• ADVIKA •

FOUR DAYS LATER…

I wondered whether God was a hopeless romantic and an extremely hopeless relationship virgin who had finally got into a relationship of his own, because I was already on cloud nine when I got up.

And, it wasn't a birthday excitement.

Since it was a Sunday, I woke up later than usual— five minutes to noon— when I noticed a sheet next to where I was tossing in the bed. It was empty from top, hence I twirled it and saw a flood of words in black.

Hey, bitch!

Are you still expecting some “You're such a sweetheart and a pookie. You're a diamond and I'll love you” and stuff?

No. Fucking. Way.

Because, you already know that you're a gem (and also flaunting it like an arrogant bitch). I don't know whether it was your luck to be mine or mine to be yours, but I believe that it all happened for a reason. The universe is finally universing, and who could be a classic example than your boyfriend?

To be honest, I was quite jealous that you got The Ishaan Ahuja as your boyfriend (could you please ask God to give Christian Harper as mine? Even his mail ID is more than enough, I'll take care of the rest). But then, I knew that you got it, because who's worth it if not you? The universe is telling, “You got it because you're special.” Listen to that carefully.

Guess what? Universe gifted you your book boyfriend as a gift for your birthday. So, you rather fucking take care of it and work accordingly, or else… (you know what I would say, but here we go!) I'll be forced to get a new daughter for your parents. This birthday, walk like a queen even when nobody's watching. Kill ‘em with kindness, bitch! (finally, a Selena reference, haha!)

With lots and lots of hopes to christen your babies,
Aarvi Khanna…

P.S.: Don't search for me at home. I'll be out for the entire day. Enjoy! (though I know you'll be all, “I won't be enjoying without you,” here we go!)

Though I was wholly impressed with her occasionally extraordinary writing skills, I found myself glaring at the postscript as though Aarvi could see me through the A4 sheet.

Proud with winning the battle against my infectious laziness, I got off the bed and strolled to the living room and saw nobody there.

Until I saw the heavenly figure stepping out the kitchen, adorned in a faded, white, low-neck vest, chameleon green shorts, and hot sweat, making this desperate birthday girl drool and swallow hard at my boyfriend with Ishaan's reply to my iconic “Let's take stuff slow” dialogue playing in the back of my mind.

“I know, it takes time to trust people. And, I'm not ready to force you. Let's take this one at a time. Baby steps. Okay?”

I wondered if six feet is how long baby steps are, as he caught me relishing the morning dose of hotness and shot a wide smile, coming close to me.

“Good morning, Mia Anima,” he greeted while making a mental note to tell him not to call me with the nickname as if to add fuel to the fire of my fiery feelings. I didn't want to be a slut who gets turned on within ten minutes of her day. “Happy Birthday!” He extended his hand for a handshake while I gripped and shook them.

Boys from real life need to know how to turn on a woman just by a handshake.

As we broke it, unfortunately, he walked to the couch and took a large paper bag that was resting on it. Giving them to me, he said, “Wear it. You'll love it.”

With bafflement adorning my face, I accepted the bag from him and went to my room. Sitting on my bed and placing the bag next to me, I saw that there was a cloth box and two shoe boxes. I took them out and opened the cloth box first.

Spreading the dress open, I found myself adoring a powder pink floral knee-length dress; a type of dress I never had in my lifetime and had bookmarked on Pinterest. I kept it aside and opened the first shoe box, seeing a pair of powder pink strappy heels with a Post-it inside. Taking them, I read out the message.

I'm not sure what kind of footwear you'd like, so I bought the heels and sneakers. Wear what you'd like. Save the other for later.

— I

Putting the pair of heels aside, I took the second shoe box. Not because of that I would wear them, but I wanted to know how they look.

A pair of powder pink sneakers along with a Post-it was inside it. Anticipating a new message, I read the message and was halfway through it when I realised it was the same message I had got from the heel box.

Closing the sneakers box, I unboxed the heels box and placed them with my dress, preparing to take a bath.

***

I knew that Ishaan had a great imagination and taste as I wore the dress and twirled in front of my mirror to see how airy my dress was.

