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|Ogling at the beads of our secrets unveil, the stars of our togetherness were seen yet again coming closer|

by medicallymessedup

•present•

The late-night air hung heavy with the gravity of apprehension as my eyes grew moist, acknowledging the unjust and callous path I had walked with Aryan. At the first test of our marriage, my courage wavered, and I crumbled beneath the pressure, allowing my past to blind me when I should have stood strong.

Aryan had been the pillar of my support who never once aimed to hurt me; instead, he consistently saved me from the crushing thrust of myself and the world. How had I doubted the man who trusted me so besottedly? I was on the brink of leaving someone who tirelessly fought every hurdle to safeguard my hopes for true happiness. My ignorance of his diligent efforts haunted me, questioning how and why I had acted so foolishly.

Since the inception of our marriage, I had been harrowing towards him, while Aryan enveloped me in his shelter of truthfulness and loyalty. Even in this present moment, he stood unwavering, awaiting my belief in him with the patience of a sage. His intense, hopeful gaze pinned me down, preventing me from turning away, even when shame urged me to escape.

As I grappled with my own conscience, a mocking voice echoed within. 'You feel guilty for things you never did, for them who were not even worth your charity. How could you feel nothing for the man you claimed to be loving?'

My heart burned with the searing intensity of self-reproach, the relentless flames of my inner turmoil casting shadows on the landscape of my own strength.

"Why am I such a weakling?"

The ember of doubt glowed brighter, its heat seeping into every crevice of my consciousness.

"Trust me, Ruchi. You've just believed in whatever you saw and anyone there in that place would've done the same. Do not blame yourself, please." Aryan uttered, his words slicing through the formidable air as if he could discern the self-condemnation echoing within me. "It's all on me. I might've not given you enough reasons to trust me." His soft smile smothered me amidst the storm.

Why are you still so merciful, Aryan?

I wanted to ask him when Geetika's voice sliced through the chilly weather, "He's right, Ruchi." Her interruption carried a blend of tension and sincerity. "Aryan and I have nothing between us except genuine friendship based on mutual respect." She proclaimed, her tone resonating with a certain urgency.

Aryan's expression mirrored the surprise of her sudden appearance, his eyes searching for clues in her demeanor.

"I can't keep my mouth shut even after knowing that I might be the reason for any misunderstandings arising between him and you or his parents. I'm really sorry for any hurt you felt due to getting the wrong impression about me in his life, but the truth is, there's nothing between me and your husband. It had never been." She confessed. Her countenance which was a mix of regret and earnestness, sought a glimpse of understanding in mine, as if imploring me to comprehend the depth of her honesty. "Aryan has always belonged to one girl, and no matter what the world says, it's always going to be her until the very end, and that girl is none other than you." Her face seemed to validate the truth she had just said, marking the second instance in our acquaintance when she was reaching me out with such straightforwardness without any hint of malice or animosity.

I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to blink back the tears that clamored to escape, and then nodded in silent acknowledgment. Aryan's presence beside me felt both reassuring and uncertain. His scrutiny, mirroring a blend of skepticism and anticipation, held mine, waiting for the words that could either heal or deepen the wounds caused by the bitterness I descended upon him. "I trust you, Aryan." I enunciated, my lips faltering as I restrained a sob of remorse.

The glow of relief and happiness that radiated from Aryan's face was a profound reward, eclipsing every twinge of guilt that had gripped me. It felt like witnessing the sun break free from murky, somber clouds, casting its brilliance across the sky.

At that moment, I couldn't fully comprehend the reason for the pain I had inadvertently inflicted upon this guiding light that had consistently brightened my life, even through the darkest phases.

Overwhelmed by emotions, I surrendered to the urge I had been suppressing since the day I started feeling for him. I threw myself into his arms, succumbing to tears that flowed freely, reminiscent of a child desperately searching for a cherished teddy bear that she forgot beneath her bed.

"Forgive me!" My plea echoed in the quiet space, though it paled in comparison to the profound affection and forgiveness Aryan demonstrated, a stark contrast to my earlier rejection. The tears streamed down my cheeks as I pleaded, "Forgive me, please." I cried unabashedly with my emotions laid bare.

