AR: Love Is... #4 [New Thread Link: Page 152]

Part 26

The microwave beeped, catching his attention. Armaan put down the newspaper and took his coffee out of the microwave. He looked at the closed door in front of him and then looked at the clock. They were supposed to leave in half an hour and she still hadn't come out. He'd already knocked on her door and on getting a sour reply he'd backed off. One more thing in common. They both weren't morning people. Shaking his head he wondered whether to knock again.

"Okay, it's about time." He muttered, putting down his coffee mug. It was fifteen minutes later and she was still in. He wondered what on earth she was doing in there, she didn't really strike him as the girl who'd take an hour just todress up.

He knocked twice and was greeted with silence. "Riddhima?"

Frustrated with the lack of response he turned the knob and opened the door.

"How much time-" he stopped speaking at the sight in front of him. She was sleeping, her head on the study table. While her hair was unmade, he noticed she was fully dressed for their day out. Chuckling, he made his way to her.

"Riddhima?"

He raised his eyebrows. Talk about being a heavy sleeper. He'd practically said that in her ear but she didn't even stir. He bent down and shook her by the shoulder.

She groaned. "Oh for the love of god...let me sleep..."

Armaan grinned and shook her once more. Sleep finally let go of her as she jumped up in alarm, causing her head to bang against his nose.

Armaan clutched his nose in pain. "Shit shit shit. Ow! Riddhima yaar, ek toh I came to wake you up..."

She was standing by now, and she was finally awake. "Sorry! Does it hurt too much?"

"Ofcourse it hurts." He rubbed his nose. "Pata nahi sar hai ki patthar." Muttering under his breath he mumbled a small goodmorning before leaving the room.

Riddhima bit her lip guiltily. How come she was always so clumsy around him? She looked at her face in the mirror and sighed tiredly. She'd hardly slept last night because of the apprehension for the awards. Quickly pinning her hair up, she wore a jacket over her clothes; the weather was pretty chilly. Grabbing her handbag, she moved out of the room.

She walked into the kitchen only to find him engrossed in his newspaper, his nose a bright red. She stifled her laugh and sat in front of him pouring the juice out from the carton. She looked at her watch, they still had 5 minutes to leave, and she could grab a waffle.

Riddhima ate in silence, trying to be as quick as possible. His red nose caught her attention once again. "You should put some ice on that thing!"

He looked up to see her worried face. "Riddhima chill yaar. It'll be fine!"

"Okay! But just so you know, you look like Rudolf..."

"Rudolf?" he asked her, his features contorting into a frown.

"You know..."

"Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose..." she sang the age-old carol and laughed as she saw him glare at her.

"That is not how I look!"

"That is exactly how you look. I'm telling you man, put some ice."

"It's cold."

"The ice? Umm Armaan are you sure you haven't hit your head? It's ice. Now I don't know 'bout you, but it has been my experience that ice is almost always COLD." She quipped sardonically.

"You dimwit, I was talking about the weather!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It's already so cold, I don't want to put ice!"

"Geez. Don't be stupid, you'll look ridiculous with that red nose if you don't put ice. It's already so red, its only going to turn redder in the cold!"

"I never look ridiculous." He stated.

She stared at him, her eyebrows raised. It was enough to make him realize she was serious.

Muttering about how people just don't care what he thinks anymore, he put some ice on his nose, glaring pointedly at Riddhima, everytime it stung him. This was all her fault.

"Uff, Armaan don't be a baby! We were supposed to leave ten minutes ago!" She looked at him, dabbing the ice at a snail's pace. "Aise toh abhi kya, kal subah tak nahi nikal paayenge."

He finally set the ice pack aside and they moved to the foyer, ready to leave.

Locking the door, he gave the keys to the receptionist while Riddhima waited for him near their hired car.

"Dude, it's not my fault we're late!" he argued back, continuing their little banter from the suite.

"Uh, yes it is! Who takes that long in applying an ice pack?"

"Who bangs someone's nose with their head when the someone is about to wish them Goodmorning?" he repeated in the same tone.

"It was an accident!"

"Which caused us to be twenty minutes late. Admit it, it's all your fault." He replied smugly, sitting in the car and starting it.

