Arylie FF: I'm Happy Here With You

fifteen ~ banke titli dil uda

haadse ye kaise, ansunee si jaise

choome andheron ko, koi noor

banke titli dil uda hain kahin door

... ... ...

The next morning, Aryan Singh Rathore learned a very valuable life lesson.

There are many kinds of honesty. And you can never, ever be bluntly honest with the girl you like.

When he came home from running, he saw Imlie dancing in the garden. She was graceful and beautiful as ever. She had headphones on so he couldn't hear what music she was dancing to but it wasn't really necessary. She was a vision in silence too.

But as he stood there, he noticed a pattern. She would dance for a while, frown and start over again, her moves repetitive.

Hmm. She probably never got a chance to actually learn dancing. He wondered whether she'd like that.

Imlie stopped abruptly when she finally noticed him. She grinned and rushed towards him, "Tum agaye?"

"Hmm," he twirled the loose strand of her hair that was framing her face. "What were you doing?"

"Dancing," she beamed. "What did you think of it?"

"Your dance is nice Imlie, you should go to a dance school," he said. He knew he'd said the wrong thing right away as her face fell. "What do you mean dance school? Is my, is my dance not good?"

"What, no, I said it was nice?"

"Nice? It was nice? You know when people say nice? When your friend keeps sending clips of a show you don't like, you say nice to be polite. That is the most passive aggressive term ever!"

"No it is not, it's a positive word, meant as an appreciation."

"I've a two letter word for you, En Oh, NO. It is not. Do you not know anything?"

"I know things that make sense."

"Why would you say I needed to go to dance school?"

"So that you could get better?"

Her face paled more. "You really think I'm not good? Okay fine, I won't dance anymore."

"Imlie, what, that literally was not the point."

"Do me a favor?"

"Of course, what do you need?"

"Don't talk to me!" Imlie gave him a little push and almost ran inside. He stood there, hands on hips. What did just happen, why's she reacting so much!

***

He hadn't expected her to calm down soon but he hadn't anticipated the situation to be this dire either. Imlie's sour mood continued at the breakfast table. She showcased that spectacularly by banging every crockery and cutlery piece she could get her hand on. And if that wasn't a clear enough message, she was sitting on the seat farthest from him and was glaring at him with open hostility, muttering something angrily under her breath and mimicking his stern face in intervals.

"What?" he finally asked.

She mimicked using a knife and fork like he was doing, "The way you are eating is irritating me. So fancy, so posh. As if Sir Highness is eating a dragon egg while us mortals get mere chicken eggs. Let go of the pretense, it's the same omelet that common people eat. Vilaiti kahinka, Satindar Vilaiti!"