After makeup and hairdressing, I walked to the main hall and saw Ishaan watching Brooklyn Nine Nine in a matching powder pink satin shirt tucked in with its sleeves folded up to his upper arm— flaunting his muscular biceps— and grey checkered pants. As his eyes fell on me walking to him, I could sense the world outside us blurring. His rainforest eyes, wide out of some abstract feeling, lured me into his ethereal forest.

“Wow!” His raspy tone alerted my ears and made the blurry world in HDR quality. “You look so…” He paused and looked around in a full circle, asking, “Where's the dictionary? I need to find a word to describe you.”

I chuckled out loud, covering my face with my hands in a bid to conceal the darkening shades of crimson adding to the blush powder. I took my hands away from my face when radioactive heat left my cheeks and replied, “Thank you so much for the dress.”

“Anything for you, Mia Anima.” He stepped an inch closer to me and tucked a lone strand of my hair behind my ear. He snaked to my ear and whispered, “How do you manage to steal my breath? All. The. Fucking. Time.”

“I learnt those skills from my boyfriend,” I whispered and turned to his face, tempting me to water his dry lips with my wet ones.

“Are you ready for it, baby?” I felt his hot breath hitting my face as he spoke. Lost in those thick canopies and greenery that resembled a pool of emerald in his eyes, I nodded a yes while he flaunted his teeth with a smile as he exclaimed, “Perfect! You wait here, and I'll set the table.”

Before I could alert myself, I felt his dry lips against my blush powder-covered cheek and him walking away from me. Even thirty seconds after his departure, the invisible mark of his lips rested on my cheek, making me blush darker than my baby pink blush powder.

***

“Where are we going, Ishaan?” I questioned in a whiny tone, us being around two kilometers away from my house. “Please tell me, Ishaan.”

Unlike an anticipatory, “You'll know it,” from him, he stopped riding the scooter and got down. “We're here,” he suggested, standing next to me while my eyes shot up at the board of the building we're at.

The Ahluwalia's Abode

I squinted my eyes, wondering if I was hallucinating, and looked at Ishaan, who was standing next to me with a smile on his face. I covered my O-shaped mouth with my hands despite the shortage of oxygen around me. Confused whether to laugh or cry, I looked at Ishaan again, trying to bring in words to my mouth.

“You wanted to come here for once, right? Here you go!” He swung his hands to the bookstore, his eyes trying to read my mind.

Making a mental note to thank him later, I ran into the bookstore with the anticipation of experiencing the visual treat I had been seeing on Reels and heard through word of mouth. With my heart drumming at the thought of being disappointed after knowing it wasn't worth the hype of Bookstagrammers like every other trending bookstores, my eyes went wide looking round the bookstore adorned with classic books of every genre and languages written by authors of every nationality, living to the proverb of, “Old is gold.”

I, like always, went up to the Fiction section, and looked up at the stacked-up books while my eyes found an old-looking copy of Pride And Prejudice. I took it and ran my hands through the faded golden words, feeling the touch of old leather in the tips of my fingers and closing my eyes at the overbearing goosebumps running through my skin. For that moment, the touch felt like life. It felt like making love to the soulmate: breath-taking, sensual, and complete.

Greedy for the touch of leather, I went on stacking books until I felt my hands weakening with the weight I was bearing. I placed the stack on the floor and knelt down to count the number of books.

It was four. Four fucking thick books.

Astounded by the count of books I was carrying, I made a mental note of adding “Physical strength” to the Strengths section of my CV.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, giving a deserving rest to my legs, gaining Ishaan's attention while reading the names of the books I had chosen.

Pride And Prejudice
Jane Eyre
To Kill A Mockingbird
Little Women

He knelt down, the stack of books acting as a wall between us, and asked, “Hey! What's up?”

“I had shortlisted four books. But, I don't know what to buy,” I explained my plight to him and plopped my arm against the stack of books.

“Oh!” He went into his world of thoughts and sat upright when he was out of it. “You take the first two that come to your mind and go to the billing counter.

I carried Jane Eyre and Little Women and walked towards the bill-in counter. Placing them on the counter, I looked back, only to witness a sight that triggered my eyeballs to pop out of their regular position.

