Tara is looking for love but refuses to let anyone close. When a certain charming hunk from a dating app weasels his way in, will Tara resort to her old ways or actually open up?
Armaan has never been taken seriously, so he has stopped taking himsel...
Don't forget to read the full A/N at the end of the chapter!
~ ~ ~
Three months later
Armaan was sloshed, for the lack of a better word. And why would he not drink? It was his brother's wedding after all. Yes, maybe, he could have waited a little and started drinking after Sangeet began and not while the bar was being set up.
But Armaan did not feel like caring. It was not like he was a messy drunk; at most, he would start weeping, that was as extreme as his drinking habits took him.
Also, he was not really responsible for any task at the big Malhotra-Sengupta wedding. Being the youngest in the family, everyone assumed he was good for nothing, so he was left to play out his "whims" and act all charming and wear his "always happy" mask.
Life sucked, Armaan thought as he got up from the bar stool and turned around to face the guests now populating the well-lit venue.
And, boom!
Armaan would have never expected that he would wish being sober, at a wedding of all things. But now, wobbling on his feet, squirting his eyes, he really needed to be sober, to make sure what he was seeing was indeed happening.
For, in front of him, stood a gorgeous, gorgeous woman, looking almost identical to a certain Tara Mukherjee, the woman of his dreams and the woman with whom he also had the most disastrous of first dates.
Was he hallucinating her now? He really needed to get a grasp and get over her.
Armaan closed his eyes tightly and reopened it in quick succession a couple of times. But she had vanished by his 10th or so eye opening attempt.
Armaan tried this trick two more times, but he could not see Tara anymore. A part of him sighed in relief at the thought of not going insane but a part, a small but significant part was sad, sad at not having a longer look at his imagination of her orange lehenga clad appearance.
She looked really pretty, Armaan let out a heavier sigh.
"Hi."
Even before turning around, Armaan knew who it was. He was not hallucinating after all.
"Hi. How have you been, Tara?" Armaan turned to the voice with a huge smile; all traces of intoxication gone in a second.
"I'm good. How are you doing?" Tara smiled back, a wistful smile that did something to Armaan's stomach.
While he clamored his brain for something to say, Tara continued, looking at something over his shoulder, "I saw you looking at me...I know we didn't have a good meeting but the part before that was really nice, even under different apprehensions maybe..."
Tara risked a peek at him, before once again turning away her gaze. Armaan amusingly took note of this at the back of his head. Tara really struggled with keeping eye contact. Now that he thought about it, she kept staring at her hands below the table on their date, too.
"...but I would hate if we behaved like strangers. So, I thought I should just greet you," she finished with a re-energized plastic smile plastered on her face, a smile reserved for courtesy.
As much as studying Tara's body language was necessary to Armaan, he also didn't want to keep her hanging anymore.
"You did the right thing, Tara. And I was not trying to avoid you. I've had a few drinks, it's a Punjabi wedding in the resplendent city of Udaipur after all...So, I was not sure if it was really you," Armaan let out a chortle, thinking how he was two for two now. First time they met, Tara judged him for being a pervert and now he was an incontrollable drunk who thought he was hallucinating the girl he met three months back.
But Tara's laughter brought back Armaan from his pitiable monologue. "No, it is me. Hi!" she said animatedly. After a quick scan across the open lawn where the event was set up, she added, "So, it is a Malhotra wedding, I'm guessing you are from the groom's side?"
"Yeah, a bit too close. It's my elder brother's Sangeet, you remember Harsh? It's the same one."
"Oh, yeah I remember, the prodigal son right? The one you called my spitting image?"
Armaan laughed, "Yes. Both of you are indeed identical. Eldest children, fulfilling all your parents' dreams and making us younger kids look bad."
"Hey!" Tara cut in, but her laughter indicated she had not taken offense.
Right then, a commotion grabbed their attention. The bride and groom had hit the dance floor, followed by a few members of the family.
"Should not you be there?" Tara asked.
"Uh, no. Believe me, my dancing skills are better limited to my room."
Tara coughed and it took Armaan's inebriated brain a little too long to sense the awkwardness. "Room" was still a touchy word for her, it seemed.
"Uh, so you are from the bride's side, I presume?" Armaan tried to change the subject.
Tara, thankfully, allowed the turn in conversation. "Yes, although I don't even know her. Like I know of her, but I've hardly spoken to her. She is actually my maasi (mother's sister), even though she's like three years older."
She must have read Armaan's confused expression for she tried to explain.
"So, the bride's father happens to be my maternal grandmother's cousin and he is my mother's contemporary. It's just a whole lot of complicated family tree," Tara finished.
"Yeah, that did not simplify shit," Armaan said and both broke into a chuckle.
Gossiping about Indian wedding festivities and relatives, Armaan nearly forgot how long they were standing chatting away in the corner of the massive palace turned destination wedding venue. It was as if the loud surroundings had fallen into a lull and all he could focus on was Tara.
And maybe it was because he was reading her face so hard that he could recognize her mask of civility had not slipped by. Although it did fall apart momentarily here and there after some funny anecdote, she would consciously gather it back, thoughtfully asking questions to keep the conversation balanced.
She was amusing him because she felt bad for how things went last time, Armaan realized with a thud; this was not a do over, this was her attempt at curating a good memory to cover the harsh one—a good memory to remember her by.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N: So, we do see a bit of inferiority complex that Armaan suffers from, and we get a chapter from his POV. As per my plan, I'll rotate between the two for POVs.
Also, coming up next, we will find out a fraction of why Tara is closed off like the way she is.
If you stumble upon this story and happen to find interest, please drop a Hi.
