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The wind blows past Armaan's hair, his eyes settled longingly on the door to the basketball court. "I'm wrong," he tells himself. "Riddhima must have refused the divorce papers from Sid."
He dribbles the basketball without much emotion, his eyes wandering the empty court where they first had met. "I should just leave now," he says sadly. "Shiyad woh kabhi nahin aye gi."
The basketball slips from his hands as he's about to turn, dribbling towards the door. With a frown, Armaan turns to the door. He stops as someone picks up the ball. His eyes meet the eyes that can intoxicate him within miles: those of the girl who always takes his breath away. Like the very first day, Riddhima tilts her head curiously at Armaan. He holds his breath, a rush of adrenaline racing up and down his muscular arms. She walks to him, her expression hinting nothing. His fists clench as she nears him, the whiff of her bitter sweet fragrance taunting his senses. Looking over his shoulder, Riddhima drops the basketball in the net. Armaan smiles at the familiar throw, glancing at the ball and then back at her.
"Tum yahan?" he asks softly.
"Agar khelna nahin aata, don't try to avoid the subject," Riddhima casually mocks. Armaan watches her in pure amusement: standing in the same yellow outfit he had first seen her in, Riddhima's eyes burn into his deeply. He heaves a sigh, the memories becoming intolerable to bear. Lowering his eyes silently, he walks towards the door."
"Haar gaye?" she suddenly calls. Armaan stops, his heartbeat nearly racing out of his chest at her words. He turns, picks up the ball, and drops it into the basketball net. Riddhima spins around to catch the ball. As she does, her hair spins around to hit Armaan's face. The "Asmani tune" plays as memories rush between the two. Riddhima slowly drops the ball at the memory, turning to Armaan with a quieter look. He stares yearningly at her.
"Jab bhi main tumse door jaana chahta hoon, tum saamne ajati ho," he whispers sadly.
"Tum kehte ho ki Armaan aur Riddhima ek doosre ke liye bane hain. Phir door kyun jao ge?" she whispers.
Armaan looks up into her eyes slowly, seeing them moist. She looks down at her hands, holding them up gently. Armaan looks down, suddenly seeing his family's bangle in her wrist. The world comes to a stop as he looks back at her in surprise.
"Riddhima sirf Armaan ke liye bani hai," she whispers softly. "Armaan ke bina, Riddhima adoori hai. Hamara pyar adoora hai, hamari kahaan adoori hai."
Armaan blinks through wet eyes, the urge to hold those hands seeping through his brain. Before he thinks any further, the same delicate hand brushes his cheek. His heart flips, his eyes drooping.
"Saya tera...mera ashiyan," Riddhima whispers softly. "Tu mera Armaan hai..."
Armaan smiles slowly as the song begins to play in the background, the wind whistling between their bodies. "I hate that I love you," Riddhima mutters.
Armaan laughs in tears. "And I love it when you hate me," he whispers.
In tears, she holds his shoulders, bringing his body against her. They meet, coming together from soul to mind, heart to body. Riddhima closes her eyes, finding peace at last in the security of his familiar arms.
"I love you, Basket," Armaan mutters. "I love you."
"I love you, Armaan," she whispers back, the words echoing in the court. "Tumhari Basket ko tumhara pyar phir se vappas le aya."
"And she became," he whispers with a smile. "Mrs. Riddhima Armaan Mallik."
She lets go of the hug, pouting as she holds his arms.
"That's Basket for you, Mr. Mallik," she mocks. With a laugh, she turns, picking up the basketball. Rain heaves down on the two of them as Armaan lets her make the shot, smiling widely as she jumps in joy.
"Bakset. Meri basket," his voice says.
"Armaan. Sirf mera Armaan," Riddhima's voice says.
He dribbles the basketball without much emotion, his eyes wandering the empty court where they first had met. "I should just leave now," he says sadly. "Shiyad woh kabhi nahin aye gi."
The basketball slips from his hands as he's about to turn, dribbling towards the door. With a frown, Armaan turns to the door. He stops as someone picks up the ball. His eyes meet the eyes that can intoxicate him within miles: those of the girl who always takes his breath away. Like the very first day, Riddhima tilts her head curiously at Armaan. He holds his breath, a rush of adrenaline racing up and down his muscular arms. She walks to him, her expression hinting nothing. His fists clench as she nears him, the whiff of her bitter sweet fragrance taunting his senses. Looking over his shoulder, Riddhima drops the basketball in the net. Armaan smiles at the familiar throw, glancing at the ball and then back at her.
"Tum yahan?" he asks softly.
"Agar khelna nahin aata, don't try to avoid the subject," Riddhima casually mocks. Armaan watches her in pure amusement: standing in the same yellow outfit he had first seen her in, Riddhima's eyes burn into his deeply. He heaves a sigh, the memories becoming intolerable to bear. Lowering his eyes silently, he walks towards the door."
"Haar gaye?" she suddenly calls. Armaan stops, his heartbeat nearly racing out of his chest at her words. He turns, picks up the ball, and drops it into the basketball net. Riddhima spins around to catch the ball. As she does, her hair spins around to hit Armaan's face. The "Asmani tune" plays as memories rush between the two. Riddhima slowly drops the ball at the memory, turning to Armaan with a quieter look. He stares yearningly at her.
"Jab bhi main tumse door jaana chahta hoon, tum saamne ajati ho," he whispers sadly.
"Tum kehte ho ki Armaan aur Riddhima ek doosre ke liye bane hain. Phir door kyun jao ge?" she whispers.
Armaan looks up into her eyes slowly, seeing them moist. She looks down at her hands, holding them up gently. Armaan looks down, suddenly seeing his family's bangle in her wrist. The world comes to a stop as he looks back at her in surprise.
"Riddhima sirf Armaan ke liye bani hai," she whispers softly. "Armaan ke bina, Riddhima adoori hai. Hamara pyar adoora hai, hamari kahaan adoori hai."
Armaan blinks through wet eyes, the urge to hold those hands seeping through his brain. Before he thinks any further, the same delicate hand brushes his cheek. His heart flips, his eyes drooping.
"Saya tera...mera ashiyan," Riddhima whispers softly. "Tu mera Armaan hai..."
Armaan smiles slowly as the song begins to play in the background, the wind whistling between their bodies. "I hate that I love you," Riddhima mutters.
Armaan laughs in tears. "And I love it when you hate me," he whispers.
In tears, she holds his shoulders, bringing his body against her. They meet, coming together from soul to mind, heart to body. Riddhima closes her eyes, finding peace at last in the security of his familiar arms.
"I love you, Basket," Armaan mutters. "I love you."
"I love you, Armaan," she whispers back, the words echoing in the court. "Tumhari Basket ko tumhara pyar phir se vappas le aya."
"And she became," he whispers with a smile. "Mrs. Riddhima Armaan Mallik."
She lets go of the hug, pouting as she holds his arms.
"That's Basket for you, Mr. Mallik," she mocks. With a laugh, she turns, picking up the basketball. Rain heaves down on the two of them as Armaan lets her make the shot, smiling widely as she jumps in joy.
"Bakset. Meri basket," his voice says.
"Armaan. Sirf mera Armaan," Riddhima's voice says.
Cricket
