Part 2 ¬ What if Imlie got drunk? Matured

Part 2 ¬ What if Imlie got drunk?

This past year, it felt like Imlie was watching her life go by through a thick fog.

Nothing was clear. Everything was blurred and swirling around her. And she was lost trying to walk through it.

Just as she tried to clear it away, it would grow thicker. The more she tried to navigate, the more she lost her way.

If she had to remember when it began, she would say it was when she first got married. And then, as things happened, she grew closer to her first husband, the fog grew, and grew, until she couldn’t see anything anymore.

Then he entered her life.

And suddenly, even the fog surrounding her couldn't fight the presence of one Aryan Singh Rathore.

It cleared away when he entered her line of sight.

He cleared away the fog that resided in her brain.

Slowly, but surely.

It began that day in the rain, and continued to clear out when she divorced her first husband, then grew closer to Aryan.

But all good things came to an end, didn’t they?

Just as the fog had cleared, just as she could see him, see Aryan, the fog crept up in her periphery, again.

She could see it’s wisps, she could see her vision blurring again.

She could see as he, once again, took over and forced those wisps out again.

Imlie could see that he was the only one who cleared away the fog and she pushed him away because the reason it was back was him.

She missed those days, the days he was only responsible for taking it all away. She hated these days, when she was constantly fighting herself because her vision blurred because of what he did, but cleared as he came in front of her.

And now, as her ex-husband clouded her vision again, she needed to find him. She needed to find Aryan. He was the only one who could get her out of this state.

Aryan looked around for Imlie. If she was anywhere near her ex-husband, his whole purpose of getting married to her would waste away. Her absolutely pathetic ex-husband had many ways to emotionally blackmail her and he wouldn’t let that happen.

He knew his sister was just behind, and that was the only reason why he didn’t lose his shit when he saw Imlie moving away from Aditya, but Aditya, he followed anyway.

He called out, not trusting himself enough to not hit Aditya again if he went any nearer. His voice roared her name, causing the both of them to turn and look at him.

It also called the entire family to attention.

He didn’t pay them any mind and looked as Aditya looked at him, smirking, while Imlie looked at him, and, what, was she grinning?

He looked between them, moving towards them rapidly, her grin calling him near her. She hadn’t smiled at him like that, in what felt like a long time, but was in fact, just a few days back, in the hospital. His heart ached as the same smile adorned her face again, for him.

Just as he reached her, she stumbled a bit. He immediately caught her by her shoulders and she looked up at him with the same smile. He was caught off-guard for a moment, as he usually was nowadays when she smiled at him.

But then he realised, she was drunk.

Imlie was drunk.

He looked up at Aditya, accusatory, disbelieving of the audacity of this guy. He moved to punch him again but Imlie groaned once again.

She grabbed his chin, and faced it back to look at her, “Humka naahi pasand jab tum Aditya Sir ko aisan dekhat ho.(I don’t like it when you look at Aditya Sir like that.)”

Aryan’s eyebrows raised at her exclamation. What now?

He looked up to Aditya, still smirking, and the delusions he could see taking mind inside him were hilarious. His eyes turned away from him, and to his mother and sister’s worried gazes. And for once, those gazes were mirrored in the eyes of all the Tripathi’s too.

Imlie jerked his face again, making him look at her, and then continued, “Tum humka dekho. Hum Imlie Aryan Singh Rathore hai.(You, look at me. I am Imlie Aryan Singh Rathore.)”

And if they weren’t in front of both their families, he would have lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, because, for the love of god, he couldn’t listen to his name joined with hers, when she spoke it so, and not react like a possessive caveman.

She giggled, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he looked at her again, relaxed, happy, and then she said, “Tum humka dekhat rahe toh humka sab saaf saaf dikhai det hai. Warna sab dhundhla hai.(When you look at me, everything clears out and I see clarity. Otherwise, it’s all blurred.)”

And yes, Imlie was definitely drunk. 

She wouldn’t be saying this at all if she was in her sane mind.

He called his sister, no words needed between the both of them, and his sister was there, right by his side. She took a swaying Imlie from his arms, and he was finally free to beat Aditya. He moved towards him, his smirk twisted now as he had heard what Imlie had said.

He moved towards him, when Imlie caught his hand in hers.

As if being pushed into one situation to another wasn’t enough, Imlie now changed the reason for his heart beating loudly too. From fury at Aditya Kumar Tripathi, to panic at being held by her after being pushed away from her for so long.

He watched as Aditya’s face twisted even more when she held his hand, and he smirked. At least now this guy had some semblance of sense.

He turned to look at her, raising his eyebrow, “Chod do uu ka. Jaane do.(Let him go. Leave him be.)”

And he hadn’t realised that drunk Imlie also meant lower inhibitions. She could speak the truth any moment now, and he had no way to stop her.

Aditya, most probably realising that this was his cue, moved forwards, and asked, “Kyun Imlie? Kyun chod de mujhe?(Why Imlie? Why should he let me go?)”

Aryan watched as Imlie moved away from his sister, her hand still holding his, her eyes still on him, her other hand raising until she was cupping her jaw. He let her, in fact, he inhaled, her touch still affecting him and then pushed against her hand.