The fear of judgment, whether from Geetika or the world outside, became inconsequential as my entire being was consumed by the singular desire to earn forgiveness from the man I loved. The man who deserved not only my apology but also the unwavering trust that had eluded him when I had, regrettably, pushed him away.

His fingers, calloused yet gentle, weaved through the strands of my hair. His each movement felt like a caress, a soothing rhythm that clapt with the underlying elements between us. I held onto him, my hands finding solace around his torso, unwilling to release the anchor of comfort he provided.

"Forgiveness comes with a prize, Baby." His tone grew serious.

My plea escaped as a whimper, soft and desperate, against his neck. "I am going to do anything you say. I'm ready to beg you as long as you want but please just forgive me."

His chuckle danced in the crisp winter air, as he drawled, "Your punishment is a promise."

"A promise?" I asked, uncertainty doctoring my voice as I instinctively separated myself to face him. The flicker of emotions danced in his magnetic eyes as I questioned whether this was all he desired from me. His gaze held a enormity, creating a moment of suspense as I awaited his response.

"Yes." Aryan's voice softened, and his eyes bore into mine with a depth that seemed to unravel layers of sentiments. There was vulnerability, a plea for assurance, and an unyielding resolution. As he spoke those words, it was as if the freight of his heart was laid bare. "Promise me that you'll never leave me." He implored, his gaze seizing mine in a steady but searing grip. "No matter what happens, you'll talk to me, you'll fight me, demand answers from me, threaten me, or even sue me, but you won't be leaving me ever again."

My head bobbed up and down on it's own accord after his demand.

"I won't dare to leave you." I affirmed, my accedence a wholehearted murmur amidst the curling winds.

Aryan's touch on my chin was gentle yet firm, guiding me to meet his enamored gaze. His eyes bore into mine with a silent agreement passing between us. "You leave me ever again," He proffered, his tone entailing a cue of both warning and volatility, "and I'll be making sure that you pay for every second of it."

"Okay, I promise. You've all the right if I act stupidly in the future." I consented, my voice a soft whisper carried away by the winter breeze as with my word, we sealed the pact.

Long after, it seemed like my mind had finally found its bearings. Thus, I scanned the surroundings to spot Geetika, but she was nowhere in sight-perhaps long gone, or so I presumed. Aryan upon sensing my question, chimed in, "She's the one who brought me to this place three years ago. She's probably inside. Let's go."

We were about to step back inside when a sudden realization struck me like a lightning bolt, and I urgently pulled on Aryan's hand, halting our retreat.

"Aryan!" The volume in my tone matched the eagerness in my eyes, "Bau-ji mentioned something about you being on a shift that night. Are you working nearby in a company? Is it a part-time job? We still have our campus placement interviews and final exams pending, and I had no idea you were involved in any work besides our academics. Anyways, who else knows about your job?"

I eagerly awaited his response while he bit down on his tongue indicating that something slipped his mind. However, instead of answering me, he gently grasped my shoulders from behind and nudged me forward. When I pressed him again for an explanation, he told that he needed to retrieve something from the dhaba's kitchen for everyone, ensuring he'd catch up with me shortly.

"Make it quick!" I called back, the fancy of having him by my side prospering.

"Do not worry. You're never getting rid of me, Mrs. Mallik." He retorted provocatively, and I shot him a belittling glare. Was he already forgetting the tangibility of our promise? I couldn't resist reminding him that if he dared to break it, the tables could turn, and he might find himself in the same predicament.

"You wish! That's never gonna happen." He gloated, flashing a confident smile and waving me off as I finally stepped inside. A surge of frustration hit me. I should've given him a piece of my mind right there, maybe a metaphorical punch to that smug face of his. Perhaps, it would've knocked some humility into him. I'd already paid the price of leaving him once, with my father slamming shut the doors of his house on my face and my ex-almost-fiancé turning abusive when he detected I had no one to turn to. I refused to dig my own pit again.

