A surprise update!!!
Mere Mummy-Papa ke anniversary ki khushi mein.
Though a little shorter than usual.
Don't forget to do inline comments.
Enjoy reading...
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Continues from the last chapter:-
Aryan woke up as the shrill piercing sound of the alarm clock reached his ears, breaking his peaceful slumber.
It was half past five in the morning and he didn't want to leave the bed just yet. The warmth beside him was too cozy and comforting, wanting him to succumb to the temptation.
And Imlie's hot breath fanning on his neck was tempting him to grab her closer and kiss her breathless.
Shaking the alluring thoughts away, he caressed her face and tucked the stray strands of her hair behind her ear. Deciding to let her sleep for some more time, he proceeded to untangle their tangled limbs and got out of the bed after placing a kiss on her forehead. And set up another alarm for an hour later.
Completing his morning routine that consisted of freshening up, jogging around for half an hour and another half an hour spent in the gym, Aryan entered the house and the silence that greeted him was a clear indication that Imlie was still asleep.
After grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, he moved towards their room to wake Imlie up. And found her snoring away softly, with a dreamy smile on her face.
Must be dreaming of something sweet, he thought and sat on the bed, beside her.
"Good morning." He greeted, running his thumb on her cheek gently, only to receive a hum of satisfaction from her, as she leaned into his touch.
"Imlie, wake up." He said, as she grabbed his hand and tucked it under her cheek and continued to dream on.
Rolling his eyes, he pulled away the quilt from her body. Imlie whined at the loss of warmth and pouted, not wanting to open her eyes.
"Come on, Imlie. You said you had early classes today. It's past seven already."
And the effect was instant. She sprang up from the bed and ran into the washroom in a jiffy, yelling a 'good morning' on her way.
Shaking his head at her antics, Aryan decided to take up the task of whisking up some breakfast and walked out of the room.
Forty minutes later, Aryan was done preparing some Poha, light and filling, then transferred it into a hotpot to keep it warm. And cleaned the little mess he had created while cooking, lest face Imlie's wrath for messing her kitchen.
(I had always imagined Aryan knowing the basic life skills. Hence, this.)
Exiting the kitchen, he found Imlie, standing in front of the small temple, with her hands joined and eyes closed.
A diya was lit in front of the deity and fresh flowers were offered.
He stood there admiring her as she muttered a small prayer. Dressed up in a white kurti, paired with black straight pants, her face devoid of any products, she was a sight to behold.
Imlie opened her eyes upon feeling his heated gaze and looked at him raising her brows. Aryan simply shook his head, moving towards her.
Imlie tip toed, wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed on his right cheek. "Good morning."
Securing his arms around her waist, Aryan placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Hmmm. Definitely a good morning."
Bashful at his choice of words, she stepped away from him and asked, "What were you doing in the kitchen?"
Aryan shrugged. "I prepared some breakfast for us. Poha, you like it." He replied.
A frown etched on her face.
"You didn't have to, Aryan. I would have prepared it."
Aryan sighed in disbelief.
"Imlie, you say that every time I cook for us. You are being stereotypical. This is our home, and all our responsibilities are to be shared. You have to understand this. Hmm?"
He repeated the words which he says every time when Imlie's thoughts backtrack the orthodox social conditioning of women.
Imlie nodded at his words.
"You go take a bath, meanwhile I'll make Chai for us." She gave him a bright smile and kissed his other cheek.
Nodding, Aryan turned around and walked to their room.
Imlie glanced at the idol of her Sita maiyya and joined her hands for a quick prayer. "Thank you for giving me the best husband, Sita maiyya."
....................
"Eeeepppp! What are you doing?" Imlie shrieked, looking at Aryan's reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes wide open in horror.
Startled by her sudden approach, the beard trimmer slipped from his hands.
"What the! Why are you yelling?" He asked picking up the device.
"Yeh tum kya kar rahe the?" She questioned back, snatching the trimmer from him.
"Last night you said that my beard pokes you, so I thought of shaving it away. Wanted to experiment with a clean shaven look." Aryan replied.
"Tum pagal ho gaye ho kya? I told you to trim it subtly, not shave completely."
"Oh come on, Imlie. I want to try something new. I'm sure the clean-shaven look will suit me." He said, stroking his bearded cheek and then tried to take the trimmer from her, which she had hidden behind her back. And strived hard to not laugh at her horror stricken expressions.
"Ekdam laal bandar ke jaise lagoge tum. Don't you dare shave it away." Imlie threatened.
"You look stunning with the stubble." She said, caressing his cheek with one hand while the other still clutched the trimmer tightly.
And Aryan broke into peals of laughter at her exaggeration.
Imlie pouted in annoyance, seeing him laugh at her expense, though it was beautiful to see his carefree laughter.
As his laughter toned down, Aryan snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
"Did you really think that I would shave it away? I was just fooling around. I would never remove it, for I know you love it."
He said, rubbing his cheek with hers.
"Dur hato tum." Imlie said pushing him away and took her wet towel from the rack, for which she had come to the washroom in the first place.
"And don't forget to put the clothes in the washing machine. It's your turn today. And keep the formals separate, Madhvi tai will be coming tomorrow." Imlie said, exiting the bathroom.
Madhvi Tai, their house help who would come once in every two days, for doing the laundry, brooming, and mopping.
Imlie and Aryan did the brooming and mopping of their bedroom, living room and kitchen daily, taking turns, for those were the most used rooms and the house-help cleaned the other rooms along with those, once in every two days.
