DREAMY TALES

Arylie || His Braveheart ||

Monday 9:57 PM, At Blue Moon Apartment.

Imlie sat by the window, sipping her tea with a mixture of anger and sadness. The tea's warmth did little to soothe her troubled mind. Her gaze was drawn to the garden outside, where cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, their delicate petals fluttering in the gentle night breeze.

Under one of the park lights, a couple sat on a wooden bench. The boy's head rested comfortably on the girl's lap, and she ran her fingers tenderly through his hair. They seemed lost in their own world, their serene moment starkly contrasting with Imlie's turbulent thoughts.

A sharp pang of hurt pierced Imlie's heart as memories from her past flooded back. She vividly recalled the times when he would lay his head on her lap, seeking comfort and solace. She would gently massage his head, her fingers working through his hair in soothing motions. Those moments were intimate and tender, filled with unspoken love and connection.

It had been several months since she last saw him. The last time was on her birthday when he surprised her with an unexpected visit. That memory felt like a lifetime ago, and the distance between them now seemed insurmountable.

"If you're missing him so much, why don't you just call him?" Payal suggested, breaking the silence as she placed her laptop on the table.

"Why should I? That Akadbhaga could call me if he cared," Imlie retorted, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I can't even go back to Delhi because of tomorrow's event. Otherwise, I would..." Payal began, but Imlie cut her off.

"If you can't go, why don't you ask Aryan sir to come here? After all, he is your husband," Payal shrugged, her tone nonchalant but her words striking a chord.

"Does that workaholic Singh Rathore even remember he has a wife? He's probably enjoying himself with his mistresses," Imlie dramatized, hitting her forehead with mock despair.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'mistresses'? I don't care how powerful he is, if he's cheating on you..." Payal's face flushed with anger, but Imlie quickly embraced her, calming her down.

"Calm down, calm down Payal. By 'mistresses,' I mean his office, his laptop, and..." Imlie handed her a glass of water, cutting off her friend's rant.

"Please, yeh teesri baat udhar mat dena," Payal said, taking a sip and shaking her head.

Imlie giggled, "Aur uki phele mrs...Mrs lambi Gadi. Amidst all this, he hardly remembers me."

"He's doing everything for your benefit, Imlie," Payal comforted her, rubbing her arms gently.

"Keeping me so far away?" A lone tear slipped from Imlie's eye.

"It can't be easy for him either, Imlie. He wants your future to be bright, just like you. He wants you to become independent. Think about it-he's a millionaire. He doesn't need his wife to work, but he wants you to stand on your own feet without any privilege. You came to Paris on a scholarship, and tomorrow you'll receive your pride. Whatever you've achieved, staying away from your family," Payal side-hugged Imlie.

"You should be happy that your husband is so supportive and down-to-earth. Here you are, shedding tears. It's been only a year; receive your certificate and award as the best field journalist, and then go back to your family," she patted Imlie's back.

"I know, Payal. He only wants what's best for me. He's making me the strong and independent Imaliya I always dreamed of becoming," she smiled through her tears.

"And now that dream is about to come true. I might have reached here on my own, but I could never have done it without him-my boss, my mentor, my abp," she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.