Fifteen Years Ago.

Boldly, he took fierce steps towards the bedroom door. His hands fisted the door knob, it's dull gold bit his eyes with the carved lion's head on top. Clearing his throat, Aryan placed a knuckle firmly against the wood, knocking. Waiting. Breathing for a few minutes. Hoping that the door would be pulled open soon enough. Instead nothing but silence greeted him. Pure silence that could have drowned him with it's insane depths. He tried again. And again, and then lastly one more time. Sighing, he pressed his ears against the door — sounds of music came through. Perhaps, she was ignoring him. Perhaps. Despite all the rationale inside him, warning — alarming him to not step inside, he did just that.

As the door pulled apart like tender meat from a bone, the cold wind from the air conditioner smacked him in the middle of his forehead. A curling strand of hair he pushed back with his index finger. He turned on his heel finding the room empty, a stereo system underneath the window blasted a jazz song, curving shelves lead to an open dressing room inside the bedroom. Pink and gold tones — something out of a movie. His fingers brushed the table top next to the door, no dust instead tiny pieces of cut paper. Sketches — of faces half undone. Assignments strewn around, he narrowed his eyes. For someone that rivaled him ; she needed to work on her business skills.

A shrill scream from the left of him caught his attention. He choked on his on spit, muttering hundreds of apologies before running out of the room. Out of breath, Aryan placed his forehead against the door. Aryan's heartbeat was strong enough to crush his heart against the front of his hollow ribs. He groaned, feeling a swirl of redness appear on top of his pale cheeks. Smacking his forehead he ran down the stairs, too embarrassed to stay any longer. Too shy to face anyone.

"Oh! Aryan did you meet Myra? Where are you going? At least stay for dinner beta." Her mother stopped him in his way.

He groaned silently, his eyes looking anywhere but in hers. Wrapping an arm around the nape of his neck he scratched the back of it, twirling around the curls as he conjured up a plausible reply.

"He'll stay mama. He just left in a hurry. Come on Aryan, we need to talk." Myra's voice answered for him.

Dressed in a cropped white trousers now, and a loose fitting kurta, she looked like she had walked out a catalogue. Her smile reached the apples of her cheeks but behind it, Aryan could sense the open hostility. He cursed his luck — kahan phans gaya yaar! Aryan shook his head in haste, running up the stairs behind her. Myra's slender figure was like a shadowy silhouette under the somewhat sheer dress. Smacking an arm around his bicep, he fiddled on his feet, shuffling around the span of her bedroom — that now smelt very much of roses. White ones — or any other kind he scoffed, his senses done for. He was done for.

"Do you not have manners? Who barges into bedrooms— let alone a woman's bedroom like that?" She snapped.

"I — I am sorry! I didn't— didn't mean to!" He replied.

"Or were you? Trying to sneak a look at someone that you loathe?"

"Someone that I loathe? What the hell are you on Myra? Yeh kahan sai aagaya?" He frowned, raising his eyebrows, his lips dipped into a soft crescent.
[Where did this come from?]

"I mean isn't that a plausible cause? You hate my guts for challenging you everywhere we go. Be it university declarations or finals. I've one upped you a lot — of late. You're distracted so resorting to cheap ways is all that you have."

Bored, Myra rolled her eyes. Clicking her nails together she picked at the skin of her cuticles, pressing her loose papers into a large container all at once. His gaze was like burning coals on her back. It ran the span of her body, and she felt it. Tiny sparks and short flames burst across her neck, a bright red appeared on her neck. She flushed in embarrassment, biting her lip gently. Widening her eyes she stared at the culprit who had seen her — partially naked. Dressed in nothing but a toweled robe. Accusing him, Myra felt more guilty than she let on. However, she stuck to her words, perching her chin on her hands, sliding on top of her desk.

"Cat got your tongue?" Myra grinned.

"No—no it hasn't but I'm wondering how you could think so low of me." Aryan spoke, his voice soft, but held leagues of anger.

"I mean I think what the truth is."

"So you think to win from you, I'd steal your notes? I'd sneak a look at your chest whilst you're dressed scantily?"

Uttering each word, he stepped closer, his hands placed on either side of her body. His warm breath, minty, she blushed, hit her face. Myra clenched her legs tighter, feeling his fingers dance across her arm, rising slowly — adding pressure until they met at the crook of her neck. She felt hot. Her breath left her mouth in short gasps and pants. Myra lost all feelings, turning into mush and jelly. Her eyes, obsidian dropped to his lips — they looked ever more endearing. She reached out, her fingers laying flat across the burning skin of his cheeks. Disappointment her destiny as he pulled away, hurt flooding through his eyes.

"I could be many things you know Myra. Many. One thing I'm not is a cheap man. I'd never disrespect my mother's upbringing and my father's trust in me like that." He chuckled, the rims of his eyes a maddening red, "go over question number thirty seven again. And one last thing, I came over to apologize — nothing more. However it seems, we're even now. Though yours was more intentional than mine."

