Posted:
I have been meaning to write a scene for a little while and the promo inspired me. Please let me know what you thought if you read it. I am not fishing for compliments, just want to know yours thoughts while reading the scene. I used to write a lot for IPK. If you are interested in those, you can search "MB's Spicy Fanfics."
Saras watched mesmerized as the wind blew softy against Kumud's hair and made her charms chime musically with each sway. She reminded him so much of his mother's sweet chime. How beautiful Kumud was. He had barely had fleeting glimpses of her, but from what little he saw, he could gather a picture of an ingenue. The thought made him smile. She was far from helpless. If anything, she made him feel helpless which each sash of her razor sharp words since that stupidly penned letter - by yours truly, of course.
Coward.
Unworthy of hospitality.
Selfish!
How little she thought of him. She didn't even think he was worthy of a look from her, much less worthy of getting a look at her face and actually having a conversation face to face.
He watched from behind her as she put each sparkling dupatta on the string. Her small back arching against to reach the high up rope tie. God, she was beautiful.
So proud, so poised in everything she did. Head always held high. He had not seen such dignified pride in the finest drawing rooms of Dubai's elite. She fleeted around in red orange today, tugging at his heart strings.
What was it about her that had such a hold of his heart in a vise? He struggled to take a deep breath.
"What are you doing here? Leave."
Her cutting words jolted him out of his reverie. She had found him out and was now on the other side of the white shirt she was just clipping to the string. Hiding her face again, Saras thought angrily.
Saras: Don't you think you have played this game long enough?
He saw the shadow of her face look away from behind the shirt.
Kumud: I want to be alone. This is my private space.
Saras stomped up and tugged at the shirt, but stopped short as those beautiful, vulnerable eyes seared into his heart.
Kumud slowly: You have no right.
Saras: Perhaps. But you have no right to lash out at me either.
Kumud tugged the shirt back and walked away, giving her back to him again.
Kumud: Oh? Only you have the right to insult, is it?
Saras: When did I...
Kumud accusingly: You called me a burden! Me! I know how to stand on my own two feet. Who do you think you are!? Just because you have money you think you are better than everyone?
Saras, astonished: What...(but he stopped short as his letter's words came back to stab him).
Saras: Dekho, I am sorry. That is not what I meant. I am afraid you misunderstood my letter.
Kumud: I might be a village girl to you, but I have never been a burden to anyone. Nor will I ever be. (To his horror, he thought he saw a tear slip from her cheek). And you certainly have a high opinion of yourself if you think that after such an insult, I will ever "burden" you with my presence.
She walked off, glittering and twinkling in her dupatta and jewels. Again. Before he could explain, before he could ascertain if he had again...imagined her. Nowadays, it was difficult separating the real Kumud from the ones who visited him in his dreams.
Saras sighed as that increasingly familiar hollow found its way back into his chest. That was the confirmation. This was real. This is how their conversations always ended in his waking hours - with him making an idiot of himself without even trying very hard.
Looking forward to your responses.
Mary.
Saras watched mesmerized as the wind blew softy against Kumud's hair and made her charms chime musically with each sway. She reminded him so much of his mother's sweet chime. How beautiful Kumud was. He had barely had fleeting glimpses of her, but from what little he saw, he could gather a picture of an ingenue. The thought made him smile. She was far from helpless. If anything, she made him feel helpless which each sash of her razor sharp words since that stupidly penned letter - by yours truly, of course.
Coward.
Unworthy of hospitality.
Selfish!
How little she thought of him. She didn't even think he was worthy of a look from her, much less worthy of getting a look at her face and actually having a conversation face to face.
He watched from behind her as she put each sparkling dupatta on the string. Her small back arching against to reach the high up rope tie. God, she was beautiful.
So proud, so poised in everything she did. Head always held high. He had not seen such dignified pride in the finest drawing rooms of Dubai's elite. She fleeted around in red orange today, tugging at his heart strings.
What was it about her that had such a hold of his heart in a vise? He struggled to take a deep breath.
"What are you doing here? Leave."
Her cutting words jolted him out of his reverie. She had found him out and was now on the other side of the white shirt she was just clipping to the string. Hiding her face again, Saras thought angrily.
Saras: Don't you think you have played this game long enough?
He saw the shadow of her face look away from behind the shirt.
Kumud: I want to be alone. This is my private space.
Saras stomped up and tugged at the shirt, but stopped short as those beautiful, vulnerable eyes seared into his heart.
Kumud slowly: You have no right.
Saras: Perhaps. But you have no right to lash out at me either.
Kumud tugged the shirt back and walked away, giving her back to him again.
Kumud: Oh? Only you have the right to insult, is it?
Saras: When did I...
Kumud accusingly: You called me a burden! Me! I know how to stand on my own two feet. Who do you think you are!? Just because you have money you think you are better than everyone?
Saras, astonished: What...(but he stopped short as his letter's words came back to stab him).
Saras: Dekho, I am sorry. That is not what I meant. I am afraid you misunderstood my letter.
Kumud: I might be a village girl to you, but I have never been a burden to anyone. Nor will I ever be. (To his horror, he thought he saw a tear slip from her cheek). And you certainly have a high opinion of yourself if you think that after such an insult, I will ever "burden" you with my presence.
She walked off, glittering and twinkling in her dupatta and jewels. Again. Before he could explain, before he could ascertain if he had again...imagined her. Nowadays, it was difficult separating the real Kumud from the ones who visited him in his dreams.
Saras sighed as that increasingly familiar hollow found its way back into his chest. That was the confirmation. This was real. This is how their conversations always ended in his waking hours - with him making an idiot of himself without even trying very hard.
Looking forward to your responses.
Mary.
