Chapter 35

—Friday, February 4, 2022, 6:30PM—

Almost like it was their unspoken tradition, literally, Imlie and Aryan didn’t talk for a while during the ride back to the Rathore’s. But this time, Imlie thought it was probably a first for him, Aryan broke the silence.

“I guess I shouldn’t ask what you all talked about, because it’s not like you’d tell me your strategy. But…well is this Shiv guy up to it?” Aryan asked. He didn’t know why he cared whether or not Imlie had chosen someone capable, it wouldn’t really affect tomorrow either way. He guessed he didn’t want her to be disappointed by a new friend, but also he still couldn’t figure out this Shiv character.

Imlie looked at him suspiciously, “You’re right I won’t share the strategy, but why do you care if Shiv’s ‘up to it?’ If he is or he isn’t, you’ll find out tomorrow, right?”

Aryan cursed inwardly, sometimes she was too sharp for her own good. He put on a cool face and replied, “I just want to make sure I’m playing against someone on my level. Agar tum kachchee khiladi niklogi toh mazaa kahaan se aayega?” (If you turn out to be a weak player then where will the fun come from?)

Imlie wasn’t convinced, but she lifted her chin, “Have you known me to do anything weakly? Come on. Also, for your information, even if it’s a lie, we’ll be crashing the meeting tomorrow with Khanna and his lawyer.”

Aryan stopped his smile before it reached his face, “Good. Also, I don’t lie…usually.” He glanced sideways at Imlie, who’d raised her eyebrows. “Anyway, you’ve heard of that saying, all’s fair in love and war? It’s wrong. Even in war, there are rules, there are limits. Not following those limits isn’t just unfair play, it almost guarantees your loss.”

Imlie nodded and then started giggling.

“Why are you laughing?” Aryan asked, confused.

Imlie looked at him, “You never miss a chance to give a lecture about big or philosophical things? I don’t know why you’re a businessman, you should have become an author.”

Aryan pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, trying to prevent his own laugh. He’d been smiling too much these past few days, Imlie would definitely take full advantage, or worse, she’d be disappointed when she realized his smile wasn’t likely to last. He didn’t think he had it in him to smile for the rest of his life like Imlie, Maa, and Didi wanted him to.

Imlie stopped laughing and asked, “Aur pyaar mein?” (And in love?)

Aryan looked at her, almost losing control of the steering, “Pyaar? Pyaar mein kya?” (Love? What about in love?)

Imlie sighed, “You said there are rules in war, are there also the same rules in love?”

Aryan stammered, unsure of what to say. He didn’t even know what answer Imlie expected from him.

Imlie looked at him, she always enjoyed the few times she’d seen him taken aback, “No answer? No amazing, invaluable words of wisdom from the Great Aryan Singh Rathore?” She grinned.

Aryan glanced at her, and then purposefully avoided her gaze and focused on the road ahead, “Fine. There are three rules.”

Imlie chuckled, “There’s always three with you, never four, never two. Do you have all these written down in a book somewhere?”

Aryan continued, “Shut up. The three rules: always tell the truth; never let your partner fall—but if they do, help them get up; and finally--“

“Teesri baat udhaar rahi?” Imlie asked, playfully.

Aryan rolled his eyes, “No. I’ll tell you this time instead, how about that?”

Imlie chuckled, “Of course. Of course.”

Aryan cleared his throat, “Finally, respecting each other is important, but never let your self-respect get lost, never.”

Imlie swallowed, Aryan’s words had been so similar to what she had told Aditya just a few days ago, but what she didn’t know is whether it really was possible to find the right balance of selfish and selfless in love. Imlie shook her head, banishing those questions, it’s not like she wanted to fall in love ever again.

Imlie cleared her throat, “Got it, thanks for the tip.”

They reached the house and Imlie got out of the car first, Aryan following closely behind.

Imlie met Arpita and Narmada in the living room when she came in the house.

“Kaki Maa, can I make dinner today?” Imlie asked, she wanted to clear her mind before tomorrow, and cooking was the best way to do it.

