Here is the next chapter as promised. As you can see I take my promise on the all mighty aloos very seriously. đ
Match Made in Heaven - Chapter 17
It was truly surprising, how little things changed between her and Shlok after he'd actually admitted to having some kind of emotional attachment to her.
Astha had waited, heart in her throat, for what he would do or say next, but he hadn't said anything. He'd brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek, and then again down her jaw line, making her lean into his touch, and then -
"Sojal can you please just stop it. I will but you that necklace next time we go shopping. I promise- oh, hi guys."
Varad had happened. Varad had happened, and off Shlok had gone, eyes frozen over, shoulders set and spine as stiff as a board.
Astha had seriously been contemplating murder, sitting there, bereft, and a funny ringing in her ears.
The shock of having an almost totally open Shlok before her, and then staring at his back as he departed the kitchen, had made her angry - and furious enough - to make her fingers itch.
**
Dinner was a lively affair, despite the fact that Shlok wouldn't even look at her, and Joti and Abhay seemed as if they still weren't talking to each other. Abhay was slouching in his chair, barely touching his plate, eyes narrowed on Joti as she pointedly ignored him and carried on a rather one sided conversation with a distracted looking Raj.
Frustrated beyond the telling of it, Astha made sure to laugh, smile, and speak when spoken to. She forced herself to eat, but her favorite carrot soup seemed tasteless this year. She kept watching Shlok from the corner of her eye. She never had been able to read him easily, he was always so cold and guarded. Unfortunately she had no trouble whatsoever reading exactly what he was thinking just then.
Her throat was so tight she could barely stand it, by the time she finally managed to catch his hooded, icy eyes with hers. Her dad was in the middle of a tale about his latest happening in the government affairs, and everyone's attention seemed to be thankfully trained on him - and she was glad, because what she saw in Shlok's eyes made her lips tremble, and tears well up, for just an instant before she forced her stare away.
Confusion, fury - they were etched into that sharp gaze. He was so at odds with what he knew, here, among her family, and what she was making him feel, and he was obviously hating it.
There was something else there too, in his eyes, that tested her acting abilities to their limits. Something that made her chest ache with hopelessness and hurt.
Regret.
**
That night, long after everyone else had gone up to their warm beds, Shlok sat sprawled against the pillows before the fire in the Kiloskar's darkened living room, brooding, contemplating the brightly colored candles and also what he'd told Astha only a few hours earlier, before they'd been so rudely interrupted by his idiotically grinning brother.
Shlok glared into the dying flames, cursing his moment of weakness. He wanted to take it back - he had ever since he'd been stupid enough to say it. He'd had no business saying what he had, being who he was, even if he had meant it - but then he always had been possessed of that certain perversity of behavior, that need to do certain things just because he knew he shouldn't.
But what had he said to her, after all? It wasn't as if he'd confessed his undying love. He didn't love her. He wouldn't - and it wasn't as if he'd asked her to become his real wife. Astha knew know how it stood between them.
Yes, she knew - and it was hurting her.
Shlok dropped his head back on one of the pillows, and closed his eyes, clenching his jaw and wincing at the bruised feeling of it.
He'd seen her face at dinner, and known she'd realized he was regretting every stammering, stupid word he'd said to her in the kitchen. He'd seen her face nearly crumple, her soft brown eyes go dark and wet with realization and pain - he'd seen her small hands, nearly hidden by the exquisitely cut sleeves of her salwar, fist around her linen napkin in her lap, watched the knuckles go white, before she'd ducked her head, defensively hiding her profile from him with the fall of her shiny black hair.
When, moments later, her father had asked her something, she'd looked up to answer him with a false, cheerful expression pasted onto her face, looking to everyone but Shlok as if she hadn't a single care in the world. He'd known better though. He knew all about false expressions. He also knew what could come from hiding emotions.
Why wouldn't he? He'd been doing it since he'd been old enough to understand that emotional attachments only brought pain, and caring about someone or something, was considered a weakness.
Astha was slowly starting to build a wall around herself. She'd displayed that tonight with the ease with which she'd snapped herself out of her emotional state. Little Astha Kiloskar wasn't scared of him anymore, wasn't anywhere near as innocent as she'd been at the beginning of the year. She also wasn't anywhere near as happy, either.
And it was all his fault.
