Jab We Met part 5 updated (arsh fan fic)

Seychelles

The Seychelles are a group of one hundred fifteen islands in the western Indian Ocean with Africa just under three hundred miles away. With the water sparkling like blue sapphires, the white sandy beaches so peaceful, and the fluffy clouds blotted across the sky, Armaan felt that this was the ideal place for him to vacation.

Dr. Armaan Mallik had come to the Seychelles to take a break from his own life. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually utilized some of his vacation time. His preference had always been work ' to make someone's day cosmetically, or giving him or her a smile, or even reconstructing a body part. There wasn't anything he couldn't do. That had always been the belief surgically anyway.

Regarding his personal life, he was always a disaster waiting to happen, and always managed to find trouble even when he wasn't looking for it. He didn't know if he had bad luck, bad karma or what. He couldn't catch a break; from the time he'd been in his mother's womb until the present.

Armaan consistently made bad choices ' some of them conscious, some of them not.

The only people who ever took him seriously were his patients and other members of the medical community and for good reason. He was one of the best in his field; although to him, he was the best. In his mind, Armaan felt he had no choice but to be the best in order to make up for everything he lacked in his personal life. It was what made him feel good. Not even all the illicit sex he was always having felt that good. Physically, it was satisfying but it never filled him up, and after each brief affair he'd always felt emptier.

He forced himself out of his negative state to appreciate his surroundings as he windsurfed across the turquoise water, realizing he had minimal control of life, as it seemed to have a mind of its own. Armaan decided to literally throw caution to the wind and allow it to take him where it may.

Twenty-four year old Shilpa Malhotra had never been away from home, alone, until now. She'd lived an extravagant yet sheltered life and despite her father's hesitance that she not travel alone, he'd relented and given her the trip as a gift.

Shilpa lived in Saint-Alexandre, a wealthy island country South of Mumbai surrounded by the Sea. It wasn't a large country; however, it was filled with much history and culture, both of which she would soon become an even bigger part of.

Now, as she walked along the exclusively private beach in one of the most beautiful places in the world, she thought about her life and what an illusion it was. Looking from the outside in, her life was perfect, but, through her eyes, it was anything but.

People always surrounded her; yet, she was incredibly lonely, never mind being engaged to one of the most prominent men in the world. Any woman would kill to marry him, and if she were being honest, she'd be more than happy to let them, but this was what her father wanted ' and she always did what he wanted while her mother stood by saying and doing virtually nothing.

Her cell phone rang and she answered, "Hello."

"Hello, sweetheart. How are you?"

"Hi," she replied, recognizing her father, Shashank's voice immediately. "I'm fine. I'm walking along the beach. It's a beautiful day."

"Are you feeling better about your marriage to Adi?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Good! I'm so pleased to hear that."

Shilpa glanced at the ridiculously oversized diamond she wore on her left ring finger through blurry eyes.

"I just wanted to check on you," Shashank told her. "I'll let you enjoy your beautiful day."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said. "I'll speak to you soon. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Shilpa ended the call and immediately returned to her villa. When she arrived there, she removed the hideous ring from her finger and shoved it into her jewelry box. No one knew her here, so it's not as if anyone would notice the ring wasn't on her finger. Afterward, she returned to the beach and sat down on one of the lounges with a book, a smutty nonsensical book ' the type of book that always managed to distract her from her own life.

The women in the books she read were always so smart like her, but unlike her, they were permitted to do whatever they wanted, including making their own decisions. They could choose their own clothing; work at any job; marry a man they truly loved; and just be ' like she was attempting to do now. Everything about her life had absolutely nothing to do with her. It made her incredibly sad but as she lifted her head to gaze at the panoramic beauty before her, she wondered how she could be thinking negative thoughts at all.

And then she saw it ' one of those windsurfing things she'd come to learn about in the few days she'd been on this particular private island within the archipelago of islands. It was coming towards her. Obviously there was someone on it. Should she stay or should she go?

"Why should I go?" She murmured. "This is my part of the beach."

