1 The Missing News

'I-I'm on my way, okay? Don't worry. I'll be there in a jiffy.' I say and hang up the call.

What the fuck is this now?

I palm my face and rub my eyes. This is hard to absorb. Only a week back I met her, how can she go missing? The thought is unsettling.

I get up from the bed and cover my naked self with the duvet. I need a bath. I can't smell of sex when I'm with him. I decide to let Arif sleep.

The warmth of the cascade on my body feels soothing. I rub my shoulders and neck trying to free myself from dried sweat and whatever liquid that adhered to my body, hours back. Once done, I wrap myself in the red towel and squeeze enough of the watermelon face-wash to wash my entire body. Quickly rubbing it over my face, I wash it away and inhale deeply, the fruity smell filling up my nostrils and my senses.

I smell better.

After pulling on my jeans, I drop the towel. Where is my bra? Arif's bad habit of throwing my undergarments hay while when he is reduced to a grunting animal infuriates me always. I look for it under the pillow, under the bed. Walking towards his side, I check the bedside table. Not there.

I run my fingers through my hair in exasperation and place the other hand on my waist. Looking at him sleeping peacefully when I'm almost in a condition of hostile, I wonder why he never understands that I can't do without my bra unlike my panty, which is still missing, of course. Just then he shifts lazily and turns on his stomach.

There.

I see my black bra peeping from under his back. I pull it aggressively, he wakes up.

'You're going somewhere?' he asks sleepily as he lifts his head up like an innocuous snake. I don't answer back.

Hurry up, girl.

He looks at his phone as I clasp my bra, 'Noor, it's hardly four in the morning.'

'Hmm, I'm aware,' I snap at him.

I throw my phone and comb in my handbag and apply some moisturizer on my face within seconds after I wear my office, deep brown Vero Moda shirt. Though I hate to look formal in front of T.S., I can't certainly afford to lose any more of whatever time is left with me by hunting for my decent tee in Arif's wardrobe.

'Noor?' he asks as I put on my black formal stilettos.

'It's an emergency, hon. I gotta rush.' I get up and reluctantly kiss him on the cheek.

Apply lip balm.

'Should I come?' he asks as I take the car keys from atop the table and walk towards the door.

I sigh. I gaze back at him and give him the look which is enough to indicate him about my whereabouts, though I say, 'It's T.S.'

'Oh,' he replies, I shut the door behind me.

He understands.

֎

12th October 2010

It's been exactly seventy-three days, of my new life in IIT Kharagpur. Today was actually different from all the days of my life.

Apart from T.S., I've never thought of any other guy till now. Strange for a nineteen-year-old, I know, but it surely isn't strange for a lover that I am since I was thirteen... I already feel like a cheater, though it makes no sense absolutely... to normal people that is of course.

A week back, for the fresher's party all of us were requested (rather ordered by the seniors) to prepare something for the stupid talent round. We had a sort of meeting in the huge 'auditorium' where the gang usually gathers- the scrap yard behind the main building. Surprisingly all the hooligans from my batch were silently listening to what the, probably third-year students had to say. All credits go to that hunk of a guy, J said his name is Arif.

Arif... nice name.

When I first saw him, he saw me back. That was weeks ago, in the mess. He's just jaws and a slight beard. Unlike the other guys, there is something different about him. Something in his looks? Or something in the way those eyes studded on his sharp jawed face look at me? (But surely that something isn't even half the way close to how it is with T.S., obviously.)

I don't know.

That day, in the scrapyard, one of the seniors asked us what we were interested in. She was hot, the conductor (it is later that I came to know, she is the most popular among hormonally charged boys). She threw random topics at us and directed us to go to different people who could help us with our preparation. Since then J had been budging me to go for dance- a thorough disadvantage of telling your best friend that you are a professionally trained dancer. Yes, I was trained to dance when I was a little kid, I loved to do ballet, in fact, it was the only source where I could find solace, that is before reading came in, and that, of course, is before T.S. happened. But still, I left dancing when I was twelve. I hardly remembered anything about it.

Gah! That was a lie. I still knew each and every step clearly, just that my steps weren't polished like before.

Moreover, let's just admit it, not everyone needs to know I was a ballerina.

