyes glittered with a fierce, mocking brightness, and her voice was so bitter it didn't even sound like her. "Then let me explain it to you. Papa got the tickets somehow. I don't know if he used the rent money or if they pawned Mama's jewellery, but somehow they got those tickets.'

            'But that still wasn't good enough for me. From the moment we set off in the car I complained we were travelling too slow. It was a Saturday afternoon and the roads were chaotic. You know how awful the traffic is there, right?"

            He nodded, unable to speak. The look on her face was so terrible it had a knot of tension wrapping around his gut. She looked fierce and more than a little crazed and he wasn't ashamed to admit that fear was stalking coldly down his spine because of it.

            "We kept getting caught in tailbacks and that made me go into another mood. I kept wailing that we weren't going to make it. Papa tried to cheer me up, but his smiles only made me sulk more. I remember thinking he wasn't taking it seriously enough, that he didn't understand how important it was to me.'

            'Mama was getting upset because I was sulking. I remember her asking Papa if there was no gap we could squeeze through. He looked at me in the rear view mirror and promised me that he would get me to that show. That was the last thing he ever said to me."

            She swallowed and some of the harsh light went out of her eyes to be replaced by the unmistakable shimmer of tears. Armaan saw a faint shudder run through her body and he reached out, taking her hand in his own. Her fingers curled about his, holding on, tightly.

            "We were stopped at a red light," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Papa started to pull out. I remember Mama telling him it wasn't safe and then...then something slammed...slammed into us."

            A sob caught in the back of her throat and she had to break off. She was barely aware of Armaan moving as he crouched down beside her chair. Her mind had transported her back to that car and all she could see were horrible freeze-frame images – the glass of the driver's window shattering, sending fragments raining down all over them, her father's body being bent at an impossible angle, his head snapping back, her mother's hand flying out, streaked red.

            Agony knifed through her as sharply as the shards of glass had done. It felt so real she expected to look down and see them embedded in her arms. But when she glanced down her skin was smooth and clear, like nothing had ever happened.

            "Everything after that is a jumble," she finally managed to say. "All I have is images in my mind, like snapshots. I remember Mama screaming, the glass shattering all around us, and we seemed to be pushed along at an inhuman speed. I remember the car rolling. I couldn't move because I was strapped in with my seatbelt, so when the car flipped over I was trapped upside down. I struggled to get free, but I couldn't. And then I saw them.'

            'My parents...they were... They had been jolted badly by the impact. They didn't have any seatbelts on. When I saw them...I didn't realise they were dead at first. Mama's head was turned towards me and her eyes were open and I thought...I thought..."

            The wall of anguish that she had been holding back finally overpowered her and a sob broke from her lips. The sound was raw and painful and it made her whole body shudder. She scrunched her eyes up, wrenching her hand from Armaan's so she could rake both hands through her hair. There was a burning sensation in her heart, like an arrow had been shot through it, and it was quickly spreading through the rest of her body. It was the worst kind of agony she had ever experienced – intense, searing, maddening. It made her want to scream, to rage, to run into the wind and the cold and never stop until she collapsed in a heap on some distant, barren shore.

            "It was all my fault!" she cried. "I did it! I killed them!"

            Hands bunching in her hair, she hunched in on herself with a moan of raw pain that sliced right through Armaan's heart. She was shaking violently and it terrified him. He'd never seen anyone so stricken. Her eyes were intensely dark, a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin, and the depth of despair in them sent ice to his very core. He hated seeing her like that, broken and devastated. It hurt him, a genuine physical ache that he didn't try to understand. This wasn't a time for rhyme or reason. He just followed his instincts, reaching up and gripping her upper arms.

            "No," he said firmly. She jerked as if he'd slapped her and looked down at him, emerald eyes haunted. "No, Shilpa, it wasn't your fault. You weren't to blame. It was an accident. A freak accident. No one could have prevented it."

