𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 [𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡]

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ 112

Eiffel Tower, French food and first row tickets in three fashion shows Which she loved buying stuff from.

All in a week that they had been in Paris. All in those days where Arman had finally been satisfied enough to get out of the room they were staying in which again, had a direct view of the Eiffel Tower.

The window in front of the bed had the Eiffel Tower right in front of it and since it was all made of glass, Alia could look at it any time she wanted which she was doing at the moment while caressing the back of her husband.

Whenever he felt satisfied and no longer wanted to wake her up for another session filled with passion, he would continue to sleep well into the day and it would be there that they would go out on a walk around the hotel or just end up going to another sight to see.

She had no problem with that. Because Alia need a time to recover and somehow overthinking the situations that she was currently in which she was doing again at the moment.

There was this guilt in her mind. Even though she was talking to her brother almost on a daily basis and receiving constant reports of his health by her mother-in-law, Alia could not help but feel guilty of leaving him while he had had a near death experience. She should have been there but has she was enjoying life.

But then the rational side of her mind argued, that he had experienced nurses and a doctor on call day and night with him. They could do much more than she did but the other part of the brain remained adamant. She was his sister. She was supposed to be there for him.

Then came the sort of my mother in her mind. She was no longer alive but the fact that Alia had moved on so easily and was enjoying every think that her husband and the world has to offer to her made her feel guilty even more than before. What she supposed to enjoy anything? What should not supposed to remember her mother on a daily basis? When she shared it with Armaan, his words were, 'if anything, I believe your mother would want you to move ahead in life. Remember her as much as you can but never cry in her memory.'

'why?" She asked, curiously.

He shrugged, " quite honestly? Because no parent wants their child to give their death in such a way that they forget how to live."

Leaning over, with a smile on her face, Alia kissed his shoulder before snuggling into his side. Her mind was always going to be at war with her heart but thankfully she had someone by her side that could calm the waters whenever needed.

******

Crème brûlée, Crêpe, Macaron, French onion soup and Ratatouille was What they had as a late lunch and early dinner.

Of course, deserts for more as compare to actual food because Alia was in France and she was no way missing out on the sweet delicacies.

"Macarons are life," Alia moaned and bit into one more. "when we go back home, I'm going to learn how to make this."

Arman scoffed, "you can't even make dal and rice properly, Alia. How the fuck are you supposed to make macrons?"

She frowned. "I can."

"Sure." He nodded and sipped his soup and he had ordered once again. "tell me the names of three daals."

Shit. Channa? Or was it channe? Weren't they the same?

"Uh—"

"Leave it," he laughed to himself, " but try as much as you want. I'd like to come home to Macarons someday." 

She grumbled something under her breath but remained silent, enjoying the food as much as she could. Who knew when they would be able to come to Paris next time. So she was treating it as a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Later that night, around the twinkling Eiffel tower, they were walking around with me. With their bellies filled, a lazy walk seemed to be the perfect thing to do.

With his arm in hers, they worked together with their footsteps in sync.

"When do you think we would be able to come here next time?" She asked, dreaming staring up at the Eiffel Tower.

"when ever you want." He answered. "I would like for it to remain special so not so frequently." He kissed her head, "would you like more macrons?"

"No," She sighed, "I'm done for now."

A little while later, with her cheek pressed against his bicep, she asked, "what do you think our married life would be like?"

He did not answer her immediately. And by the looks of it, he was thinking about it before answering.

"The way we want it to be, quite honestly. You have known me to be someone who likes to keep control over things and you are the messiest person I know. Somehow, I know if you find a middle ground we will coexist perfectly together."

They might. She agreed. They just might.

Loud cheers erupted from a crowd that they just walked by and the yelled a sentence, "Aux coeurs tombés."

"What does that mean?" She asked knowing that Armaan knew a little bit of French.

"To fallen hearts," he replied dryly. "that's what it says."