She swallowed nervously as the sail drew nearer and nearer until it was finally to shore in the company of a man, a very large man. Maybe she should run or maybe'

"Hi!" The man spoke as he approached, swallowing up her scenic view the closer he got.

"Hi," she softly replied, having never been in a situation such as this. "Are you lost?"

"No," he replied, a little annoyed by the fact that in throwing caution to the wind, he'd still managed to end up on the presence of not only a woman but also an exquisite woman.

"Well then, why are you here?" She inquired.

"The wind," he said. "I guess you could say it brought me here."

"Oh," she replied, watching as he removed his life jacket.

She was fairly certain that her entire body was flushed. Could he be Adonis in the flesh?

"I'm just going to walk it back," he told her. "The wind is obviously doing weird things today. I was lucky I ended up here rather than somewhere else lost at sea." He ran his hand down over his face. "The sun is so f**king strong here."

"Excuse me." Her eyes widened at his choice of word. "That word. Why do you use that word?"

"Which word?" He smirked, knowing exactly which word she was referring to.

"You know which word," she replied.

He was about to be reprimanded by a child. How cute. "Where are your parents?"

"My parents?" She asked. "Why are you inquiring about my parents?" She then added, "My parents aren't here. I'm vacationing alone."

"Aren't you a little young to be vacationing alone?" He asked. "And didn't anyone every teach you not to give out that kind of information to a stranger?"

"No, I am not too young to be vacationing alone, and I am not a child," she told him defensively. She chose to ignore the last part because no one had ever told her anything about strangers and why would they? She normally had an escort with her, so she was never forced to think about things like that.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"How old are you?" She replied.

"Old," he slightly smiled.

"You look it," she frowned.

He had to confess that he loved a girl with moxie. "Thank you," he simply stated unable to ignore the well-known Chanel C's on her black and white bathing suit. Interesting.

"You're welcome," she replied.

"Don't talk to any more strangers," he told her.

"Then stop talking to me," she said.

"What's your name, not a child?" He asked.

"Shilpa," she replied.

"Now you've given me your name," he said.

"You asked for it."

"Just because I asked didn't mean you had to give it to me."

"So you're saying I shouldn't have told you my name?" She asked.

"No," he replied. "I wanted to know your name."

"Then why are you being so difficult?"

"I'm being difficult?" He pointed towards himself.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Armaan."

"Armaan," she stated. "That's it?"

"Mmm hmm, just Armaan," he said.

"That's simple, isn't it?"

"Simple name for a simple guy," he shrugged.

"You just lectured me because I gave you my name, so why did you give me yours?"

"Unless you're packing a gun or some other weapon, I have no reason to be afraid of you. Are you packing?"

"No," she replied. "I hate violence."

"Glad to hear it," he said. "How do you feel about skin cancer?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

He leaned down and picked up her SPF 8 sunscreen and showed it to her. "Under this sun, wearing this is like wearing nothing. You should be using at least thirty, especially with your fair skin."

"I'm sorry. Did I ask for your advice?"

He smiled and said, "Occupational hazard."

"You're a dermatologist?" She asked.

"NO!" Armaan growled while frowning at the same time. "I'm a plastic surgeon."

"Oh," she said. "I have a friend who saw a plastic surgeon. She has these ridiculously enormous breasts now. They're hideous. So, why are you talking to me about skin cancer?"

"I've spent a good amount of time carving up women's faces to remove the cancer beneath the surface. It's not pretty, and it would be a real shame if that ended up happening to you."

"Meaning?" She asked.

"You're a beautiful girl, Shilpa," he told her. "A scalpel should never touch your face."

"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely audible.

"You're welcome," He said. "I should get going, but it was nice to meet you."

"It was nice to meet you too," she replied as he began to walk away but then said, "Wait!"

He stopped and turned back.

"If you don't mind, I'll walk with you," she told him. "I love the sun and have no plans to go inside anytime soon, so I think I should get a higher SPF now rather than later."

"Hurry up," he said, watching as she stood with her Chanel bathing suit and her Dior sunglasses before slipping on her Dior thong-style sandals. "Isn't there some law against mixing French designers?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "I had a friend who wore that stuff and insisted you couldn't mix one with the other."