"It's not."

"Why were you so sleepy anyway? We slept early enough!"

She looked at him and shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I barely caught four hours of sleep."

"Was the fever troubling you?"

She smiled at the concern in his voice. "No, it wasn't. I was just tensed about the awards tonight..." she explained in a small voice.

"Hey, don't worry okay? You've done brilliantly, and I'm sure you'll win!" he threw her a sideways glance, reassuring her. She nodded hoping what he said was true.

They reached the Seine soon enough and all she did was look out of the window. The city was astoundingly beautiful, even more so in daylight. Armaan dropped the car off at one of the rental company's stations while she bought tickets for them.

They were going to travel in the Batobus or the "water-bus". It was a huge boat, which navigated through Paris on water and it offered a hop on ' hop off service which allowed them to get down and get back up, on any of their specified stops.

She rushed towards the window seat and he took the one opposite her. They sat facing each other occaisionally talking about small things that caught their attention. Riddhima used the time to take out a few unwanted things from her bag and she went to the attendant to ask where the trashcan was.

Armaan looked at her, talking to the attendant in rapid French. He didn't get a word of what they were saying but he saw how the attendant's eyes were glued to Riddhima and he didn't like it one little bit.

She came back to see him looking out of the window sullenly. "What's up?"

"So you noticed me!"

"Huh?"

"You know, you could just go back and talk to that guy, I'm sure he'll love it."

She bit back a smile at his adorable expressions. "Armaan, I was asking him for the trashcan!"

"And that took you fifteen minutes?"

"Well, he did tell me a bit about Paris, in French. And then I didn't have the heart to stop him. French sounds so good..."

"It doesn't sound that good." He snorted.

"You wanna bet? I could say anything in French, and it'd sound sexy."

"Try me."

She went and sat beside him and leaned close. His eyes widened a little but he sat still. She put her lips to his ears and said something in French. Okay, so he had to admit, it did sound good.

She pulled away, looking at him expectantly. "So?"

"Fine...so it sounds good." He acknowledged and she smiled smugly. "What did you say?"

Riddhima laughed at his question wondering what his face would look like when she tld him.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You wanna know what I told you?"

"Yes!"

"I umm said that...I hate you and you're an asshole."

"You have to be kidding me!"

"Nope! I told you! French makes everything sound good."

He furrowed his eyebrows together cutely as he pondered over what she said. Riddhima looked at him think it over and she couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at her lips.

He finally looked at her. "How will I know if you abuse me? You could be giving me a million abuses and I'd say thank you for all I know!" he asked in mock horror.

She playfully smacked him on the shoulder, laughing. Eyes twinkling, she nudged him on the shoulder. "Tell me. Why would I abuse you in the first place?"

He grinned at her comment and put an arm around her while she relaxed under his hold, waiting for their stop to arrive.

"So, how many times have you been to Paris?"

They were walking down the pathway, after the boat had dropped them off. Riddhima wanted to see the Notre Dame and so they'd gotten down the boat a while ago and were now headed towards the church, having closely followed the little road atlas that Armaan carried.

"Thrice, counting this trip."

"Thrice? Wow."

"Yeah. The first time was for a holiday when I was fifteen, the second time was for a summer project for Uni and this is the third time!"

"You did your summer project in Paris???" she asked incredulously. Who did that?!

"Err yes...the topic was Parisian Architecture." He said, smiling sheepishly.

"Dude, I did my project on Chateaux in Paris, difference being, I did mine sitting in a library. You know, like normal people." She laughed, shaking her head.

"Shut up. I had to cut short my stay you know, from four weeks to three."

Riddhima patted him in his head, in mock sympathy. "Oh you poor little rich kid! Tsk."

"Very funny."

"I know."

He merely raised one sardonic eyebrow while she continued to have fun at his expense.

Armaan watched as she spoke non-stop about...everything. He'd never seen her talk like that. She was literally bursting with energy, ever since they got here. He listened to her in surprise, she knew a lot about Paris, from reading, researching and uni work, as she said.

She was telling him about the history of Notre Dame while he listened to her in rapt attention for most of it, while zoning out once in a while. He didn't have the heart to tell her he knew most of what she was saying. Armaan smiled as he recollected how she'd poked fun at his money. He was glad to have finally found someone who genuinely liked to be with him rather than having his money or status loom over their friendship.