            "I could have!" she cried. "The only reason they were in that car was because they were trying to appease me. If I'd stayed quiet, if I'd been patient, Papa would never have pulled out."

            "But you didn't make him," Armaan pointed out. "You didn't tell him to pull out. He made that decision himself."

            Shilpa gazed down at him for a moment. He was staring up at her, his blue eyes deeply earnest. There wasn't a single trace of horror or revulsion in them like she'd feared there would be. That expression was burned in her mind as clearly as the accident; it had been mirrored on every one of her relative's faces when the paramedics cut her loose from the wreckage of the car. Her grandmother had glanced down at her and her face had gone cold and hard with contempt. Then she'd turned away. She'd never looked at her again. When Vasu had arrived in India the next day to take her back to New York she'd barely spared her a glance and when she had there had been nothing but hatred in her eyes.

            But Armaan wasn't looking at her that way. There was no judgement, no sense that he was appalled or sickened by what she'd told him. Instead of putting distance between them, he was kneeling right by her, his chest brushing her thigh, his hands gripping her arms, warm and gentle. His eyes didn't fall away from hers, they stared unflinchingly into them and she could have sworn she saw concern in them.

            Why isn't he reacting like everyone else, she wondered? He should be asking me to move out. He shouldn't want to see my face ever again.

            Confused, she turned her head away. She didn't have the strength to ponder his reaction, or lack of one, right now. The storm of emotion that had so recently gripped her had begun to subside and as it faded she was left feeling tired and listless. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and forget, everything.

            "I may as well have," she said quietly, glancing up at the pale outline of the moon. Without the night to act as a backdrop it looked wan and indistinct, like a silver scar against the bright cobalt of the winter sky. It looked out of place, incomplete. She knew exactly how it felt.

            "Shilpa." Armaan's voice was soft, gentle, as were his fingers as they came up and cupped her chin, turning her face round to him. His blue eyes held a tender, protective light that made her heart flutter. They were utterly fathomless, but the expression in them was perceptible. He was asking her to trust him and with a small jolt she realised that she did. Deep down inside she could feel the certainty that he would never lie to her and maybe it was because of that, but suddenly, staring down at him, she felt as if she had found something that had been missing, only she hadn't known it until then.

            "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened," he told her. And she had been, he could see that now. All these years she had been carrying the weight of her guilt around inside her and it had been slowly suffocating her. She hadn't been able to move on, to get the closure she deserved because her relatives had fuelled her sense of blame, and like a canker the certainty that she was responsible had grown inside her, until it had poisoned her mind, her heart, her life.

            If he ever met her relatives he was going to make them repent for all the suffering they had caused her, he thought fiercely.

            "It's destroying your life," he continued. "But you have a chance now to finally move on. I'm not asking you to forget what happened; you never will. But Shilpa, do you really think your parents would want you to live like this, always blaming yourself, never being happy?"

            Slowly she shook her head and he reached up, tucking a strand of hair gently behind her ear. A soft smile touched his lips. "No, right. Wherever they are, I know they won't hold you responsible. In fact, I bet they regret not being able to be with you to tell you how proud of you they are."

            "Proud?" she asked, a frown furrowing her brow.

            "Yeah, proud." His smile widened. "Come on, you're a doctor! What parents wouldn't be proud of that? Not only that, you're strong and kind and beautiful. And you know what I think?"

            She shook her head, trying not to dwell on the fact that he'd called her 'beautiful' or that her heart had started to race breathlessly.

            "I think they are with you. Not physically, but in spirit. I think they've always been with you, in here."

            He pressed his palm to her heart and it thudded, causing her breath to catch at the back of her throat. She knew her eyes had widened and she could feel the flush steadily working its way across her face, but she couldn't look away. He was staring at her so intently, his sapphire eyes glowing with the conviction of all that he had said to her. His smile was wide and warm and it caused a whirl of butterflies in her stomach. They were close, so close that his scent was washing over her, heady and intoxicating and it took every little bit of willpower she possessed not to lean over and pull his lips down to hers.

