Wings

Summary: "Achchi likhthi ho tum."

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Note before: in this house we don't accept that branding scene as cannon. Veer of Chaar kadam would never do that. Or the title itself would be meaningless.
Also, in this particular AU Randheer is still unaware of the fake marriage status.

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"I need to talk to you!"

The demand seems to ring in her ears. Amrit takes a sharp turn and strides down the hallway. To her ill luck Randheer follows.

"Amrit - Amrit meri baat suniye-"

Amrit strides inside Veer's room and pauses at the threshold, trying and failing to glare at Randheer. When he looks at her like that, like she is his most precious possession lost, there's very little she could manage to do.

"This is my husband's room. Are you going to come in?" She says before shutting the door.

Of cause Veer isn't there. He is hardly ever found in domestic places.

Massaging her head Amrit enters her own room. And stops.
Veer is sitting on her bed, flipping through what is unmistakably - her journal. He looks up as she enters and wiggles his fingers at her.

"How - dare - you!" She grits out, seething. Amrit rushes towards him and tries to snatch that leather bound book from his hand. Veer jumps to his feet simultaneously and holds it up in the air well above her head. "Give - it - here!"

"I don't think so," he smiles wickedly. "I didn't even finish the interesting part."

Easily, he changes hands when she tries to reach on her tip toes and flips the book open holding it high up.

"Hmm - where was I- haan, mohabbat - mohabbat - pahadiyo main dhoop jaise aate hai, dheere dheere - phir ajanak palak japakthe hi raat subha main badal jaathi hai..."

All the while Amrit tries to salvage her book from those hands and Veer manages to dodge her, twirl around her and wave it just out of her reach.

His footwork was better than hers. Amrit cursed her saari, his trousers and all the other variables slowing her down, chasing him around - listening to words of her sixteen year old self pouring out from those sarcastic lips. It felt like one of those stupid dances where you weren't supposed touch your partner but twirl around them. A maddening dance.

"Veer!" She says exasperated. "That's private. How could you read that? Why would you look into my private stuff -"

"I was looking for the key you stole. You called this muzeebat on yourself biwi sahab," he answers and turns a page. "Toh kahaan the hum?" He clears his throat and begins to read.

"Aaj toota dorr dil ka - behegaye hassi main usska -"

Amrit stops dead.

"Not that one Veer - not that one."

Veer spares a curious glance at her. But the smirk tugging his lips is unforgiving.

"Bhaagu aapne mann ki peeche  - phir bhi woh haato se phisala..."

She launches at him and for the first time during this entire chase Veer is too slow to dodge. They stumble together, both losing their balance and clinging to each other - the force with which Amrit had pounced sends them toppling backwards on the bed. Veer falls first, Amrit on the top of him - her journal sandwiched between them.

For a moment Amrit stares down at him, trying to catch her breath. His eyes are again sun warmed brown, full of mirth that he almost looks a different person.

Then, all too soon - they change. The hand that isn't holding her journal and sandwiched between them comes up and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"What do you want Ma sahab?"

When he speaks it isn't her that he addresses. Amrit stands up too quickly, her cheeks burning - biting the inside of her cheek. She could very well imagine how it might have looked.

On the other hand Veer is unbothered, if not shameless. He collects himself unhurriedly, tucks her journal back under her pillow where it originally was and stands up. All the while Rani Sahiba says nothing.

She clenches her jaw to show her displeasure and remains watching both of them as if they had murdered someone inside their bedroom.

"Yeh sab kya thamasha Chal raha hai?" She asks in the end.

Veer arches a brow. But says nothing.

"There are rules in this house. A certain etiquette that we follow. Kya Humein aap ko woh sab phir se sikhana parenga Veer?" She continues. "I could hear you two outside in the hallway. Yeh kya bachcho ki tarah -"

"Did you come to lecture us on etiquette ma sahab?" Veer sounds bored. "Hum ne kaha tha aapse biwi sahab chalo honeymoon pe kahi door chalte hai- nahi, you didn't listen. Inki seva karna tha na aap ko? Ab dekhiye - kya kya sun na honga dekhiye."