I also came across an unfamiliar sight of Geetika Vohra blending seamlessly with the members of the Dhillon family. It was a harsh departure from the poised image she typically projected. Here, she sat on a modest cot, an unexpected deviation from her usual standards. She didn't appear like the bully she was in college nor the perfect queen bee that attracted attention. Geetika was really normal and down-to-earth like any of us.

As I kept observing them for some time, Beeji noticed my presence and warmly beckoned me to join them.

"Where had that young lad disappeared?" Bau-ji inquired about Aryan who was nowhere to be seen for a while.

"Why are you always behind that poor guy? Where can he go, huh?" Beeji intervened before I could reply, scolding Bau-ji with a trace of irritation. Their actions conveyed the affection they both had for Aryan and I couldn't help but feel warm witnessing the love Aryan was receiving from people who he wasn't even related to by blood.

"Aryan has something to do in the kitchen. He will be joining us soon." I let them on.

Gurpreet who was busy playing on his phone just then added, "Are Parjai, ab Veer Ji nahi aane wale. Ek baari wo rasoi vich ghus jande hain na toh phir kadi bhar ni aande."

["Sister-in-law, now brother is not going to come anytime soon. Once he enters the kitchen, none can get him out."]

"Why?" I inquired vaguely. Is he illegally devising some magic potion in there? He should've informed me in advance then maybe I could've stayed mentally and physically prepared for when we get caught for his crimes.

"Woh isliye Parjai kyuki Veer Ji aur unki rasoi ki mohabbat humari toh samjah ke bahar hai." Gurkirat commented. "Beeji ya Bau-ji ne hi samajh anda hain ye Veer Ji ka ajab sa ishq!"

["Sister-in-law, that's because his love for the kitchen is beyond our interpretation. Our grandparents can only make out sense out of the logic in his love story."]

Just then Aryan's boisterous voice rang out as he stepped inside, "You sycophant, get here please." He trailed off, "I'll just tell everyone about your English test from last week." He handed me over the huge tray in his hand containing bowls of desert for everyone and ran towards her school bag and her eyes widened in panic as she frantically protested, "No! No! No! Veerji! Not now! You promised me!" Beeji, startled from the information cast an eerie gaze at Gurpreet, who vehemently denied about having received her test back.

"Veer Ji, please don't tell them." She pleaded, turning to me for support, "Parjai, now you yourself stop Veer ji."

"Aryan!" I called out his name, and our eyes met. With a subtle shake of my head, I signaled him to withhold it for some other day. I do not want to see my chirpy sister-in-law getting scolded for something we all did in our childhood at one time. The corners of Aryan's mouth turned upwards, and he removed his hands from Gurpreet's bag. "Alright, alright, Gurpreet. Your secret's safe for now." He exhibited, sending a not-so-discreet wink in my direction.

Gurpreet heaved a sigh of relief before a teasing smirk pulled over her face. "Oh, my Veer Ji! We all get it now that you're your wife's obedient slave now onwards."

"Hey, it's not true!!" I protested half-heartedly, the flush creeping up my face betraying my embarrassment. Laughter echoed in the room, and Aryan settled beside me, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "Being a slave of my wife isn't that bad, Baby."

"Why are you so cheesy?" I couldn't help but ask, a giddy sneer tugging at the seam of my lips as I shot him a sidelong glance, anticipating his response.

Aryan chuckled, "Well, blame it on the influence of love as it turns even the most practical person into a hopeless romantic." He replied with a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words, "Alas! How will you know it? You haven't fallen in love yet, right?"

"It's my good luck. Isn't it?" I responded, a sly smile playing on my lips. "I saved my love for a narcissist, right?" I feigned larkiness that matched his.

Aryan who was caught in the act of fake glaring, unleashed a display of mock indignation with his eyes widened dramatically, he placed a hand over his heart, as if wounded by my grave accusation.