She tilted her head, her gaze staying on him, and then she smiled, “Kaahe ki tum jab ee ka pakad ke baithe ho, toh humka bilkul acha naahi laagat hai.(The reason being, when he holds on to you, I don’t like it, at all.)”

Either Aditya Kumar Tripathi was blind, or he deliberately spoke up, “Kyun acha nahi lagta hai tumhe? Imlie?(Why do you not like it? Imlie?)”

She turned her gaze away from Aryan, and with a sad smile answered, “Kaahe ki jab ee aapke upar dhyaan det rahe, toh humka ee ki bahut yaad aawat hai.(The reason being, when his attention is on you, I miss him, so very much.)”

Aryan closed his eyes, unable to take what she was saying. Her touch was the only thing grounding him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

His hand covered hers, and he knew her gaze was back at him. He opened his eyes, and she smiled, bright and sad at the same time, “Hum Aryan ko missiyawat hai.(I miss Aryan.)”

And then she fell in his arms, exactly like she had all that time back, at the new year’s party. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her hand fell from his face, but he was already holding her.

He looked up, and his sister found his eyes. She was the only one who could guess the extent of his feelings. As he went on to deny him, she shoved them in his face.

His sister just smirked at him and his mother interrupted the silent teasing by ordering, “Aru, tu Imlie ko ghar leja. Aisi haalat mein woh Holi kaise khelegi? Go. You take her.(Aru, you take Imlie home. How is she going to play Holi in this state? Go. Take her home.)”

And he was always grateful for his mother for making him do the right things. She had asked him to do what he wanted to do, but was dreading to ask, and he loved her for it.

So, leaning down, placing one arm on the back of her knees, and the other on her upper back, he picked her up, and looked at Aditya smugly, before moving towards his car, to take his employee—fake wife—fiance, no, to take his Imlie home.

Thankfully, she remained out of it for the whole car ride. His heart would have broken had she asked to be taken back to that house after what she had confessed to him. The inexplicable hurt she could cause him by pushing him away again was avoided.

When they did finally reach home, it was to absolute silence. He knew everyone was on leave today. No one was going to rush to open the doors and grab his jacket.

He sighed and got out of the car, walked towards the passenger side, and picked her up again, bouncing her a bit, making sure she wouldn’t fall, before walking towards their bedroom.

She would need water. A lot of water and some hangover medicine.

He gently put her on the bed, and searched around the room for the medicine. When he found it, he filled up a glass of water and turned around to put it on the side table.

And there she was, standing on the bed, her hands on her hips, squinting at him. He sighed at the amount of stupidity he was about to witness.

Her lips pursed as she asked, "Didi humka kahe ke tum chaar saal se Holi naahi khele ho?(Didi told me you haven’t played Holi in the last four years?)"

Aryan looked away from her, and nodded.

Imlie humphed, making him look at her again, and asked Aryan, "Matlab hum toka rang naahi laga sakat hai?(Does this mean I can’t apply colours on you?)"

Imlie waited as he looked at her incredulously and asked, "Yaha rang kaha se laoogi?(Where would you even find colours here?)

Imlie smiled then, her lips widening as she made a mockery of her smile, and leaned towards the side table, opening the drawer and rummaging through it before standing back again.

A packet of Gulaal in her hands.

His eyes widened as she got off the bed and ran towards him, and he moved in the direction opposite her. She only followed him. He ran away from her. She gained pace. He went on to use every single piece of furniture in their room to block her, and when that wasn't enough, he ran to the bed, standing on it, defending himself.

Imlie wasn't far behind. 

But as soon as she was on the bed, he got down.

In one moment Imlie was standing on the bed, hopping on it, and in the next, her feet tangled in the sheets and she fell, and he couldn't catch her. She tried to prevent her fall when she caught a hold of his Kurta, but she failed.

He heard a loud tear as she fell, him falling right above her, his Kurta torn by the force of her grip, him being pulled by the same grip.

His eyes widened and a giggle escaped her.

Leaning forward, her hands found his cheeks, and finally, she coloured him in her colours.

Aryan quickly got up, watching as Imlie laid on the ground, and sighed, leaning down again to pick her up. Grabbing her arms, he picked her up, making her stand, and watched on as she giggled.

Shaking his head at her antics, he saw the tear in his Kurta in the dressing table, to see it was from the back of his neck to his waist. Sighing, he took it off.

He didn’t notice the giggling stop. He didn’t notice as the room echoed in silence. He didn’t notice the lack of sound from her.

What he did notice was her eyes on him.

Her eyes pricked his skin, making him shiver, goosebumps rising on his bare arms. His eyes found hers through the mirror, and he realised that she wasn’t looking at him directly. She was looking at his reflection through the mirror.

She didn’t need the Gulaal to colour her cheeks. Her blush had made her red.

As soon as her eyes met his, she turned away, preparing to run away from him, but he caught her, the bangles adorning her wrists crinkling when his hand wrapped around it. He tugged her, turning her back to face him, and her hands, still reddened with the Gulaal that she had coloured his face with, came to rest on his chest.