So today early morning, I dressed up in black, my favorite- vest and pantyhose, that J, like the sweetheart she is, bought especially for me... or rather for this purpose. She spent half her pocket money on it, I refused to accept it at first, forgetting completely the fact that Jassica Kapoor is not used to listening to 'no's. I went to the empty room with big mirrors on the walls, on the fourth floor, where people usually chatted and nasty couples made out. Beside it was the gym, empty again.

Solitary and books are the ultimate source of my comfort now.

No sooner did I hit the 'Play' button on my phone. the entire room started reverberating with the Beethoven- Moonlight Sonata and with that my legs moved like it had found its lost soul.

I gave in to the music.

After a long time, I felt like I was a free girl again. Free from the haunting, scarred past. I danced as if I was born to. I was hallucinated almost. Thinking that no one was watching me, I tried doing the classic spin (pirouette). Even if fell, I wouldn't make fun of me, I thought. And I spun, like a top... until I saw a strange figure on the door, a human figure gazing at me like...

like a hunter- sharply.

I lost my confidence first and then my balance and fell like a drilling screw on the ground.

My hair was a mess from the neat bun that I always made for dancing. I looked up and there was no one. I swallowed hard as I realized the distance between me and the ground was increasing, to only realize that it was him, the hunk guy- Arif. He sat me on the only bench and pressed my instep with his thumb-tips as he traced along with it.

It was soothing, like never before.

I had twisted my ankle of course but I never felt the pain until I tried to free my foot from his grip with an objecting grunt.

'Shut up,' he said.

'No,' I breathed.

He further twisted my foot, it crackled a bit, and then it was back to normal.

'You dance well,' he said as I limped to leave. I didn't look back, fully ignoring him.

Of course, that was an insult on his face, but it didn't matter to me.

'Stop' he shouted. Though I didn't want to I did. I turned back, my ankle still hurt.

He came close to me, really close. At that time, a part of me wanted to scream and run out of that room, calling him a psycho rapist. But the other part was calm. It wanted to know what Arif's next step would be.

'I thought they were right. The people who said you were different- fighter,' he said referring to how I complained to the authorities, about the guys who collected outside the hostel, for ragging the freshers. 'But you, you are the same...' he came closer. I could almost smell his fresh breath,

'a coward.' he said.

'I am not a coward.' I sneered through my gritted teeth.

'Loser' makes you feel better?' he stepped back and those eyes, scrutinized me from top to bottom. For some miraculous reason, I wasn't scared. I stepped close to him, and looked straight into those frightening eyes that failed to frighten me, and asked him why he said so.

It was only then he challenged me to dance in front of him like I was dancing when I didn't notice him. I knew it was a trap. He was rather provoking me to do what he wanted me to do- dance so he could watch me.

I accepted his challenge.

I played the same tone on my phone again and tried to do the pirouette. As I raised my arms above my head, he came and stood behind me. With his palms, he traced along the side of my upper arm, maintaining about a half an inch distance between our skins. He didn't touch me until he reached my elbows, which to my shock, he jerked backward straightening them further,

'Arms should be straight Miss. They're strong and stretched that way. Helps you to maintain your inertia, you see?' he said.

'I am trained,' I snarled looking back at him and shrugged to remove his hands from my body. I was murderous.

I folded my left knee and planned to spin the moment, the pianist hit the high notes of the beautiful piece that filled up the room, when with one swift motion, Arif pulled my left leg, placed it on his back while his right hand wrapped around my stomach like a hungry snake. He lifted me up from the ground and spun around- fast.

Had the motion been a little slower, I would have not lost myself. I am still clueless about how many turns he took in that few seconds before he juggled me from one arm to the other. It was the most intimate dance I ever had in my entire life. I was on his back, draped around him. Although our reflection was clear in the big mirrors, I could not imbibe how we looked. I don't remember anything apart from the last step which ended with the music, with my right leg hanging from his back, on his shoulder, his firm hands gripping my weight.

It was beautiful.

It was safe.

It was emotionally orgasmic.

I was content.

I left the room with a smile on my face after he complimented my flexibility and I criticized him for being a show-off.

But my smile was short lasted. As I washed my face, I realized what a cheater I had been to T.S. I still cannot forgive myself for allowing Arif to come so close to me. It's a disgrace on my part. I shouldn't have, I regret it now. How could I?

I love someone else... This is so wrong. At least since the very day, I pledged myself. To remain loyal to the person who helped me grow. No matter what... I will forever be

With love always...

T.S. Lover. (Noor)