"The sweet dish is getting cold. Everyone, start eating." Bau-ji announced putting off our over-the-top goofy spell, reaching for his dish. However, Beeji swiftly intercepted, snatching it from his hands. "Did you forget about your sugar levels, Dhillon Ji?" She inquired, her glower concealing a clue of threat beneath the sweetness. "That was in the yesterday, wasn't it? Now I am absolutely fine." He attempted to sway his luck in vain as he quickly understood the futility of arguing with his hot-headed wife.

"Take this and stay happy, Bau-ji." Aryan unpredictably offered, presenting him with another bowl of the sweet dish placed at the corner on the tray. "Do not get worried, Beeji. I prepared it myself without any constituent of sugar. It's safe and healthy for him." He assured. Bau-ji, delighted by the extraordinary treat, happily dug in without any delay. "It's just you who care about me, puttar." He taunted Beeji, in response, who sneered at his childishness.

While the others delved into their meals, Beeji prompted as if she noticed something. "Two servings are less, Aryan. Did you forget it?" She pointed out, "Wait a second, I'll bring it for both of you."

"No Beeji. We both will take it ourselves. C'mon, Ruchi." He rose from his seat, motioning for me to tag along him. I didn't even stand up properly when he grasped my hand, leading me through the communal space towards the open kitchen designated for the dhaba. The lively atmosphere here had dissipated, leaving only the echo of recent hustle now replaced by a sheer quietness as the workers had evidently headed off for the day, leaving the kitchen's turf to me and him.

Aryan sifted through the utensils, however, my attention, gravitated towards a strangely familiar key ring hanging beside his removed overcoat. My fingers traced a small pendant-like leaf, triggering a fleeting recollection of a similar ornament belonging to me but I lost it somewhere during my childhood. Yet, I dismissed the probability; surely, such designs were not exclusive to a single individual.

Though my concentration wavered momentarily, I called out for Aryan who was doing God knows what with the utensils. He popped his head from the counter and then asked me to come closer. I did as he kept a platter on the counter with two bowls each filled with inviting gajar ka halwa. The velvety carrot pudding was elegantly garnished with a sprinkle of chopped nuts, a drizzle of ghee for added richness. adding a contrasting texture and earthy tones. It's sweet aroma making my mouth salivate.

"Wanna try eating?" He popped a question and I spared him an obvious stare. Who in their right mind will deny this heavenly treat? I picked up the spoon hurriedly and was about to dig in when a metal box nicely taking up the space on the counter caught my eyes with Aryan's name shining on it.

Setting the spoon aside, I couldn't resist myself from touching and opening the box out of fair wonder. I peeked at Aryan for his permission and he gave it to me gladly.

To my astonishment, the pandora box in my hand housed hundreds of knives and an array of speckless kitchen instruments.

Shocked, I glanced back at my husband, who seemed to relish my wide-eyed surprise.

"What's all this, Aryan?" I asked, stupefied.

"My world, Ruchi. This is my world." He responded with his eyes alight with passion. My mouth fell open as his words lingered in the air bowling me over, "Cooking is my world."

The bewilderment on my face escalated with each passing second.

"Do you cook, like professionally?" I besieged impetuously, my tone betraying the flutter and joy I experienced in my chest.

My Aryan was a cook.

Oh my!!

How didn't I figure it out before?

No wonder why he had such extravagant culinary skills.

My husband is a cook!!

Yayy!!

"I do. I cook for a living if that's what you're asking me." Aryan convicted calmly but it unsettled me as if he was misreading my speedy reaction. "Is imagining me in my occupation making you embarrassed?" What the hell was he assuming? "You are going to dislike me first and then leave me just because I'm not a businessman like my father or anything close like what you aspire to become?"

"Are you freaking drunk?" Fury poured out in my words. "You think so low of me?" He can't be serious. Is he? "You think that just because you're pursuing something you love and not following the conventional businessman path like your Dad did or I was going to do, you think I would leave you?" I shrieked in iniquity. "I need you to fuckin' get that stupid brain of your fixed if you think that, because I, won't let you go now, especially after knowing that you can cook for me for the rest of our lives. I'm not letting you out of my sight afraid that there are thousands of women out there like me praying every day for a man like you! I won't let you go because you're someone who's not scared to be himself even after being heir to a legacy. I won't leave you because I know I married a man who knows what it takes to be a real man." My index finger remained pointed at his chest, "But how does it fuckin' matter, right?" I stressed sarcastically, "Because my highness here thinks that cooking is something to be ashamed of!" I scoffed, attempting to channelize my anger.