            No man had ever had this effect on her and she was so busy reeling from it that she didn't realise at first that he was speaking again.

            "Forget what your family has told you," he was saying. "They told you what they wanted you to believe."

            There was something about the way he said the words – a slight hint of bitterness in his voice perhaps – that made her think he wasn't just talking about her situation. Forcing all thoughts of how hot he was to the back of her mind, she studied his face. He looked graver, his smile gone and faint shadows flitting through his eyes, turning them so dark in places they seemed almost black.

            "You sound as if you know what you're talking about," she commented.

            Abruptly his hand fell away from her chest and every muscle in his body tensed. She had a second to see his eyes dilate and something dark flash in them before he rose to his feet and turned his head away.

            "You're shivering," he said. "You better get back inside."

            He held a hand out to her without looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the balcony door, but she could see enough of his face that she could make out the tightness of his jaw, his lips. Her words had obviously hit a raw nerve.

            She contemplated refusing to go anywhere until he told her why the sudden change in his behaviour, but she knew him well enough to know that approach wouldn't get her anywhere. Wordlessly she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to haul her to her feet. He still didn't look at her, but he did keep a hold of her hand, escorting her inside and over to the couch. He stayed to make sure she was seated comfortably and then he practically marched into the kitchenette.

            After a few minutes he returned, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and the last bottle of beer in the other. He handed her the coffee which she accepted with a small smile. Her eyes skittered to the bottle and she recalled what Muskaan had said to him about using alcohol to ignore his problems. For the first time she realised that he did seem to drink when he was agitated. She remembered the night she'd met him and how the smell of alcohol had been rife on his breath. Maybe there was more going on than she had first thought, she mused as he sat down next to her and raised the bottle to his lips.

            Setting her mug down, she shifted in her seat so she could face him. "I'm sorry about your father," she said softly. "Has he been ill a long time?"

            Armaan made a scoffing sound and his face rippled with scorn. "That depends on how you look at it," he answered. "And save your sympathy. He doesn't deserve it."

            "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

            "Exactly that," he replied, his hand clenching and unclenching around the bottle. She got the impression he wanted to throw it across the room. Tension radiated out from him like an aura, filling the air around him so she could almost taste it in the back of her throat. "He doesn't deserve your or anyone's sympathy. He deserves everything he gets."

            "You can't mean that," she said, not bothering to hide the horror from her voice.

            "Why not?" He looked sharply round at her and the expression on his face was so savage, so bitter that she nearly gasped. His blue eyes blazed with a terrible combination of contempt and hurt.

            "Because he's your father-" she started to say, only to be cut off.

            "That man is not my father!" he snapped, voice as brittle as ice. It was a stark contrast to the flames that leapt up in his eyes and Shilpa had to resist the impulse to cringe back from him. "He lost all right to use that name the day he walked out on me!"

            He placed the bottle down on the coffee table with such force it made a loud thumping sound. Shilpa half expected it to shatter, but miraculously it didn't. Jumping to his feet, Armaan ran a hand roughly through his hair, annoyed at the tremor in his fingers. He was breathing raggedly and anger was running through him in waves, a static charge that had the hairs on his arms standing up on edge.

            He didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to even think about that hateful man, and he was furious with Shilpa for bringing this subject up. He turned to tell her to butt out of his life, but the words died on his lips when he saw the expression on her face. Her eyes were big and round and the depth of emotion in them took his breath away. There was a single trace of temper or even resentment in those emerald depths, just an infinite sadness that threw him. He'd expected her to be mad, to be staring at him with a cold, hard judgement in her eyes, because that was how everyone else always reacted. They glared at him, they told him to grow up, and then they walked away from him.