"Don't you agree?" she asked him, snapping him out of his reverie.

Having no idea of what she'd just said, he nodded in agreement while they stood in queue for the entry to the church.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she watched the most beautiful sight in front of her. They'd stepped into the church and almost immediately the peaceful silence separated them from the rush hour traffic outside. "It's beautiful." She whispered.

"This is just the entrance, wait till we get in. It has the most amazing stained-glass work, trust me."

They talked in hushed voices, somehow they couldn't bring themselves to raise their voices and break the cocoon of tranquility that enveloped everyone and everything in the Church.

There weren't too many people, it being a weekday. And Riddhima liked it this way. She could see each little thing in absolute detail. She looked beside her but she didn't see him. Looking behind her, she saw him put a few coins in the box and take one of the huge candles. She walked towards him and put a few coins of her own. He smiled at her before lighting the matchstick.

They put their candles on the stand, one beside the other, as they watched the tiny flame morph into reds, oranges and yellows, flickering with all it's might. The tiny light bounced on the stained glass that adorned the windows, making it look even prettier. She closed her eyes and said a small prayer, something they'd learnt in the orphanage and when she opened her eyes, she saw him doing the same. For the longest time she was lost in him. The way all the worry lines left his face, the way the golden light of the candle fell on his face. She noticed the tiniest things, things that probably didn't matter. Later, she would call it her moment of clarity. It was just one of those moments, where your perception is flawless and you see everything with vividity like never before. She knew she loved him and in that moment, she was ready to believe that maybe, just maybe there was a chance for them.

Armaan opened his eyes, only to see her staring past him, lost in her thoughts. The hint of a blush on her cheek gave him a clue as to what she was thinking, and for a moment, he felt like telling her everything. Sighing, he shook his head lightly. The only thing that had happened to his feelings over time was that they'd intensified. Maybe Abhi was right. Maybe he should just tell her and spare himself the torture. If not love, he was sure she atleast harbouredsomething for him. And that something gave him hope.

"Riddhima?"

She snapped out of her thoughts as she heard his voice. Smiling sheepishly she apologized while they moved forward.

"And look at the building over here, the tiny one..." She listened to him, engrossed in his explanation of the history of the Church. They were watching the array of models, the last part of their tour of the Church. The models showed the history of the Church through the ages, while focusing on the architecture. Riddhima nodded to herself. They were right. Paris was truly an architect's delight.

The cold wind hit her face and she her hands dug deeper into the pockets of her jacket. She looked at him. He was wearing a casual shirt, his sleeves rolled up and he didn't feel the need to wear a jacket; he said he was a "cold person", whatever that was supposed to mean.

They made their way to a creperie; it'd been quite a while since they had breakfast. He ordered two Nutella crepes, as Riddhima watched the man make them. They looked a lot like dosas, except for the batter of course. To be honest, she'd told him that the dish sounded terribly boring, but he'd insisted on having it, telling her that you haven't really seen Paris until you've eaten a crepe. Rolling her eyes, she'd agreed to his badgering.

He brought her crepe to her, wrapped in brown paper. She took a bite of the dish and a small sound of appreciation made it's way out, as the taste exploded in her mouth. The USP of the dish was, she observed, it's simplicity. There was nothing in it, except for the nutella, but it tasted absolutely delicious. She saw him giving her a smug smile and she nodded in acknowledgement, smiling.

Armaan saw her take a bite of the crepe and then smile at him in acceptance. He bit into his own, and they made their way to a nearby bench, to finish the rest of it. She reached into their backpack for the water bottle when he noticed a speck of Nutella near her chin.

"There's a little chocolate on your cheek." He told her, pointing towards it.

Riddhima took the tissue and wiped it off. He saw the leftover bit and moved his thumb to wipe it off. She only looked at him wordlessly as he removed the chocolate and wiped his hands on the tissue. A nervous smile framed his features and he looked away before it got awkward. She smiled right back and they got up, starting to walk again. Neither one of them said a word, as they made their way to the metro station.