Shlok closed his eyes against the twinge in his chest - it was fast becoming familiar, and he hated it. He tried to hate Astha for making him feel it...but all he could manage was a strong resentment.
He brought up one hand, curling it into a fist around a handful of his shirt, over that aching place in his chest, and rolled onto his side, resting his head on his arm, burying his other hand in his hair.
There it was, that bloody guilt again. Creeping up on him.
Dealing with Astha Kiloskar was fast becoming another matter entirely.
Shlok groaned, rubbing the back of his neck beneath his hair. As if anything was ever easy anymore. Of course, he didn't really trust anything that was 'easy'. His father had taught him that. Things were better off being difficult. Easy was dangerous.
He found himself wondering when everything had changed. When it had all ceased being just a means to an end. There were too many instances to count. Few days after she came back from being discharged from the hospital after the fall. He was walking down the staris talking to his brother when he saw the the glint of his necklace at her throat.
How many mornings since he'd left it for her had he woken up thinking about it encircling her throat, or if she'd even kept it?
Shlok recalled how a gust of wind had blown her hair across her eyes, and Joti had come up to stand behind her then, casting a shadow over the gleaming silver ornament, and he'd found it a rather mocking gesture, as if someone from above were trying to send him a very pointed hint.
He remembered then, how he'd almost said to hell with it, with everything, when he'd looked back up at Astha's face, her satiny peaches and cream complexion, and was, just for an instant, nearly overcome with the sudden need to feel her arms wrapped around him, with the fiery drape of her hair chasing away the hateful, promising glares early piercing his back with their intensity, and the frigid chill. But his pride had won out in the end just as it always had; his ingrained need to be feared, respected, and in control of everything.
Slowly drowning in a sudden, very unfamiliar, very unwelcome pool of self-pity, Shlok was pressing his fist almost hurtfully against his heart, as if to still it's beating, when a slight rustling sound caught his ear, and he peered out from beneath his lashes to catch a glimpse of a white ruffle flash past the doorway into the darkness beyond.
He listened as light footsteps entered the kitchen, and then he heard Astha humming to herself, beneath her breath as she returned down the hall, but the sound was very light and small, the old song sad, and off-key.
When he saw her enter the living room out of the corner of his eye, and being the rather sneaky sort he was, he quickly feigned sleep.
Her footsteps, muffled by the carpet, paused, presumably when she caught sight of him, and then there came the noise of her setting something - a glass, perhaps - down on one of the rickety old tables nearby.
The night was so silent and still, he fancied he could hear her breathing, the sound coming light and jerky as she drew near. The logs in the fireplace popped and snapped, and he nearly blinked in reaction.
"Shlok?" she finally asked in a breathy, nervous whisper that he suddenly wanted to feel against his ear. "I'm sorry, did I disturb you?- oh...are you asleep?"
Shlok had to kill the urge to roll his eyes. That much should have been obvious. He very well might have made some cutting comment, if he hadn't been so curious about what she might do, or say, thinking he was indeed asleep. She'd probably say something stupid, profess her undying love, or something equally and painfully lame, he told himself silently, trying to inject some venom into his thoughts of her. Of course it didn't work...
A soft, warm sigh brushed over his forehead then, as she settled down onto her knees beside him; he felt the soft cotton lace ruffle of her gown brush his fingers where they lay on the pillows at his hip.
White lace and ruffles - so childlike. He should have known. He'd nearly bet his entire inheritance that her gown was made of pink flannel, plaid or something similar.
What she did next though surprised him more than anything ever had in his entire life. The feeling of having a blanket drawn over him, and tucked warmly beneath his chin was a completely foreign one. It was a strange sensation, both complex, and oddly simple, all at once. Hard to describe...soothing, he supposed, if he had to give it a name.
Shlok didn't think he could ever remember anyone tucking him in, or even covering him up. There was that bloody unsettling rush of warmth again. He fought the urge to growl.
A small, soft hand hesitantly touched his hair, across the long fringe brushing across his eyes, and gently swept the strands back. Shlok nearly gave himself away catching his breath when he felt a jumpy tremble in her warm fingertips.
Within mere moments of her stroking her fingers back through his hair, her nails ever so lightly scratching against his scalp, he was lying, completely relaxed as he'd never been, and utterly careless to whatever the future might bring.
He fell asleep at that point, though he'd been determined not to, just after Astha's silky lips lingeringly brushed his forehead.