But their bedroom was a complete no entry and Imlie had made sure to inform it to her. Because it was their peaceful abode and too private to let outsiders in.
The daily used clothes were put in the washing machine and their office and college wear were kept aside, for they required special attention.
"I know, Imlie. Why do you have to remind me every time, when it's my turn?" He asked behind her.
"Because you forget it every time." Imlie said, turning around, grinning cheekily at him.
....................
After a hearty breakfast, for which Aryan had received compliments from Imlie in the form of numerous kisses on his subtly trimmed bearded cheeks which Imlie loved, they were on the way to work. Aryan was to drop her to the college, then proceed to Bhaskar Times.
Soothing music filled the confines of their car, as they rode in harmonious silence.
"I'll be coming to the office around noon. I have only two classes for the day." Imlie informed him, breaking the silence, as they stopped at a red signal.
Aryan nodded in acknowledgement.
"Waise, Imlie I was thinking about something."
"Hmm. Kya?"
"Why don't we buy another car?"
"Kyun? Kis liye?"
"Tumhare liye."
"Humare liye?" Imlie asked him, astounded.
"Haan. You know it gets hectic for you to travel back to the office or home from your college by bus. So, I was thinking why don't we buy another car." He shrugged nonchalantly.
Aryan had no qualms with her using the public transport, for he himself had used the public transport for a very long time.
His father had made sure to instill this practice in him when he had started his 11th standard. He had travelled in the city buses throughout his entire college life and had started using the car only when he had joined the Rathore Group.
His situation was different though, he thought.
He would travel only from home to college and vice versa, but Imlie had an office too, which was in the opposite direction of that of her college and was almost a forty five minutes ride in the bus, sometimes more, thanks to Delhi's traffic.
When he was not at Bhaskar Times, Imlie had to take the city bus back home. And that would make her exhausted to the core.
While he had no problem in asking the driver for her assistance, Imlie had denied the proposal, stating about the burning of extra fuel.
Imlie's heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.
"Nahi, Aryan. Uski koi zaroorat nahi hai. I'm managing just fine. Moreover, it's my last semester in college. Uske baad toh, it will be home to the office and office to home."
Aryan sighed. "And what about the days when I'm not at Bhaskar Times?"
Imlie got into thinking about it. Aryan had a point, but she didn't want them to do unnecessary expenses, when there were other convenient options available. And she didn't mind using public transport. Yes, the bus rides were tiring, but she had no issues with it.
She was about to say something, but Aryan bet her.
"How about a Scooter then?" He suggested. If not a car, then a two-wheeler would work too.
Her eyes immediately twinkled at the prospect. She had always wanted to own one. Her Dadda had taught her to ride a scooter when one of the Zamindars had purchased it. She had thrown tantrums about learning to ride it and Satyakam had requested the man to lend it to him for a few days, for his daughter.
She also had once expressed her desire to buy one on her own in the future, to Aditya, during one of their conversations, but he had carelessly dismissed her wish, stating that she didn't need it when he was there for her aid. But she had frowned upon that idea then, thinking about her dependency on him.
She had momentarily forgotten about it, but the wish had always stayed in one of the corners of her heart.
And now when Aryan broached the subject, she was excited.
"I always wanted to have one." Imlie smiled, a bright smile that reached her twinkling eyes.
"So, a Scooter it is then."
"I'll ask Shourya to get the catalogues of some of the best options." He said, referring to his secretary.
Imlie's heart soared with exhilaration, but the thought of the finances plagued her mind.
While she didn't mind, Aryan purchased the vehicle for her, for he was her husband and had the liberty to do so and she had learnt to accept the affection, emotional as well as materialistic, it was always her dream to buy one with her own earnings.
"Okay. And the funds-" Imlie started, but Aryan cut her in the middle.
"Of course, you are going to pay half of the amount, Imlie. You didn't think I would make the complete payment, did you? We are 50-50 partners and that applies in all aspects." Aryan stated.
Of course he knew about her dream of owning a scooter. He had learnt about it from Satyakam during their recent call, as they were engaged in a conversation about Imlie's teenage days.
From then he had it in his mind to broach this topic and could finally do it.
Imlie smiled, teary eyed at his way of supporting her dream.
"But how will I make such a big payment?" She was dispirited.
"EMI's of course. Probably a thousand per month, since you are still on stipend and then we can increase a little, once you start getting a specific salary." Aryan said.
Imlie let out a sigh.
"EMI, a thousand per month, really? It would take ages for me to complete the payment."
"Toh? You are going to be with me till the end. So how does the time duration matters?" He asked, as the car came to a halt in front of her college.
"You're right." Imlie agreed and proceeded to take off her seat belt.
"I'm always." Aryan said in mock arrogance.
Typical Aryan Singh Rathore, she thought, chuckling at his haughtiness.
My Aryan, her heart whispered.
Imlie turned to unlock the door but stopped in the middle as a thought crossed her mind.
"Aryan?"
As Aryan turned to look at her, Imlie leaned forward and tenderly pecked his lips, catching him off-guard.
He came out of the stupor when he heard her knock on the half open window, already out of the car.
"Have a good day, Aryan." Imlie waved at him exuberantly.
Aryan looked on as she walked towards the gate with a spring in her steps, with a contagious smile on her lips, which brought an involuntary smile on his face.
Man mast magan, man mast magan
Bas tera naam dohraaye...
Man mast magan, man mast magan
Tera naam dohraaye..
Chaahe bhi toh bhool na paaye
Man mast magan, man mast magan
Bas tera naam dohraaye...
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Homely and domestic AryLie, my favourite trope.
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