Dil Jaanta Hai | ✔

thirty-three

||CHAPTER 33||
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Lounging on the beach chairs in a heavy ethnic-wear is more uncomfortable than wearing six inch heels- and I am saying this because I have experienced both. So I had resorted to leaning on my right arm which rested on the back rest, and sitting sideways, my head in my palm.

I was not crying. Surely I wasn't. No stream of wet tears drained down my eyes, my face was as dry as make-up could provide.

On the other hand, I felt like laughing on my pathetic life, like Aryan said he did. Hypothetically.

Out of the blue- and I don't mean the pool- a box of tissues was pushed infront of me. I looked up, and Vansh occupied the beach chair opposite me.

"Thanks, but I'm not-" sob, "-crying. I've caught cold."

"And then you'll say that something went into your eyes and your eyes would be sweating- oh, you're actually not crying."

Did he really think I was here to cry alone? Can't blame him, I did run off abruptly, thinking no one would notice that the bride's daughter wasn't present.

Oh, Armaan's irony was ringing in my ears.

"You want to go back in? The wedding just ended."

"No, not really. I don't know what to say to my mother. Can you believe it that I am actually more comfortable talking to her new husband than talking to her? And it's not like I share an admirable relationship with either of them!"

He pulled out a tissue, and sat back normally on the beach chair under the umbrella. Then he covered his face with the tissue paper, and started blowing it.

"What are you doing? Am I boring you?!" I asked, exasperated.

"Nahh," came out his reply from under the tissue paper. "This is kinda calming. Try it out."

I gave him a glare, not that he could see. His hand blindly found the tissue paper box and offered it to me. Oh his nerve!

But I guess it didn't hurt to try, right? So I pulled out one and immitated his steps with some difficult because of my clothes.

But boy, did he find me a relaxing thing to do.

"I feel like I am a kid doing this, blowing papers," I informed him.

"You are, Vika darling." I could hear the smugness in his voice.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

He chuckled. "Does your brother know that his new cousin was his sister's ex-boyfriend, who is still besotted by her?"

"Shut up."

"Aw Vika darling, aisa nahi bolte hai-" he burst out into laughter, and it was contagious. And so, momentarily forgetting about my dramatic oblivion, I slipped into consiousness.

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"Haan maa, wo mere saath hi hai- arrey! Aap baath tho aise kar rahi ho ki jaise Vika kabhi Mumbai me rahi hi nahi hai-"