They took a train leading to Musee de Orsay, a relatively small, (although just as beautiful) museum than The Louvre.

"No no, Impressionist art is definitely better than the earlier eras! How could you possibly think otherwise?!" she asked him, incredulously. The Museum they'd just visited had an enviable collection of some of the world's best artwork, from the impressionist era. Riddhima had been bowled away by the art, but Armaan still had his admiration reserved for eighteenth century artwork.

"What? No! Impressionist paintings aren't art! They look like a bunch of children's drawings, no kidding!"

"Of course not! Have you seen the paintings?! Dude, there is so much feeling; the paintings emote like never before! And there is nothing like that in eighteenth century artwork, where people are sitting and posing for boring family portraits. Some of these paintings, like Water Lilies by Monet, are so beautiful!"

"Beautiful? If it's true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you have a horrible eyesight!" he quipped. "That painting is not beautiful! It's just a bunch of strokes of paint, made haphazardly. There is no method, no perfection in technique."

"But it's not about the technique here, Armaan. Those raw, haphazard strokes of paint portray more than any perfect stroke ever can! There is a method to their madness, we just have to see it. The utter imperfection of the painting is what attracts you the most. It's the rough edges, the odd color combinations the awkward fugures, that's what makes the paintings to amazing. They're a window to the artist's soul!"

"I disagree. There are plenty of paintings with perfect techniques, which project the artist's mindset."

"And there are plenty that don't! You're not getting what I say, Armaan. Take the "Starry Night" for example. There is no technique, as you say, in that painting. But don't you see it? The lack of technique, the lack of method, is a technique in itself! It clearly shows the disturbed state of Van Gogh's mind, during his time in the asylum, before his suicide. The lonely dark tower, the small village below the tower, it all shows his feelings. The way he felt no one understood him; tell me, if that isn't emotion in colors then what is?"

There was a small silence between them before he said, "I still disagree you know?"

She chuckled. "I don't think you're ever going to change your opinion! Oh well, I can try."

They shared a laugh as they walked on. Armaan had enjoyed this back-and-forth of opinions with her. He liked it that she was someone he could argue with, intellectually. Abhi and Nikki were both doctors and cared little about the nuances of art. This was refreshing.

They were in the boat again, now heading back to their hotel. It was almost two in the afternoon, the weather was sunny enough to remove her jacket. She shrugged it off her as she sat down beside him with a sigh, tired. The awards were scheduled for the evening and so they had decided to get back to the hotel, order lunch, rest for a while and then get dressed. The nervouseness was bothering her again and so she plugged in her iPod and focused on the music.

She had no idea when the comforting warmth of the sunlight had lulled her into sleep, but she was woken up by him. "I'm sorry, I guess I fell asleep. Did we reach?" she asked him, while stifling a yawn.

"No we haven't reached yet, I woke you up to see the view. Look." He pointed towards the sky and Riddhim craned her neck to see it. It was the Eiffel Tower. The sunlight enhanced it's view and the sheer massiveness of the structure was over whelming. Its top dazzled in the light and Riddhima looked at it, a smile adorning her face. She looked back at him, about to say thanks for waking her up when she was stunned into silence. He too had been looking at the colossal structure over her shoulder and looking back had brought her centimeters away from his face. She looked away suddenly, and they resumed their seats. She couldn't help but notice how couple-y this was. The way his hand rested on the small of her back while he looked over her shoulder. She willed the thoughts out of her mind; everytime she thought of something like this she ended up saying something extremely embarrassing.

The slight brush of his fingers brought her out of her reverie. Their hands lay side by side on the seat. Not knowing what else to do, she let them be.

He remembered Modi's words. Maybe he should make a move on her. Or not. God, this was frustrating. He'd never actually thought so much before doing something harmless like flirting. Trust her to change all of that! Armaan saw their hands lying side by side and took a deep breath. Make a move Armaan, don't be a wimp.

She nearly jumped out of her seat in surprise when she felt him hold her hand hesitantly. Riddhima looked at him, but he was pointedly looking in the opposite direction. A smile tugging at her lips, she held his hand too, neither of them moving it until theur reached the hotel.

CONTINUED ON PAGE 51...the update was too big. *Pats herself on the back* 🤣