**
"You've been down to see him, then?" Joti's soft voice asked.
Astha jumped guiltily as she let herself into her room, and then she bit her lip, and closed the door.
"Well? Did you speak with him? Did you talk to Shlok?"
"Shlok, Shlok - it's always about Shlok! Don't talk to me about him. I can't stand to be reminded of him right now." Astha made straight for her bed, trying to ignore the tingling in her hand from the feel of Shlok's hair sliding through her fingers. She'd done her best to keep from going to him, but even in his sleep he'd been thoroughly irresistible. Lines had been creasing his brow, and he'd been in such a protective position - almost as if something were hurting him. He'd seemed so tense, even in his sleep, and all she'd wanted was to make him relax so he could rest...
"Astha...are you sure you're quite well? You weren't yourself, earlier."
"And you were, Joti?" she asked wryly. "I saw you two at dinner. What did Abhay say that got to you so?"
"Well, I'll tell you, I don't wish to repeat it! He was being positively hateful." The sheets shifted noisily as Joti moved around in her bed. "At the very least, he made an attempt to control that temper of his, before he opened his mouth."
"Oh, go on. You know how Abhay is - tomorrow he'll be of a completely different mind," said Astha, burrowing gratefully into her covers.
"Ha! Do you want to know what that little bugger said to me?"
Astha suppressed a giggle, despite her own misery, and grinned into the darkness. "What?"
"I'm standing at the front window, by the door, right? Abhay walks up behind me, and says, "Oh, Joti, Astha thinks we should stop arguing and start making out - wanna' go out with me?""
"Oh, no..." Astha groaned. "He didn't." So much for their little discussion earlier!
"He did, all right."
"Well, I certainly didn't tell him to go about it that way. What did you do?"
"I told him to go away, and come back to talk to me when he could talk about his feelings for me himself," said Joti sternly. "Honestly, what girl would melt beneath the words, "Oi, my sister says we'd get on well together?""
"Poor Abhay," Astha couldn't help but laugh, then, especially at her friend's impression of her brother's low, gruff voice.
"So. What did Shlok say? You weren't very happy at dinner."
Astha swallowed, and then wet her lips. "Well...he told me, after he and Abhay had come back in, not in so many words, of course...he admitted he did have feelings for me."
"But he didn't tell you he loved you?" asked the other girl quietly.
"This is Shlok we're talking about. I almost could have fooled myself into thinking that he had, though, as intense as it got. I was so happy, Joti, and it lasted all of about five minutes."
"What happened?"
"Varad." Astha said flatly, as if that explained everything.
"Oh...I suppose that clammed the git right up, then, didn't it? I can't see my brother being very open about his feelings in front of one of our older brother."
"Got it in one," sighed Astha. "And then, at dinner, I could see denial just written all over his face. He wouldn't say one word to me. He couldn't stand the fact that he'd opened up to me - I suppose I'll be lucky if he ever even 'looks' at me again."
**
Astha and Joti descended the stairs to the sound of laughter.
At the entrance to the living room, Astha paused, rubbing eyes still half closed from sleep, and then self-consciously pulled at the front of her slightly ratty pink and yellow bathrobe. She caught at Joti's elbow.
"Maybe we should get dressed, first," she told her friend in a whisper, nervously motioning to the rumpled, uncombed hair falling down her back, and over her shoulders.
"We're properly covered," Joti commented defensively. "I'll guarantee you the boys aren't even dressed yet, either. Just relax, Astha, it's Diwali! Besides, if Shlok and Abhay can't stand to see us looking less than perfect just this once, then they don't deserve us!"
Making a weak face, Astha balked again, but Joti grabbed her hand and tugged her into the living room after her. She stumbled in noisily, flushing in embarrassment as every head turned her way - including Shlok, who was already fully dressed. She shot a glare at Joti who gave a sheepish shrug and settle down on the floor between Raj, and Abhay, who smiled at her nightclothes with a funny sort of goofy look on his face.
Astha straightened her back, shaking her hair from her eyes, and managed to stick a small smile on her face as she was greeted by her family. She completely ignored Shlok.
If he'd thought she'd looked lovely the night before - her morning dishabille, and sleep flushed cheeks made him want to do and say things that would most likely get him killed and mangled by her family, all of whom were present.