She inhaled.

He exhaled.

Her eyes found his.

His eyebrows raised.

She blushed harder, which seemed impossible.

He felt her hands on him, turning his thoughts impure.

He watched as she looked at her hands on his pectorals, and her eyes, along with a daze, held fascination. 

Imlie was drunk. She knew she was. She had had two glasses of Bhaang. That influence didn’t just go away after some shut-eye. Not with her tiny body. But she felt alive.

She was inebriated and her inhibitions were lowered, and all she felt was alive.

Her hands, like they had a mind of their own, moved upwards, noticing the bumps of the muscles and the hollows beneath his collarbones, straight to his sensitive spot. His neck. She was colouring him all over. She looked up and his eyes were closed. His breathing was controlled. He was bound tight, like a band about to snap.

Loving the power she held over him, because the power he held over her made her go crazy, she explored his bare chest, this time by moving her hands downwards. Gliding her hands down, she let herself feel the ridges and the dips of his body. 

His breath hitched when her hands passed his nipples, and Imlie, Imlie loved that sound.

Wanting to get that sound out of him again, she scraped her nails against his nipples, and the moan he exhaled was something that stirred up something within her. Something that she didn’t even know existed. As her hands moved downwards, his breathing continued to turn irregular.

Aryan couldn’t breathe because of her hands. Her soft soft hands that were playing with his iron-clad control. The breath already stuck within his throat, left him when her fingers stroked around his navel, her nails scratching his abs, making him groan.

He opened his eyes to look at her, the desire in her eyes was surely mirroring his. She suddenly placed her palms back on him, her hands sliding through his waist to his back and she pulled him even closer.

Imlie sighed deeply as his hands found her waist and he pulled her closer. Her covered breasts brushed against his naked chest. Her breathing turned to heaving as she looked in his eyes to see the attraction in them, reflecting the attraction that resonated within her.

She leaned up, her cheek brushing against his stubbled jaw, and she could feel his breath leaving him in a rush. She skimmed against his jaw, her lips moving from his cheek to his jaw and further. Just as she was about to brush her lips with his, she backed away.

Aryan had closed his eyes when she leaned forward, her lips finding his cheeks and slowly sliding down. When her lips didn’t meet his, he opened his eyes, questioning her. 

And what a sight she was, the Gulaal on his face now on her cheek.

She moved towards the other side of his face, and he lost it when she repeated her move again. Her soft cheek against his hard jaw, her bare skin against his stubbled one. Her delicate lips, sliding from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, before rushing away again.

He sighed as she, once again, moved away. Her other cheek coloured now too.

And suddenly, her lips, soft and gentle, brushed against his, once, just once, astonishing him.

Imlie’s eyes met his after she pecked him, her fingers expanding in the exploration of his bare back. His eyes, the desire in them, melted something within her, and she leaned forward, on the tip of her toes, and she pecked him again.

When she moved back, he followed her, capturing her lips in a soul-crushing kiss, and not letting her move away. His hands, which were on her waist, moved at her back and pulled her against him. His lips battled her into dominance, and as his wet tongue entered her dry mouth, she lost herself.

She pushed him, in the direction of the bed, and he went willingly, not letting go of the kiss, or her, for even one moment. Just as the back of his knees touched the edge of the bed, he sat down, and Imlie kneeled over him, on the bed, not breaking their kiss for even a second.

Aryan groaned into the kiss as Imlie settled into his lap, her hips thrusting into his, awaking the one thing that would only lead to more complications between them.

And just like that, he was awakened from the trance he had settled in.

He was the one to separate their lips from the kiss, awareness of the situation settling over him. 

Imlie followed him when he moved away from her, but his hands went from her waist to her arms, stopping her in her tracks.

She looked at him accusingly and he sighed, and looking into her eyes, he confessed, “I don’t want to give you any more reasons to call me a monster.”

Imlie, still dazed with the feelings that had awoken in her during the kiss, answered him hastily, “I won’t. Please, I won’t.”

And then she kissed him again. Her lips finding his, moving towards him, but just as she was sure that he wasn’t going to stop again, he stopped her again, his forehead leaning into hers.

She looked on as his eyes closed, and she heard him plead, “Please, I don’t want you to hate me. Not more than you already do.”

She knew she would. 

He knew she would.

This wasn’t them.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

As Imlie’s senses returned as his pleading reached her, she looked at his eyes.

The eyes that were always so sure of themselves, the eyes that challenged her every step of the way, the eyes that never backed down from a challenge, held regret in that moment.

She moved away from him. 

She wasn’t sure if it was for her, or for him.

His eyes met hers again, and he smiled, a defeated one.

He leaned forward, and her eyes closed, in anticipation, in fear, in gratefulness, in resistance.

Aryan chuckled a bit, watching the emotions play out on her face.

Imlie felt lips brushing her forehead, tender, like a setting sun’s last rays on the skin, soothing.

She met his eyes again when he moved back, and amidst the crestfallen look on his face, he smiled at her and whispered, “I miss you too.”

Imlie knew she would cry. Not now. Later. She would cry.

For this wedding, and for all the lost opportunities, Imlie knew she would cry.