"I do what I want," she told him.

He quietly laughed and said, "I bet you do. Can we go now?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'm ready."

The conversation was minimal as they made their way to the main area of the resort. Once there, they found the shop and entered.

"You don't have to come with me," Shilpa told him.

"I want to see if the Times came in," Armaan replied. "When I checked earlier this morning, it hadn't arrived yet."

"The Times?" She asked.

"New York Times," Armaan clarified. "It's the only newspaper I'll read."

"You're from New York?" She inquired.

"Born and raised in New York, but I live in Seattle now," he sighed. "I'm still trying to figure out why. Where are you from?"

"Asia," she told him, not wanting to give him a specific answer. It was rather pleasant speaking to someone who had no clue as to whom they were speaking to.

"Asia's a big place," Armaan commented as he walked over and grabbed a can of Coppertone waterproof forty-five spray for her but then he grabbed another before glancing at her. "You're not going to tell me where you live, are you?"

"I told you," she said. "I live in Asia."

He looked at her curiously and asked, "You haven't run away from home, have you?"

"What?" She laughed. "No! Why would you think that?"

"You're being so secretive," he said.

"No ' I'm not. I'm not being secretive."

"Don't tell me where you live," he replied.

"I live near Mumbai."

"Near Mumbai?"

"Yes," she said. "I was born there. I've lived near Mumbai my entire life."

"What kind of answer is near Mumbai, and why no accent?"

How was she supposed to tell him that both her nanny and maid were Indian? She elected to ignore the first part of the question and hope he'd forget he asked about where she lived in the first place.

"I ' have a lot of Indian friends." She decided to say.

"Mmm," he said, looking at her as if he didn't believe her. He also made a mental note that she didn't elaborate on specifically where she was from.

Oh well, she thought but then added, "Is that the sunscreen I should buy?"

"Yes," he replied as he made his way over to the sparse selection of books.

"May I have it so I can go?" She asked, wanting to get out of there.

"Just ' a second," he said, scanning the books.

No one ever told her to wait. Armaan grabbed a copy of The Last Lecture before walking over to the fridge to get two bottles of water while she followed, and she never followed, so why was she following him?

When they arrived at the register, Armaan set down the five items and said, "Bill this to my room please. The last name is Mallik."

Shilpa made a quick mental note of that but then told him, "I can pay for the sunscreen."

"Don't worry about it," Armaan replied as he signed the slip. "I'll take one of the waters. The rest is for her."

"I didn't want a book," she told him. "I have books to read."

The man placed the bottle of water in one bag and the sunscreen and book in a separate bag before giving it to her. She and Armaan walked outside.

"I saw what you were reading," he informed her. "This is a great book. It's a true story. It'll make you feel something."

She supposed it would be highly inappropriate if she told him that her smutty book made her feel something too, so she refrained and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied. "Can you find your way back?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll see you around," he told her.

"Okay," she replied. "Goodbye."

"Bye," he said as she turned and began walking back to her villa while he did the same.

Once she arrived back at her villa, she returned to her lounge and sprayed her new sunscreen all over herself. Deciding to lay on her stomach, she got comfortable before lifting her laptop from beneath the lounge and setting it in front of her. Shilpa opened it and then typed in the web address to her online journal. She typed'

Today was the best day of my life. I met a man who knew nothing of my family or my life; yet, he was nice to me. He didn't want or need anything from me. Why can't everyone be like him? I wish it could always be like that.

end part 1

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Part 2

The following morning, Armaan was famished. He was also exhausted; having forced himself to get up while it was still morning, despite the eleven-hour time difference and a serious case of jet lag. He made his way to the breakfast buffet that was being served on a large patio type setting, which overlooked the ocean. It really was so unbelievably breathtaking. Armaan scanned the dining area, noting there weren't that many people there; of course, this particular resort permitted a total of only forty guests at a time … one of the main reasons he'd chosen it. With less people; therefore less women, there was less chance of him getting into trouble.