"Ruchi-" His voice wavered in an odd helplessness as he opened his mouth guiltily to coax me again. His eyes, usually filled with a cheeky twinkle, now held a hint of uphill and uncertainty. His hands, which had moments ago confidently moved through the kitchen utensils, now rested nervously on the counter.

I, however, wasn't going to pacify this time without getting my own answers.

My eyes bore into his, "You are doing something that you love, something you want, something you're passionate about, Aryan. Still, why? Why are you so scared about your dream? Why did you hide it from the world?" I took a step closer, my fingers tracing the outline of the metal box containing his culinary tools. "Your family deserves to know. Don't you think so?"

The air in the kitchen intensified as our words suspended in the air. The mouthwatering aroma of gajar ka halwa on the counter laid barely touched between us. Aryan's shoulders, once squared with confidence were now slumped slightly, betraying the vulnerability beneath the façade.

He drew in a grating breath, a merger of frustration and surrender, and finally revealed, "I love cooking, Ruchi. But it has never been easy. Growing up in a family of successful business figures all around me, I always felt like an outlier. I feared that pursuing my passion would disappoint them, make them question my choices. I had never been an ideal child anyway." His gaze dropped, avoiding mine, as if afraid to see judgment in my eyes.

My heart stirred as I swiftly reached out to him, cupping his face to lift it, making him meet my conciliatory gaze. His skin which was usually warm under my touch, now had a subtle tension that mirrored the conflict within him.

"Aryan, your dream is nothing to be ashamed of. It's a part of who you are. You've amazing parents who wordlessly supported me on the understanding that you're wrong, no wonder they will support you when they get to know about their son's true interests and capabilities."

"You think my father-" He was visibly indecisive about this whole situation, a cloud of quandary shadowing his eyes.

The subjection in his voice sharply tugged at my heart. "You're precious to them, Aryan. You're their world." My thumb traced a soothing pattern on his cheek, an attempt to dispel the doubt etched on his face. "Every parent has expectations from their child, but there are rarely some who don't let those expectations become a burden. Uncle and Aunty will never shoulder that burden on you. Trust them for once. Please!"

Your parents are not selfish, nor are they manipulating or ignorant. They aren't vindictive or playing the martyr. Your parents, Aryan, are not toxic, not even close to the people who mistakenly gave birth to me.

My shoulders shook as the weight of reality yet again hit me in the gut. The tremors, a physical manifestation of the emotional storm brewing within me.

"Ruchi!" Aryan's voice descended in the air and washed away the convulsion of grief that had momentarily begun to consume me. His call becoming a lifeline in the midst of my cataclysm. "Thank you!" His words resonated with benevolence, creating ripples of our shuffling emotions. "I am a part of my parents. Thanks for reminding me before it was too late."

He closed the little distance between us and encircled me in a sedative embrace. His touch, a benign sonnet inscribed on the canvas of my soul.

"So, Masterchef Aryan, won't you give me the honors of tasting this masterpiece of yours?" I asked dramatically, twirling a strand of his hair as he wasn't ready to let go of me.

Aryan's laughter filled the air, a rich melody that pealed against every inch of my skin. "Ah, my eager little baby!" He wandered, "You'll surely have a taste of my magic." The room seemed to still as his hands, still carrying the warmth of mellowness, found their favorite place on my waist, pulling me closer than ever, as if it was even possible. "But first, let me hold my wife, Mrs. Mallik."

"I'll always be proud of you, Mr. Mallik. No matter who you become or what you do." I remarked, my sound reflecting pride, honesty and satisfaction to finally see him shedding off his worries.

He hummed in agreement and for me everything perfectly fell in place right then.

Aryan Mallik was my only encounter with perfection and he was always going to be the only perfection I'd ever desire.

Lots of Love,

ANKITA