            But Shilpa wasn't doing any of that. She remained seated on the couch, gazing up at him with those huge, innocent eyes that were searching his face for the answers to her unspoken questions. And they remained unspoken. She didn't demand an explanation or try to push him into saying more; she didn't, in fact, say anything. He could tell that she wanted to know more, but she didn't try to force the information out of him. She was leaving it up to him, giving him the choice of confiding in her or not. No one had ever done that for him before and it totally and utterly poleaxed him.

            Later he would wonder if it was because she gave him the freedom to decide whether to tell her anything or not that prompted him to sit back down beside her on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing deeply, and then he started to talk.

            "My, uh, my parents didn't exactly have a happy marriage," he admitted, voice a little gruff. "My father cheated on my mother a lot. She, uh, she tried to hide it from us, and for a while she succeeded. She always seemed so happy, smiling and laughing, singing along to the radio when she was cooking. I had no idea that she was actually suffering."

            Shilpa watched his face as he spoke, noting the way his eyes deepened and darkened with spots of pain whenever he mentioned his mother. He had his hands clasped together, his elbows resting on his knees, his body hunched over like a weight was pressing down on him. She understood that, knew how burdensome sorrow could be, and without saying a word she shifted closer to him, resting a hand on his thigh, letting him know she was there to help him if he needed her.

            His eyes flickered briefly to hers and some of the terrible tenseness about his face eased up. A faint, sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but when he looked away it vanished so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it.

            "My father was away from home most of the time," he resumed his tale. His jaw tightened at the mention of his father and she saw loathing flash darkly in his eyes. "Ma always said he was on business meetings, and I guess some of the time he was. What I didn't know at the time was he took other women on these 'trips' with him. I don't know how long he had been doing it for, but my mother kept turning a blind eye. When he was at home she treated him like some kind of God. She ran around after him like a devoted servant, bringing him his food, his newspaper, anything he wanted."

            He broke off with a sharp intake of breath and an irate spasm went through his body. He scrunched his eyes up, breathing hard as he fought against the tide of contempt that was threatening to overpower him. The urge to smash his fist through the coffee table was so strong there was a second where he didn't think he'd be able to control it. And then her hand closed round his joined ones, soft and cool, like a comforting breeze.

            Opening his eyes, he found her gazing calmly up at him. She didn't say a word, but her green eyes locked onto his, holding them, centering him. He felt all the fury slowly ebb away and the tightness in his chest ease up so he could breathe normally again. She gave him a small smile of encouragement and without looking away from her, he continued his story.

            "I could never understand why she pandered to him. He didn't have the decency to honour their marriage vows and yet she lavished affection on him. I don't know how she could even bear to see his face after what he did!"

            "Maybe she didn't know," Shilpa suggested softly.

            Armaan shook his head. "No, she knew. She admitted herself later. I don't know when she found out, but I think she'd known for a while. I have this vague memory of walking into her room when I was about eight or nine and finding her sitting at her dressing table, crying. She told me she'd gotten something in her eye and being a kid I believed her, but looking back, I think that must have been when she first discovered the truth."

            He unclasped his hands and snagged the beer bottle off the coffee table. Shilpa watched him steadily as he took a long swig from it, noting the way his hand shook as he lowered it from his lips. A part of her wanted to tell him to quit drinking, but she didn't want to piss him off, not now when he'd finally opened up to her. She also kind of felt he had reason to drink after what he'd just told her.

            "When I was twelve, Ma sat us down at the kitchen table," he said after a moment. "Her face was very grave and her eyes were swollen, but she didn't cry. In fact, she was completely emotionless when she told us that our father wouldn't be coming home again. That he'd moved out to be with another woman."

            Shilpa's heart twisted in agony at the glittering, bitter light in Armaan's eyes. His whole face was contorted into an expression of pure resentment, but she could see the hurt underneath it all, the sorrow that he was trying to hide. She tried to imagine how it must have been for him, a boy on the verge of adolescence, suddenly finding out that his father had abandoned him. How must he have felt, knowing that his father hadn't even had the courage to tell him he was leaving to his face? No wonder he despised him, she reflected sadly. She probably would have too, if she'd been in his position.