Narmada looked at Imlie, and smiled, “Sure beta, but are you sure, today was—well so much happened.” Her voice trailed off as she saw Aryan enter the room too.

Imlie followed Narmada’s gaze, and then looked back at one of her favorite women in this world, putting her hand on her cheek, “Kaki Maa, you worry too much. I told you, I know how to set this ABP of yours straight now. And if I don’t, I know you do.” She smiled, trying to reassure Kaki Maa that everything was going to be fine, even if it wasn’t fine now. She had seen the pain a mother went through when their child made a mistake, she’d seen it in Maa’s eyes after Aditya made mistake after mistake — she wanted to save Kaki Maa from that pain.

Arpita stood up, “Tumhara dil, zaroorat se zyaada bada hai, Imlie.” (Your heart, it’s bigger than necessary, Imlie.) She hugged Imlie tight, so tight as if she never wanted to let her go. She’d found a little sister in Imlie, and because of Imlie, Arpita had started to get her brother back. If only Aru wasn’t dead set on ruining all that.

Imlie broke off the hug, and clapped her hands, “Accha, you all relax, I’m cooking.” She winked and made her way to the kitchen, leaving the three Rathores alone in the living room.

Before Narmada or Arpita could speak, Aryan stopped them, “Maa, Didi. I heard what you said, I don’t need to hear it again. You can decide tomorrow if you want to stop calling me your son, or brother. Fine?”

Narmada and Arpita looked at each other. Narmada, though she’d failed to bring out her son’s pain, to help him move on these past four years, she still knew him better than he knew himself. Arpita, she’d resigned herself to living a life without her love, her friend, her husband—but she’d never given the universe permission to take her brother away from her. And she knew that wouldn’t happen. The two of them knew that Imlie would never have continued to stay in this house, in her job, in the presence of their Aru, if she didn’t have a plan to bring him out of this obsession.

The two of them stepped towards him and each pinched one of his cheeks.

“Ow, Maa, Didi, what are you doing?” Aryan stepped back, rubbing his face.

Narmada smiled slightly, “You don’t want to talk tonight, fine, we’ll talk tomorrow. But now, you’re not going to take out any of your anger or whatever on your food. Got it?”

Aryan nodded, “Fine fine.”

Arpi smiled a little too, “And, as punishment for making the two of us so angry tonight, you’re going to go help Imlie make dinner.”

Aryan raised his eyebrows, “Excuse me? No I am not. I don’t cook. Last time you asked me to do this, all I did was cut an onion. She doesn’t need me to do that.”

Arpita rolled her eyes and smiled wider, “Just shut up and go. You know it’s barely going to be a punishment for you.”

“Didi, please.” Aryan shifted, “I have other work to do—“

Narmada shook her head, “No, you have to help make dinner, Baat khatam.” (End of conversation.)

Aryan looked at Narmada and Arpita, and he realized he couldn’t fight this.

“Fine.” Aryan trudged to the kitchen.

Imlie was putting the rice in the pressure cooker when Aryan walked in. She looked at him, “I just started cooking, dinner won’t be ready until half an hour at least.”

“Aryan walked behind the kitchen counter, standing near her in front of the stove, “Why are you doing this? We have staff to cook, I mean, come on?”

Imlie sighed, “I think I’ve given you my lecture on cooking before, I’m not in the mood to give it again. Also, I just like it, okay?”

Aryan muttered, “Right, and if everyone just did what they liked in this world, it would end in a matter of days.”

Imlie grabbed some vegetables from the refrigerator, “Did you say something?”

“No,” Aryan said, “I mean, Maa and Didi said I have to help you…as punishment.”

Imlie turned around, her arms full of tomatoes, cucumbers, ginger, and coriander leaves, “Kaa? But you don’t know how to cook. Are they punishing you or me? Also why is cooking with me a punishment? I’m a delight.”