There was Ishaan, carrying the remaining two books while involuntarily flexing his muscles in front of the hopeless girls from the realm of reality and walking to the billing counter.

If it wasn't me in my shoes, you would ask, “Why did you carry these?”

He would say, “You buy all of these. I'll pay them for you.”

You would look down, giggle as though you were talking with Ryan Reynolds, look up again and ask, “But, why?”

And, he would say, “Anything for you.”

And there you go, blushing all over without any control over your hormones and giving him a soft peck on his cheeks. The most unhesitant ones would give him one on the lips.

But, I knew it. The moment he asked me to carry two books, I knew he would be doing this. He was a man created in ink. A certified green forest (literally). It should be a surprise if he didn't do this.

I chuckled at the thought of my philosophy, unaware that Ishaan was already waiting for me to step out of my delusional zone.

Noticing my chuckle, he asked, “What happened?” while I replied with a nod suggesting, “Never mind.”

***

I was at the restaurant two streets away from my house, waiting for my boyfriend who was supposed to be returning from the toilet long ago. Glancing here and there over forty times, I tried to spot his head but to no avail. I sent ten missed calls and multiple texts asking for his whereabouts, only to land on deaf ears.

And, after fifteen minutes of perplexity, I could sense my eyebrows relaxing when I saw him from a crowd with a plate covered with a tureen.

He sat opposite me and placed the plate on the table, sighing, “Wait a minute,” and bent down to take something from his bag that had God-knows-what stuff. Sitting upright, he placed two Tupperware boxes next to the plate, pushed the three of them towards me, and suggested that I open them while pointing his chin towards the dishes.

As I sensed the smell of something delicious from the boxes and the plate, I lifted the tureen from the plate and looked at the dish that was reddish-brown with shades of pale white scattered here and there. It gleamed in golden under the sunlight from my right, just like those from the dining table of Disney movies.

“Chicken. Fucking. Breast!” I laughed and covered my mouth with my hands, not expecting a bit about having chicken breast as my lunch. I opened the boxes and propped my forehead against the table, trying to control my laughter at the sight of creamy white butter naan and saffron-shaded paneer tikka.

I looked up at Ishaan, who was looking at me with a lone star gleaming in his rainforest eyes, and a smile that could light up the whole city while raising his eyebrows up. Tearing a piece of the butter naan larger than my mouth and making it edible-level soggy in the paneer tikka, I gobbled it while mouthing an, “Thank you so much,” trying to grin wide and stuff my first piece of chicken breast into my overloaded mouth.

Extending a glass of water, Ishaan exclaimed, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Steady, Miss Overload. The breast belongs to a dead hen, hence it won't run off anywhere. You don't have to rush.”

Sending the butter naan and chicken breast down my oesophagus, I let out an airy laughter and assured, “Okay, I won't.”

***

FIVE HOURS LATER…

Ishaan and I spent the next three hours visiting Chandni Chowk and Qutub Minar while Aarvi substituted Ishaan later due to some “unexplainable” reasons. Using the privilege of being private with my best friend, Aarvi and I took pictures in all angles and filters with India Gate at the backdrop, adding more aesthetic to our pictures.

And, after ending up so tired, we decided to go home. The moment I opened the door, I saw a sight I never expected to see in my lifetime.

The living room had no lights on except one neon white bulb and Ishaan standing right below it with a screwdriver in his hand.

I looked back to see Aarvi, who shot a suggestive smile and pointed her chin towards inside. I put forward two steps towards Ishaan, allowing Aarvi to join us as well.

“Check. Check. Hello. One, two, three.” He tapped on the screwdriver's head, dealing it as a microphone, and continued with his speech. “Welcome, ladies! I warmly welcome you to my most smart, foot-sweeping, gorgeous lady's twenty-first birthday. It's me, hi, I'm Ishaan Ahuja: a fictional man who feels real after meeting this girl.” He swung his hand to me, emphasising “this girl”.

“Instead of making my beloved tired with my long, boring speeches, I would like the ladies to have their seats and enjoy my surprise. For Mia Anima.”

We sat on the couch, just as he directed at us, and looked again at him, who placed the screwdriver aside and slung his guitar like a bag.