            "He didn't even bother to say goodbye to me or Muskaan," he told her. "We didn't see him at all after that. He was still in New York, but he didn't come to visit us once. We didn't even get a birthday card from him!"

            He was beginning to tremble with anger and when he raised the bottle to his lips she heard it rattle against his teeth. Shilpa winced at the sound of it, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the coffee table again, narrowed and burning with contempt.

            "He cut us out of his life completely," he said bitterly. "And he did it all so coolly, like we had never meant anything to him, like we were just some business deal that had fallen through. He proved that we meant nothing to him, nothing at all!"

            "But wait," Shilpa said, frowning. "Muskaan said she'd been to visit them both, in India. If you all were living here in New York and your parents had separated then how come-"

            "My father moved to Mumbai two years after he left us," he interrupted her. "He went back there to marry the woman he'd left my mother for, after divorcing her of course."

            "Armaan, I'm so-"

            "Don't say you're sorry," he cut through her sympathetic words. "It didn't bother me. I was glad he was on the other side of the world. It meant I never had to see his face ever again."

            They were both silent for a moment, the only sound the faint rush of traffic from outside. Armaan swirled what was left of his beer about the bottle, watching it slop against the sides, fizzing and hissing angrily. It suited his mood perfectly.

            Shilpa regarded him quietly, still trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. After a while she said, "Why did your mother move to India?"

            He'd been in the process of lifting the bottle to his lips when she asked the question. He didn't lower it, but a sardonic smile twisted about his lips, staying in place even as he took a swig.

            "Oh, that?" He looked at her again and she had to suck in a breath at the caustic glitter of his eyes. "A little over six months ago she got a call. It was from him. Apparently wifey number two had left him, upped sticks and ran off with some other, younger man. She left him, so he told my mother, because he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and she wasn't prepared to nurse a sick husband.'

            'Anyway, my mother being the fool that she is, fell for his lies when he told her he was sorry he'd left her and he missed her and would do anything to see her again. She decided to 'forgive' him." He made air quotes with his fingers and his face rippled with derision. "The next thing we knew, she'd sold her house and announced to us that she was going to Mumbai to look after him."

            "And you fell out with her about it," Shilpa guessed, suddenly understanding his reaction when Muskaan told him he should call their mother.

            "What the hell do you think?" he snapped, so angry that he forget that she was just trying to help, forgot that she hadn't judged him once the entire time he'd been talking, forgot everything but the burning sensation searing through his heart. "After everything he did to her she just went running back to him! She didn't stop to think about her kids, the ones who actually needed her, and what we might think! Muskaan had only just gotten married and she needed her there to give her advice. I needed her! But she left us, just like he did! Ran off to throw her life away for a man who has only ever used her! I tried to make her see sense, told her that he would just break her heart again, but she refused to listen! She told me – me – that I needed to learn to forgive people! Forgive? Him? After all the pain he caused this family, after he turned his backs on us, his own flesh and blood? Where the hell was he when I needed him? Where?"

            That last was a cry of pure rage. Armaan's entire body shook with the force of it, his hands clenching, his jaw tightening so much his teeth were grinding together. His eyes were wide and blazing with fury and resentment. And pain. There was no mistaking it. It was there in the tight press of his lips, the shadows of his eyes, the tremors in his limbs. But even without those physical pointers, Shilpa would have recognised it because she had experienced it too. She knew what it was to feel helpless like that, to be utterly overcome with anguish over events you couldn't change, but to wish with every fibre of your being that you could.

            Without saying a word she put her arms around him. He stiffened and her heart gave an anxious thud as she waited for him to push her away, to yell at her. Only he didn't. Another tremor passed through his body and then with a small, choked sound, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held on tight.