Rani sahiba looks angrier than ever.

"I'm not here to talk about all those useless things. I have a press conference tomorrow. All the important newspapers will be sending their representatives. I want you two - there." She looked Veer up and down.

"Sober."

Veer chuckled.

"Biwi sahab is always sober. You don't have to worry."

"I did not mean her. Don't you dare make any funny business there Veer. I'll make you rue it if you do. Be there on time. Rest Randheer will handle."

She doesn't wait for them to agree or deny. Veer shrugs once she's gone. The look he gives her is an I- told - you - so. Amrit shakes her head at him, annoyed at both mother and son and their neverending clash of egos.

Veer was simply using her to irritate his mother. Amrit feels humiliated, and not a little angry.

He surely knew Rani Ma would come looking for him and was purposely waiting for her here; in her room. She turns to leave. The peaceful afternoon she was planning to spend will have to be arranged elsewhere.

"Achchi likhthi ho tum," Veer calls after her.

Amrit grits her teeth.

"You weren't meant to read them. But thank you!" She doesn't even turn around as she says that and turns the door knob which Rani Ma had slammed behind her; for all talks of etiquette.

Veer places a palm on the door, keeping her from opening it.

Amrit looks up at him, annoyed.

"Humari baat poori nahi hui." Veer tells her.

"What do you want now?"

"I want you to write."

"Huh?" Amrit cannot help the surprised sound that escapes her. Or the widening of her eyes. She stares up at him.

"If you are inclined to listen, baith ke baat kare?"

She nodded mutely and Veer went back to his previous place on her bed, pointing her to the armchair. He pulled out that journal once more and flipped it open at random.

"There's a lady. Very good at what she does. Unkhi ek news paper hai. Chota sa. But influential because her targetted readership is women. Now before you ask me like Rani Ma what's the point of women newspapers - ideas you give women goes to the centre of any house. To the core of the nation."

Amrit nods, not daring to talk. There is this strange pounding inside her heart like a flapping of wings. It's been so long since she felt that pull to write. To be heard. It was so strange to hear her own ideals repeated by someone else.

"Aisa hum nahi kehe rahe, woh kehethi hai," Veer quickly wipes his hands off the philosophical talk. "Anyway, she wants a girl who is both proficient in Urdu and Panjaabi. She writes in Urdu, she has no one who could translate for her. Are you interested in helping out? You will get to write on your own too. Baki tum kudh baat kar lena unse. What say?"

"Kaun hai yeh aurat?"

"Farida Begam Siddiquie," Veer said shortly. "Her paper is called Awaz. In case you are interested."

"Is this not the same woman who would oppose your mother in the election? Are you trying to use me in some petty show off against your mother once more Kuwar Sahab? Why are you even associating yourself with someone who is against your -"

"I brought you into this house against Ma sahab's wishes as well, Amrit. Yeh mat bhulo. Hum kisse rishta rakhe kisse nahi iss se tumhari koi lena dena nahi hai. And before you get any weird idea - Ma sahab ki Umra ki hai woh. Hum bohut izzad karte hai unki. If you want to help her you may. If not - that's also up to you. If you are declining because of Rani Ma's politics you don't have to do that. Jab unki beta ho kar hum aisa kar sakte hai toh tumhe koi kyun rokhe?"

His words were followed by silence. Amrit tried and failed to quieten the flapping wings of her heart. She wanted this. She so wanted this!

"When can I meet her?" She asked in a small voice.

Veer clapped his hands together, satisfied with himself.

"Tomorrow."

**
Oh and I'm going to update tomorrow.😁 to celebrate this story getting ranked among one of the genre ranks ie, 49 in historical fiction out of 42K stories!
I know all of us amveerians are feeling rather down right now, so please do let me know you are there still willing to read - if you are. Give me some inspiration to go by!
Thank you for reading! Voting and of cause for existing!❤❤