“Tastes like strawberries on a summer evenin'
And it sounds just like a song
I want more berries and that summer feelin'
It's so wonderful and warm.

“Breathe me in, breathe me out
I don't know if I could ever go without
I'm just thinking out loud
I don't know if I could ever go without
Watermelon sugar high
Watermelon sugar high
Watermelon sugar high
Watermelon sugar high
Watermelon sugar.”

I was watching the performance with a wide smile and a levitating heart, telling my senses to believe the fact that Ishaan Ahuja, an Indo-Italian born and brought up in the metropolitan city of Milan, was singing my favourite English song.

For me.

On my birthday.

Yeah, his voice still sounded like those of Gian's. But, the way he carried the summer-like feeling in his voice and romance in his eyes could make any old-school, hopeless romantic girl’s heart melt finer than a butter on a high flame. That feeling in him made me forget how awful his voice was.

At the end of his rendition, I stood up from my place and walked to him with half an inch of space between us. I looked down, held his right hand, squeezed and whispered, “Thank you. This rendition… It's lovely. I… It was unexpected. Like… This was… I… Don't know what to say, but…” God, where did those vocabulary skills I gained from Netflix and books go? “I'm at a loss of words,” I whined and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Hey!” He chuckled and squeezed my hand, adding, “That's fine. I can see you. Guess what else I have for you?”

I looked up at him while he put his hands into his pants pocket and pointed a small piece of paper at me. I broke the contact and accepted the paper from him.

On occasion of the galaxy's best woman's birthday
Midnight Cinema of the cult-classic
Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara,
Starring Hrithik Roshan, Abhay Deol, Farhan Akhtar, and many more

Timings: 10: 00 PM
Venue: Our Living Room
Complimentary Snacks: Diamond Biscuit

RSVP,
Ishaan Ahuja

Instructions:
Enjoy.

I reread and laughed at the “Complimentary Snacks: Diamond Biscuit” thing and looked up at Ishaan, whose eyes shone out of happiness. The happiness of seeing others happy.

“Happy?” He asked while I nodded a yes. “Get ready for the movie.” Our eyes swayed away at Aarvi, who was witnessing our PDA without cringing at it like she always did. “Aarvi, join us as well.”

“Well, I wish, Ishaan. But, assignments…” She paused and shrugged, suggesting a no.

“Aarvi, please.” I faked a doe eye and had my lower lip protruded. But, it reached only deaf ears. I sighed, accepting my defeat, and replied, “Okay, fine. At least, have some dinner with us.”

“That's fine,” she rubbed the back of her neck and continued, “I'll take the dinner to my room and settle down. You guys enjoy it here.”

Ugh, this girl! I wondered how her potential husband would tackle this stubborn bitch. I mean, I knew that she was doing it to leave us in privacy. But, the thought of Aarvi missing the movie night made me feel like eating the meal without starters.

***

“So, do you watch romcoms?” I asked him after seeing him watching the “Are You Mad?” scene with imaginary hearts filling his eyes.

“Huh? Well, usually, I don't. Only in rare cases,” he replied, then looking at my face. I tilted my head as if to ask what were those “rare cases” while he added, “Like, the super-trending ones and the ones my acquaintances recommend.”

“Oh! Then, what are the genres you prefer?”

“Science fiction, dark comedies, thrillers, fantasy, you name it.” He shrugged as though it was obvious of him. “Do you prefer only romcoms?” Noticing my “Are you judging me?” frown, he added, “Of course, I'm not judging you. I asked.”

Giving a reassuring chuckle, I replied, “Not really. I mean, yes, I root for good rom coms. But, I also prefer watching movies and shows of other genres. But, if you ask, I love old movies. They're my sweethearts.”

“Anyway, who could hate old movies? They're the textbook definition of aesthetic, good plots, great songs, and iconic acting skills,” he countered as his gaze returned to the TV, where Kabir and Imraan were mastering the art of roasting Arjun as the “Mentally Challenged Buoy”. “I love the movie already. Imraan is such a pookie.”

“I know right! He's a vibe for a reason,” I replied with my eyes glued to the TV screen, pride filling my chest as if I was Zoya Akhtar.