Speaking of trouble, he spotted Shilpa from Near Mumbai sitting at a table for two at the outer edge of the patio overlooking the water. Should he or shouldn't he? He shouldn't, which was exactly why he was going to; he walked over to her table.

"Good morning," he said.

There it was again, she thought. That voice, which belonged to the man who'd been so pleasant to her minus a few small close calls.

"Good morning," she replied. "Would you care to join me?"

Spared, he thought. She asked. Score one for him.

"I'd love to," he smiled and sat down.

"Was that sarcasm I detected in your voice?" She replied, wondering if he just rolled out of bed looking this way, or had he showered? He obviously didn't shave because the whiskers were still there, all neatly in place.

"Sarcasm? Me?" He scoffed. "I'm never sarcastic."

"Right," she said.

"What can I say? It comes naturally."

"Charming," she replied.

"Is that all you're eating?" He asked, noting the rather large bowl of fresh fruit that she was picking at.

"I love fruit," she told him, "and the fruit here is delicious."

"I'm almost convinced that you wouldn't have made it off this island alive if I hadn't shown up," he casually commented as he picked up her flute of champagne and sipped it.

"Ah, excuse me," she said, gesturing towards her flute.

He just smirked at her as he set it back down.

"You're insane," she told him, "and I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"You would have been a prime candidate for skin cancer while your brain was turning to mush reading that shit that you were so engrossed in," he explained. "And you've obviously got it in your head that you'll survive in this heat eating tropical fruit and guzzling alcohol."

"I'm not guzzling alcohol," she frowned. "I don't guzzle anything."

"You could put some orange juice in it," he suggested. "You're going to pass out on the beach and force me to revive you."

"You're assuming you'll be on the beach with me," she replied.

"I'm not assuming anything," he said, "but I'm not sure I could leave you unattended in good conscience knowing what I know."

"And what exactly do you know?" She asked, somewhat amused.

"I know you're going to pass out if you don't eat some food with actual substance," he informed her.

"You're one of those controlling-type people, aren't you?" She asked.

"I'm not controlling," he insisted.

"Then you like telling people what to do," she said.

"No, just you," he smiled.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked.

"Nothing's wrong with me," he replied, "but it would be a damn shame if you had to return to Near Mumbai before the end of your holiday."

"Why would I have to do that?" She sipped her champagne.

"You would have to do that because you're going to die from skin cancer, dehydration, and starvation," he smiled.

"You're an evil man," she told him.

He simply shrugged.

"I don't think I like you," she said.

"I'm devastated," he dryly spoke.

"You should be," she replied, wondering why she was all of a sudden becoming so bold with him. She was sure to get herself into trouble if she continued this way.

It was then that the server arrived with Armaan's food, and Shilpa watched as he set down a plate of eggs as well as a basket of freshly baked croissants and other pastry, in addition to a plate of sliced mango, small bananas, and some coconut.

Once the server left, Shilpa said, "Okay. When did you order? I've been sitting here the entire time you've been sitting here."

"I ordered on my way in," he told her. "I knew they'd find me. There's no one here."

"Are you planning to eat all of that?"

"Jealous?" He asked.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Why would I be jealous?"

"Because you're hungry," he said.

"I'm not hungry," she insisted.

"I have to tell you that you look a little hungry, Shilpa from Near Mumbai," he smirked as he broke off the end of a croissant and ate it.

"Stop calling me that," she mildly snapped.

"Ask nicely," he told her as the server returned with a cup of black coffee. "Thank you." The man nodded and left.

"I will not ask nicely," she frowned.

"I figured you might say that," he said. "I'll stop calling you that when you tell me where you're from."

"It's none of your business," she told him.

"Are you a fugitive?" He asked, a completely serious look on his face.

Shilpa laughed because that had to be the most preposterous thing she'd ever heard. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm not serious?" He replied.

"How would I know?" She shrugged. "I don't know you."

"You've got that right," he said.

"I didn't come here to make friends," she informed him.

"Oh, well now I am devastated." He ate a piece of coconut. "But for the record, I didn't come here to play nice either."