            He didn't cry, though he buried his head in the crook of her neck. His skin was burning hot and the muscles in his shoulder were still tight with tension. Shilpa ran one hand down his back in a soft, soothing motion, listening to his ragged breaths, which were hot against her collarbone.

            "Everyone left me," he murmured against her neck. His voice was muffled but she could still hear the forlornness in his tone. It wrenched her heart and she closed her eyes as anguish for him swept over her.

            "I'm here," she whispered, letting her fingers run into his hair, stroking it gently. "I won't leave you."

            His arms tightened around her with a deep, shuddering breath.

            "I promise."

The following 30 member(s) liked the above post:


moonlight2630 IF-Dazzler

Joined: 25 March 2010
Posts: 4147

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 6:13pm | IP Logged
awesome so emotional and painfull update
love ARSH and their understanding realtion.
hate arman's father.
thanks 4 pm
update soon.

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


-Antu-_-Aslan- IF-Rockerz

Joined: 29 May 2010
Posts: 5468

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 7:00pm | IP Logged

If you think this is an error please Contact us.

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


MRS.SSO IF-Dazzler

Joined: 10 February 2011
Posts: 2658

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 8:42pm | IP Logged

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


kashmayurfan Senior Member

Joined: 07 February 2010
Posts: 562

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 9:54pm | IP Logged
Awesome part! It was quite intense! Armaan and shilpa's past is soo sad! Luved the way you described every emotions while they were telling their past to each other! It was beautifully written :) can't wait to read the rest of the part! Do cont.soon

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


-screwed.UP- IF-Dazzler

Joined: 26 January 2011
Posts: 4464

Posted: 28 February 2012 at 11:07pm | IP Logged
Superb update !!!!!

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


MaNaLoVeKaSh Goldie

Joined: 10 March 2010
Posts: 1269

Posted: 29 February 2012 at 12:05am | IP Logged
nice part 

The following 1 member(s) liked the above post:


Go to top

Related Topics

  Topics Author Replies Views Last Post
MaanEet FF: Once Upon A Time... Chapter14-Page125

2 3 4 5 6 7 ... 139 140

Author: --jassi--   Replies: 1113   Views: 144900

--jassi-- 1113 144900 24 June 2013 at 5:44am by greshu
new arsh fic-{~ArSh married!!!~}COMPLETED!

2 3 4 5 6 7 ... 40 41

Author: OkThanksBye   Replies: 323   Views: 106655

OkThanksBye 323 106655 25 January 2013 at 8:49pm by amandadsouza95
Once upon a time in a fairytale - P7 Pg18

2 3 4 5 6 7 ... 23 24

Author: mohini4u   Replies: 188   Views: 31412

mohini4u 188 31412 24 April 2012 at 4:53am by glenn
Once Upon A Love Story MN(Epilogue -Pg27|06.12.10)

2 3 4 5 6 7 ... 27 28

Author: JaeeDevRathore   Replies: 219   Views: 17662

JaeeDevRathore 219 17662 25 September 2011 at 5:52am by PurpleRain
Wish Upon a Star #4 SaJan FF Epilogue pg 37

2 3 4 5 6 7 ... 39 40

Author: DiyaS   Replies: 317   Views: 32831

DiyaS 317 32831 11 August 2011 at 3:26am by Soulmate_Sana

Forum Quick Jump

Forum Category / Channels

Fan Fictions Topic Index

Disclaimer: All Logos and Pictures of various Channels, Shows, Artistes, Media Houses, Companies, Brands etc. belong to their respective owners, and are used to merely visually identify the Channels, Shows, Companies, Brands, etc. to the viewer. Incase of any issue please contact the webmaster.

Popular Channels :
Star Plus | Zee TV | Sony TV | Colors TV | SAB TV | Life OK

Quick Links :
Top 100 TV Celebrities | Top 100 Bollywood Celebs | About Us | Contact Us | Advertise | Forum Index