***

AN HOUR LATER…

Though I knew what would happen next the moment Laila asked, “Can I borrow your bike?” to Nuria in Spanish, I felt immense pleasure when I saw her vrooming in the Royal Enfield bullet bike.

She went on and on and on, despite the seemingly humid weather in Spain, leaving her viewer scream, “Come on, Laila! You can do it.”

A few seconds later, you could see Laila spotting the blue convertible car with Arjun, Imraan, Kabir, and Natasha in it. Just when you believe Laila would go closer to it, the car vanishes from her sight.

Oh, shit.

Then, as a second chance of hope, Laila spots the car again and tries to speed up in order to overtake our Three Musketeers. But, she could never overtake them owing to the extremely long distance between the car and Laila. The most pessimistic first-time viewers would assume that they would never meet.

Until Imraan finds Laila's car in the rearview mirror.

“Come on, Imraan! Stop the fucking car!” I yelled in a tone contrasting the midnight silence, unable to suppress my excitement to see what happens next. “Stop it!” I yelled again in slo-mo as if I was in an airport, trying to stop my lover from flying across the globe.

And, just as I expected (it's not like I didn't know it, either), Imraan asked Kabir to park the car at the roadside, allowing Laila to reach the car.

Arjun, with a lot of perplexity, got out of the car. Laila parked the bike near the car and got off the bike, adding silence to the existential silence in my room. With that, I knew that it was the moment for Arjun and Laila to kiss each other.

“Come on. Come on. Come on. Kiss each other, guys! Come on! Just fucking kiss each other.”

Though it was me watching that movie for around infinity times, I would behave like I don't know what happens next.

The moment they kissed each other, I went like, “Yay,” pumped my fist in the air and clapped my hands with a grin as wide as elastic. I suddenly remembered the existence of Ishaan and looked at his side, believing that he would celebrate the kiss as well.

But then, there he was, dozing off with his eyes closed and leaning on the handle of the couch despite Arjun kissing back Laila.

Ignoring what was going on on the screen, my focus was on Ishaan, whose face resembles those of the waves that would hit us subtly at the beach. They, being the piece of attraction, left me in a dilemma of what to focus deeper into. His forehead, lips, closed eyes, wrinkle-free face… My goodness! If someone would ask what God was doing instead of replying to our pleas, I would say He must be busy creating masterpieces like Ishaan.

His forehead and my lips were in a forbidden romance while my eyes told my senses that his forehead deserved some touch of my lips. With the war against my rationale and my romantic urges, I succumbed to my romantic urges as I leaned closer to Ishaan's forehead. While we were less than half an inch away from each other, Ishaan's line echoed in my ears.

“I know, it takes time to trust people. And, I'm not ready to force you. Let's take this one at a time. Baby steps. Okay?”

“Fuck it.” I kicked out those echoing hesitation from my mind with a groan and consumed the remaining gap, thus decreasing the distance between us to zero and increasing my comfort of meeting his forehead with my lips to infinity. And, God! When people say nothing lasts forever, I want this to be my sweet nothing.

After being satisfied with the touch that felt like forever, I broke the contact and shifted my focus back to the TV when a sudden sound boomed through the silence.

“You could have kissed me when I was awake. Why so stealthy, Mia Anima?” Ishaan asked with no expectations in his tone, shifting his posture with his eyes remaining close.

“Oh!” I raised my eyebrows, trying not to be surprised by the fact that he wasn't asleep. “So, you weren't sleeping.”

“I did. But, you woke me up,” he countered with his left eye open.

“Anyways, wake up, man!” I shook his body fervently in an attempt to help him get rid of sleep physically and mentally. “Laila and Arjun kissed each other.”

“So did we.” He tossed to his left and pursed his lips like a man asleep.

“I mean, they kissed on the lips,” I emphasised on “the lips” and continued shaking him. “Wake up, Ishaan. Please!”

“Okay,” he sang and sat upright, further singing, “For you and those Mentally Challenged Buoys.”

Then followed a fit of laughter with Khaabon Ke Parindey delivering a romantic aura to the room.

***

Hey, peeps! On the occasion of my third Wattaversary on tomorrow, I have posted this chapter (though I planned for a double one). But, I have actually completed half of the next chapter. You guys might get the next chapter by next week.