"Why are you here then? Why did you come so far?" She asked.

"My pager won't work here," he told her. "I needed to go somewhere far enough away that no one could reach me."

"You're running from something then?" She surmised.

"I'm not running from anything," he insisted. "I just needed to get away from the joke that is my life."

"What does that mean exactly?" She was curious.

"Why should I answer your questions when you won't answer mine?" He asked.

"Because it doesn't matter." She shrugged. "Because as they say in Las Vegas, what happens in the Seychelles stays in the Seychelles."

"Yet, you're not giving up anything," he pointed out.

She glanced out at the water and replied, "It's complicated."

"I guess that's the end of the conversation then," he said.

"Why?" She quickly asked, rather enjoying their conversation. As stressful as it was concealing her true identity, she liked Dr. Armaan Mallik. He said whatever he wanted to say and did whatever he wanted to do. He didn't care what she thought. She'd love to be able to do that. "Why does that have to be the end of the conversation?"

"Why do you care?"

She cared because she was lonely and had no friends. Anyone that came into contact with her always wanted something and that included Adi. The friend who'd gotten her breasts augmented wasn't her friend at all. She was Adi's ex-girlfriend. "I don't care," she quietly stated. I'm not allowed to care about anyone or anything unless I'm given permission.

What the Hell was up with this girl? Armaan wondered as he continued to eat his breakfast while she looked to be on the verge of tears. Nevermind her, what the Hell was up with him? Since when did he talk to women? He didn't talk to women. He f**ked them and moved on. They were forgotten before the door slammed shut behind him. He elected to stop thinking so hard about it and tried a different tact because he didn't want her to cry … but then he saw a single tear slip down her cheek as she stared out at the ocean.

"How about we drop the personal conversation?" He suggested. "I'm not accustomed to making women cry, but I do need the answer to one question."

She took a sip of her Cristal and then looked at him in anticipation of whatever question he was about to pose to her.

"I need to know if you're … jailbait," he said.

"If I'm what?" She asked.

"Jailbait," he told her. "I need to know how old you are."

"I'm twenty-four," she replied.

"Twenty-four," he repeated.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Was I unclear?"

"No," he quietly laughed.

"Why is that funny?" She wanted to know.

"It's not funny," he sighed. "It's just … I don't even know."

"How old are you?" She asked, thinking it was only fair that she be able to ask as well.

"Let's just say I'm a year or two shy of completing my fourth decade," he told her.

"That would make you thirty-eight or thirty-nine," she smiled.

"Clearly, you're a math genius," he deadpanned, causing her to laugh a little.

"I am a mathematical genius," she proudly replied. "Math and science were my favorite subjects in school."

"Mine, too," he said. "Knowing I wanted to become a surgeon, they had to be."

"What's it like being a surgeon?" She asked.

"What's it like being a surgeon?" He thought about that for a moment and then said, "It's like nothing else in the world. You have to be arrogant and narcissistic and believe that you are God-like in the sense that you could have someone's life completely in your hands at any given time. You have to believe that you can do anything. When things go well, it's the most rewarding feeling in the world, but when they don't, it's devastating. You never get used to seeing death happen in front of you."

"That must be awful," she said.

"It is, but you move on from it with the hope that you'll be able to save the next life," he told her as he glanced out at the sparkling water. "I have an idea." The shovel was always out so why not start digging, he thought.

"What?" She asked.

"How do you feel about jet-skiing?" He replied.

"I've never done it," she told him.

"Well, I have, and I'm really good at it, so why don't you finish your breakfast and I'll take you out for a ride?" He offered.

She was obviously considering it.

"Or," he added, "You can tell me where you're from."

Shilpa gazed at him and said, "I'd love to go jet-skiing with you."

"That's what I thought," he told her.

They finished their breakfast and then headed down to the marina.

end part 2

Originally posted by: imshveta

Nice Concept. Very Interesting indeed

Please PM me this one too. But just promise that you will update either one or both the ffs atleast everyday.

Shveta

hi

nice story but don't you think you have made armaan a bit old,

anyway plz continue soon.