Shlok could barely manage to take his eyes off her, and his stare was bordering on the point of rudeness when her father spoke to him, and he found himself with a wrapped package in his hands.
He was staring at the green and red wrapping paper when he felt Astha sit down beside him, though he felt the only reason she sat in that particular spot was because it was the only space left available.
Shlok looked at that present for so long that Astha finally spoke, sounding exasperated.
"Well?"
He slid his eyes over to look at her after a moment. "Well, what?"
She shook her head, and the warm scent of the soap she'd used the night before caught his attention.
"Well, aren't you going to open it, silly?"
Shlok watched her for a second longer, and then glanced back at the gift in his lap.
"Shlok," she sighed. "So bloody suspicious all the time - it's from my grandmother. Open it!"
He did, and inside found a rather unsightly hand made sweater.
Astha giggled from beside, him, and her hair brushed his shoulder. "That's granny for you."
"Er...thank you, granny" he said politely, ignoring the snickers around him.
"Here, open the others," Astha told him, dumping a few more gifts near his feet.
It was her family's tradition to gift each other on Diwali just as one does for Christmas.
Astha ended up with clothes from her parents as well.
Later after everyone had wandered off to find breakfast, Astha was setting off up the stairs to get dressed when a disgruntled looking Shlok caught her.
"Astha, wait...I wanted to give you my present."
Frowning, she turned to look at him. He was standing on the steps below her. His clothes were a bit wrinkled from having slept in them all night, and his long, silvery-black hair was straggling in his fierce, pale eyes, but she didn't think he could look any more excruciatingly handsome.
Wait, had he just said - ?
"Present?" Shlok had bought her a present?
"You didn't have to get me anything - "
"I know I didn't, Kiloskar," he snapped, thrusting a large, flat box at her. "Just open the bloody thing."
Just as quickly as he'd appeared, he disappeared, leaving Astha standing on the stairs, looking bewildered, feeling fuzzy and warm, clutching a cream brocade paper wrapped box with a magnificent golden bow adorning the top.
The gold tag, written in green, slashing ink, read:
'To: Astha - Stay warm.' The 'From:' space was blank.
Astha sat on her bed, alone in her room, and opened the gift carefully, peeling away the thick, expensive paper inch by inch, until a glossy white box was revealed underneath. Her mouth fell open when she opened that - inside, under several layers of iridescent tissue, lay a beautiful white and green saree with matching blouse.
Hardly daring to breathe, Astha tugged the saree from the box. She quickly took a shower and got dressed in the new cloth. She pulled a brush through her hair, and smoothed it behind her ears as she put it in matching green earrings.
She looked hesitantly into her mirror, then, and swallowed hard, not recognizing the girl who stood there.
**
Shlok had a mouth full of pancakes when Astha entered the kitchen - and he promptly choked.
He was happy to see Raj do the exact same thing - it made him feel less stupid.
Wiping his mouth with his napkin, and gulping down some juice, Shlok could only stare at her. Where had the charming, fluffy little ragamuffin from early that morning gone?
"Looking good, Astha!" Varad called, and her dad nodded his approval from around his coffee mug.
Abhay was scowling at Raj, whose eyes were fairly bulging, and whose hand was still clutching the syrup he'd been about to pass to him.
"Wow, you look great Astha," Joti said, a smile tugging at her lips as she shot a look at Shlok.
He was still trying to form words when Astha walked right up to him, revealing the delicate skin around the exposed stomach. The soft silky saree she wore clung tightly across her slim, softly rounded hips, and the folds of the saree blouse he'd given her fell open over the soft cream fabric stretching across her full breasts. His eyes were drifting upwards when he saw his necklace laying out over the neck of her blouse, where it gleamed in the morning sunlight coming through the mismatched, stained glass windows lining the kitchen. It was just there, for everyone to see, and it just struck him in an odd way.
And everyone did see it, when her mother drew attention to it a minute later.
"Astha, what is that awful thing round your neck?"
Every eye in the room went straight to the pendant.
"Oh, it was a gift," Astha said unconcernedly, and she smiled - right at him. "I ...like it."
That was when Shlok realized, admitting with a awestruck, stunned reluctance, that Astha Shlok Kiloskar Agnigotri had finally just completely, undeniably stolen his heart.
To be cont...
Itti Si Khushi Sab TV
Bade Achhe Lagte Hain
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