Aryan rolled his eyes, walked over to her, and grabbed the vegetables from her hands, “Whatever, just tell me what to do, I’m getting hungry now. We’ll just call a truce on our fi—disagreement, for tonight.”

Imlie grabbed a cutting board and some spices from the cabinet, as well as a couple onions.

“What fight?” She asked, “I forgave you, or did you forget that already? You just love starting fights with everyone don’t you? Sometimes random people in an underground fight club, sometimes me, sometimes Shiv—“

Aryan cut her off, he didn’t want to hear her praises of her new best friend and wunderkind lawyer right now, “Fine, you forgave me. But I didn’t say sorry, did I? And you still haven’t told me the real reason you forgave me.”

Imlie started chopping the onions, “Fine,” she repeated in his same tone, “apologize officially, and I’ll forgive you again.”

Aryan took some of the cucumbers, “What do you want to do with these?”

“Chop them up into small squares, and I’m putting them in the yogurt for some raita. Don’t change the subject.”

Aryan grabbed a knife and started chopping, “Sorry,” he muttered.

Imlie cupped her ear dramatically, “I didn’t hear what you said, could you repeat that?”

Aryan said it louder, “I’m sorry.”

Imlie added the chopped onions to a pan of hot oil, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

Aryan groaned, this was excruciating, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I didn’t work harder to destroy Aditya Kumar Tripathi. In fact, I’m actually sorry that I just didn’t fire him on day one and get it over with.”

Imlie chuckled to herself, “I don’t think that’s actually what you should be sorry about.”

Aryan slammed the knife on the counter, “What do you want me to say, damn it?! That I’ve forgiven him, in one day? That I’m just going to move on? What?!”

Imlie looked at him, putting down the ginger and grater in her hand, she walked closer to him, “I didn’t ask for that. In fact, I think I made it pretty clear that I didn’t expect you, nor do I expect anyone, to forget or move on from a loss like that so easily. In fact, I wasn’t even mad that you didn’t tell me why you hate Aditya so much, even though I think I asked a few times before this, didn’t I? What hurt is that your revenge, however well-planned you think it is, goes against every principle, every rule, I thought you stood for. What was wrong was that you then tried to justify it, specifically to me, by exploiting my empathy, my love and respect for Arpita Didi. What hurt was that it wasn’t honest, trust-worthy, respectful to anyone in this situation, especially yourself. And…”Imlie trailed off.

“And? What?” Aryan asked.

Imlie went back to the grating the ginger, “Yeh baat udhaar rahee.” Aryan stared at her as she chopped a couple green chilies. Imlie’d noticed this, “after you finish with the cucumbers, do the tomatoes, and the coriander leaves too.” She turned away from Aryan completely, busying herself trying to get more spices and lentils from the cabinets. She didn’t want to tell him the third reason. Because he’d just repeat his favorite line, ‘hum dost nahin hain.’ (We are not friends.) What hurt her the most was that she had given everything she could to this friendship, unintentionally, but she had. She had supported him, as he had supported her. She had trusted him with her career, her feelings, her life. And her feelings, her family, her anything weren’t important enough for him to even consider, for one moment. She knew she could never be as important to anyone as their real family was to them, Aryan wasn’t an exception. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that her friendship was as important to Aryan as his relationship with Arvind, or Arpita Didi, or Kaki Maa — but it hurt that it didn’t matter at all. She was infuriated with herself for forgiving him. But what could she do, it was like there was a rusty switch in her brain that was stuck. It wouldn’t flip to ‘hate Aryan Singh Rathore’ even if she tried with all her might to flip it.

Aryan finished chopping everything Imlie had asked him to, and he stood behind the counter, painfully aware that Imlie didn’t want to talk to him. But he couldn’t stop himself, “I’m sorry, for…well, for disappointing you. I didn’t intend to do that.” He looked at her, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Finally, after a few seconds but what felt like a painful week to Aryan, Imlie looked at him, “I forgive you. Don’t do it again,” She grabbed the tomatoes and added them to the masala in the pan, “but if you do, don’t expect me to clean up your mess again.”