With a parting wave, Aryan left the room. Staring at the space where he once stood Myra rested a hand above her tormented heart. His closeness had affected her — more than she'd let on. She could still feel the warmth of his hand and fingers, Aryan's peppermint breath materialize against her lips. Sneaking a look at her hands, that were sweaty and clammy, staining her dress with the marks. Marks of a woman that had intentions— ill. Feeling empty, letting the grey dread swim in her bottomless stomach, Myra picked up her assignments. She had seen him working on them with her signature red pen. With bated breath she swept through the pages, his aristocratic writing all over them. Every single problem, notes and tiny inscriptions covered them. Hints and formulas — guiding her to a correct answer.

"Myra did Aryan leave? He didn't even meet me."

Her mother's voice buried her deep under the ground with guilt. Biting her tongue she looked up to meet her mother's eyes. The ones that stared at her with blind trust. Ones that would love her no matter what.

"A family— a family emergency came up with him." She whisperer , passing her an awkward smile.

"Oh! He's a good boy. I wouldn't mind if he's a bit more than your friend." She winked.

"Mama!" Myra groaned.

She was sure he wanted nothing to do with her. Not after the huge claims she had made. Not after how she had hurt him.

📜

Present Day.

"I still can't believe you gave me a chance after that." Myra smiled up at Aryan, her fingers stroking Usman's cheek.

"I mean — I should have waited for your reply so—" Aryan shrugged.

"So what happened next mama?" The ten year old stared up at his parents in awe.

"Mission woo Aryan. That's what started!"

📜

Fifteen Years Ago.

Bird droppings covered her tinted windshield, despite her tactical parking. Even underneath the canopy of trees, the pigeons had successfully damaged her just polished car. She had shown up, wearing two different colored socks to university— unknowingly. Her day had of course, not been up to a good start. Walking inside her class, she could only pass a small smile to her friends, not in the mood for chatter. Myra's gaze froze on Aryan's body. His frame was hunched and the dark circles underneath his eye pinched her heart with pain. What had she done? And then, the day got worse. As the professor with her grey metal spectacles took seat and asked for their assignments, Myra cursed under her breath. She had forgotten the folder at home.

"Ms.Khan would you like a separate invitation to present me with your assignment?"

The woman raised a razor thin brow, tapping away at her desk with talon like nails. Myra clenched her fists, stabbing her nails deeply into the flesh of her palms. Standing up, a blush spreading across her cheeks in embarrassment she thought of words. To put it in a more eloquent manner — to not be the class's daily dose of humor. From the corner of her eyes she observed Aryan steal a glance at her, focusing once more on the blackboard with large graphs drawn over it. His hands working on keeping up with the notes.

"Well miss?"

"Oh um—" she blinked rapidly, "I forgot it at home. On my desk." She swallowed nervously.

"That's an excuse third graders use, not students in their final year of masters miss Khan. So speak up, and explain to the class how you failed to complete the work assigned."

"I'm telling the truth— you can ask, ask Aryan. He saw it at my place yesterday!"

Turning to the man in question, she widened her eyes until they threatened to swallow her cheeks whole. Pleading, she mouthed a sorry, hoping that he would speak up in her favor. The teacher loved him. And if he sided with her she knew, the professor would let it slide.

"She isn't lying. She's done the assignment. I saw it myself." Aryan spoke.

"Very well then. I shall let it slide this once!"

Myra was restless for the rest of the lecture. Her mind was stuck at the empty face of Aryan as he had defended her, her eyes forced to stay on the board. She worked on the notes, but they were nothing but rough scrawls against blank paper. Much like her soul's state. Gulping her anxiousness, tapping her shoes against the maroon carpet underneath her seat, she prayed for the class to come to an early end. Flickering between her notes and the clock on the wall behind their professor, Myra let out a breath of relief as the bell rung. Grasping her leather tote she made a dash for the door, bumping into Aryan.

"Aryan wait I need to talk to you!"

"Miss Khan I suggest you leave my hand. If it's about the council you can talk to the new president."

Unwrapping her fingers from his wrist he walked towards his friends. Her lips fell into a frown, the neatly made brows pushed together. Myra felt tears fill her vision. No one had ever treated her with an attitude of that severity. He had been nothing but kind to her. She felt the fire of her spirit sober up, ignoring the calls of her friends. Nothing made her feel better. Not even the momo's her best friend had brought. Not even the cookies. Not even her favorite lemonade. Life had lost it's color as she mindlessly stirred the ice inside her cup.

"All okay Myra?" Tara placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Not really," she spoke, sighing "Aryan resigned from the council?"

"Yep! This morning. You're the new president now!" Tara spoke.

"Why would he do that?"

"Something about personal matters. Although your wish is fulfilled now!"

That made Myra feel even worse. Bile rose up her throat and burned the muscles inside. Her fingers wrapped around her arm tighter, stopping the blood supply from their force. Catching Aryan's silhouette in sight she made a dash for him. Her hair flying into her face at her speed, but Myra could care less about her image as she threw herself all but into his arms.

"I'm so sorry! So so so so sorry! Please Aryan! I didn't mean any of it!"

"It was a disgusting remark. I can't even look myself in the eye!" He spat.

"Let — let me make it up to you!" She whispered with tears dripping down her cheeks.

"How will you?"

"That's for me to know. Please Aryan."

"You have forty eight hours Myra. After that walk away from me."