MISUNDERSTOOD - an Arylie Story

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Aditya Kumar Tripathi, now rested his head on the garden bench, fully under the influence of alcohol—his only kind 'solace'.

He had lost today—truly lost everything.

That too against him— Aryan. Singh. Rathore.

He had lost his Imlie. Due to that man.

He had lost his job. Due to that man.

He hated his pregnant wife. Because her truth had been exposed by that man.

He truly felt there was nothing more to lose.

The only thing he had taken pride in was his journalism—and even that seemed to be snatched away. By that MAN!

He did not want to make amends now, but yes, he wanted to spit out his vengeance at that ARYAN SINGH RATHORE—who, one day, just dared to suddenly walk into his life and ruin everything —by taking what belonged to him!

He stood up to walk...but he fumbled and fell on the road. "Nnnot today, Arrryan Singh Rathorre!"

He struggled and struggled but suddenly stood up with the support of the bench.

After walking for a couple of minutes, while trying to balance himself, he finally reached the Bhaskar Times parking lot.

He wanted to try to 'damage' something. To take something precious away of that man from him.

He came closer to what seemed like his car. That stupid car with the 'A'.

Such a show-off, flaunting that about.

He dragged his steps and slowly walked closer before he came to a halt.

There he stood— in front of him, strong and refined as a lion, in all his true senses.

He did have an aura about him, which Aditya had to regrettably admit, where he commanded all the attention to himself.

Aditya was now locked in a sort of dual eye-lock with the man ahead.

He cleared his throat once and spoke now, in a very mocking but firm voice:

"Looking at your state, coming here with the audacity you have, after everything you have done —I should feel anger..."

Aditya opened his mouth to speak before Aryan raised a finger.

"I'm not done, Mr. Tripathi!"

Aditya shut up for once.

"But now, looking at you...all I feel is sorry! It's this state that you have brought upon yourself that has landed you here—-ready to...uh...fight me, I guess?
Is that what this new drama is?" Aryan smirked at that.

"Listen, Mr Tripathi, you are a grown man, and I do not need to lecture you about your life choices. I will leave that to you, however bad they may be. Have no hope you will get your job back at any rate, though."

Aditya came a step closer and spoke loudly, trying to establish control,

"You...you think I have come for that? You have taken EVERYTHING from me, Rathorrre...EVERYTHING!"

Aryan could not deal with this pathetic man any longer.

"Let me just say this once and for all then. When you had "everything", you took them for granted, you treated them as per your whims and fancies, everything was "conditional". "

"Now, when you finally realise that someone can show you the mirror and make you realise they were never yours to begin with, the insecurity seeps out, doesn't it?" Aryan questioned him with a straight stare.

Aditya simply took the support of the nearby lamppost to stand.

"I have no intention to argue with a man, who, for now, has no hold over his own life—and worst of all, who can do nothing except "blame" the other."

"I will tell you this Mr Tripathi—when I seen you from the window of my office, minutes ago, my hand almost reached out to the Commissioner's Office—who is a personal friend.
The job could have been done easily—with you arrested for "violating property","gross indecency"—but nah!
I look at you here, once more now, and all I feel is pity. Your state is your punishment enough."

Aditya again tried to speak but his speech came in slower circles—"You...you shuttt...shut up! You cccannot win!"

Aryan just shook his head at that.

"Go home, Mr. Tripathi. Spend time with your family and try to re-assess your life better within the space of your near and dear-ones."

Just then, a taxi had arrived near them.

The driver got out and helped Aditya—who, hesitant at first, finally got in. Aryan nodded at the driver and re-checked the address with him again.

He watched as the taxi left. He took in a heavy sigh.

His phone buzzed just then. Imlie.

"Where are you? Waiting for you for dinner. And yes, you are NOT allowed to ignore this message."

Aryan had a small smile on his face.
This woman.
Just then he realised something.

Was all this hate even worth it? When he could easily live his life with the woman he lov—-

Yes, LOVED! He couldn't deny it anymore. He was tired of hiding it.

He loved her. So very much.
He could do anything just to see her be with him.
Aryan Singh Rathore was in love. And that too with his Imlie.

Quietly, to himself, he reflected:

Then was this revenge really worth it?
Because today when he had said it, he really did mean it, let alone revenge—or anger—not even disgust—it was just PITY he felt for this guy —Aditya Kumar Tripathi—the very same man, whom he could only bring himself to despise, for years together.

Today, Aryan also did realise, that he did actually have everything.

And his jiju always wanted him to have just that. But he did not have him here to share it with.

If only he could go back in time...

He had a dull ache in his chest again, remembering his Jiju's smiling face with his sister—the memories they could've had if he were still here—the teasing—the family celebrations—the nephews or nieces—

"No, Aryan! Stop, right there!" The voice inside his head called out to him.

He scrunched his eyes shut while trying to suppress the pain away.

Right now, all he wanted was to reach home. To the woman he loved. She was his life now.

He quickly walked to his car, but not before typing an "on my way" to his dear wife— hiding a small smile of eagerness at meeting her soon.