Aryan pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, suppressing a smile, “Because you’re everyone’s hero and you have to fix everything?”

Imlie glared at him, “Listen, I may be from a village, but I’m not stupid. I know full well I sometimes…well sometimes I’m—“

“Too nice and mahaan to a fault?” Aryan suggested, grinning now.

Imlie shoved him lightly, “Shut up, ABP.”

Imlie finished making dinner and Aryan couldn’t do much but watch, she didn’t ask him for more help after the vegetables.

As she was putting everything into serving bowls, Aryan finally asked her, “So, why did you forgive me? You still haven’t told me the truth.”

Imlie sighed, “You’re sounding like one of those old cassette tapes the Sarpanch in Pagdandia would play every day, repeating the same line in a song over and over again. What’s your obsession with this? Also I told you, I’m learning how to compartmentalize.” She smiled at her handiwork before her. She’d made dahl, rice, raita, and a curry and now she was starving. She didn’t notice Aryan narrow his eyes.

“Ok, fine, you learned to compartmentalize.” Aryan walked from his leaning position on the opposite counter and took her wrist, turning her to face him, “But why do I get my own box?”

Imlie looked up at him, “What? What do you mean?”

Aryan closed his eyes, she really was a gaddhi, “I mean, why are you considering me at all? If you’re so in love with your family, your ex-in-laws, that is; if you’re so hell bent on your career and your future…why put anything in a box that doesn’t belong in your head at all? Right?”

Aryan had been brave enough to ask the question, partially to rile Imlie up and partially because he wanted to make sure she wasn’t falling weak to her emotions again, losing control of her future for the Tripathis…or anyone else. But now, now he was afraid to hear her answer.

Imlie swallowed, contemplating her answer. She didn’t want to give Aryan the satisfaction of her saying that she still saw him as a friend, as someone she respected, that she wanted to trust, that she cared about. Because he would just call it weak behavior, feelings that would derail her from her goal. But she found herself unable to lie, or at least unable to avoid at least a half truth, “I respect you. I like…I like the respect you have for your work, your family, and most importantly, for yourself. I don’t think me hating you, or not forgiving you, would have that much effect on you. But on the off chance that it did, I didn’t want one of the few people I respect right now to be hurt because of me, that’s all.”

Aryan looked into Imlie’s eyes, searching for the hidden words behind this speech. There was something she wasn’t saying, but he couldn’t figure it out.

“That’s all?” Aryan asked.

Imlie closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sent of the dahl on the counter behind her instead of the leather and pine scent coming from Aryan, “Yes. What more is there?”

“Right,” Aryan put his free hand on the counter behind Imlie, essentially trapping her, “Right, that’s all—OW! What the hell!”

He jumped back, Aryan had put his hand right next to the kadai Imlie had used, it was still hot even though the stove was off. He shook his hand, and then examined it, There was a slight blister already forming on the side of his hand. He was about to rush to the freezer for some ice, when Imlie pulled him and his hand to the sink, and ran cold water over it.

“Are you insane, ABP? Who the hell told you to come into the kitchen if you don’t know how to cook? Honestly, how did you manage by yourself when you were in college, what did you ask your friends to make Maggi for you every day? Stop fidgeting.” Imlie was shouting and her eyes were blazing.

Aryan looked at her, the pain already disappearing from just a few seconds under the cool water, but a different pain started to throb now. He could see her concern for him, her care, even though he’d spent the whole day completely disrespecting that. She’d said he’d ‘disappointed’ her. What if he did it again? What if a month from now, a year from now — she was still in his life, and he became the reason for her tears, not Aditya Kumar Tripathi or anyone else? He pulled his hand out of the sink and away from Imlie, and grabbed a towel.

“It’s fine now.” Aryan said, drying his hand.

Imlie was still looking at his hand and she made for it again, “But—“

“I said I’m fine, let’s go eat dinner.” Aryan interjected. He took two of the bowls and called for a staff member to bring the other two to the table.

Imlie stood alone in the kitchen, worried and confused.