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“Comeon,Bhaiya,”Istarted, finding it impossible to believe my only brother wouldn’t want me walking in with the wedding party, and prefer to have me seated with the rest of the guests.Milanwas high maintenance, but this was beyond trivial. “Noone’s going to pay attention to my shoes or hair or accessories.Everyonewill be looking at the bride and groom.”
“Notif you stick out like a sore thumb.”Milanstepped forward and raised an index finger pointedly. “Thepictures will look ridiculous if you walk in looking completely different than everyone else.Thereis no point in ruining the coordination.Gofind a seat.Orbetter yet, you’re disinvited.Don’tattend my wedding at all.”
Theblood drained from my face, eyes burning with unshed tears.
“Thisis unbelievable,” he said toMom. “Sheruins everything.Doyou know how humiliating this is for me?”
Ichoked.Dahliahad fifteen freaking bridesmaids.IfMilan’sonly sister were left out of a wedding party so large, it’d be blatantly obvious it was a snub.Andhe thought this was humiliating forhim?Notto mention,Milancould easily rectify this “humiliating” instance by letting me be a part of his day.
“I’msorry—”
Momheld up a hand to shut me up. “Youhave said sorry so much in your lifetime that the word has lost its meaning.Anapology means nothing unless you don’t repeat the mistake.Youhave done the same things year after year, expecting different results, and you want us to believe you’re sorry?Growup,Piya,”Momsaid so sharply thatIflinched.
WhileIlooked like a younger version ofZainaMittal,MomandIwere as different as they came.Shewas an accomplishedCPAand owned an accounting firm, whereasIstarted writing jingles for racy ads during my senior year of college, a career choiceMomdetested.Momwas driven and cutthroat.Iwas laid back and easygoing.Shecame from old money, just likePapa, and loved that they were a power couple.Otherthan to appease my family,Icould care less about an ambitious partner.Momexpected more from me and could never accept the poor imitationIwas of her.
“Evenafter everything you put us through,Iasked very little of you today.Tonot ruin your brother’s mood and look at what you’ve done.”UnlikeMilan,Momwas a first-generation immigrant and had anIndiantwang to her accent.Itdidn’t make her voice less menacing than my brother’s. “Youhave no idea how lucky you are and take everything for granted.Theprivilege, the life we have given you, you squander it away on useless boys.Ifyou had paid as much attention to what your brother wanted today, this wouldn’t have happened.Learnto face the consequences of your actions,Piya.Eitherwait with the rest of the guests or return to the house.Idon’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day.”
Thebrutal words were shards of ice slicing my heart open.Ishrunk back.Momwas right in her assessment.Idid the same things over and over, expecting different results.However, today wasn’t about whatMomthought of me.Weddingswere a once-in-a-lifetime event.Therehad to be a part ofMilanthat wanted his only sister to be a part of it. “Bhaiya,I’mso sorry for not paying attention—”
“Enough,Piya,”Momdropped her voice as more groomsmen and bridesmaids started congregating around the elegant hallway.Sheturned toPapa. “Talkto your daughter.”Shedismissed me entirely, urgingMilanto focus on his celebrations instead of me.
Papa, who had been quiet during this exchange and generally hated confrontations, gave me pleading eyes. “Justtry to understand,Beta,” he cooed. “Thereisn’t enough time to go back and change.”
“ButPapa,Ijust—”
“It’sMilan’swedding,Piya,”Papaspoke more sternly because we were running out of time. “It’shis choice if he wants you to be a part of it.”
Iclosed my mouth, nodding.Theplanners had returned to round up the wedding party for the processional.Makinga scene would only cause more distress.Thisdiscussion was over;Iwasn’t wanted.
Milan’sjaw ticked as he mouthed,Go.
Asharp bite of devastation eviscerated the warm feelingsJayhad incited throughout the day, andIleft without a backward glance.
* * *
Afterthe ceremony fiasco,Idashed home to change into the reception wear.Insteadof dwelling in self-pity,Iwas adamant about not causing more issues.Ittook me thirty minutes to make myself presentable.IrecountedMilan’slist for the reception attire down to the shoes.Mattenude lipstick, smokey eyes, and high contours completed the look, andIwas pleased with the finished product.Itwas only whenIleft the house thatIstumbled in the dark and fell face down onto the muddy terrain.
Damnmy clumsiness.Ilacked the required patience for the grace exercised by the likes ofZainaMittal.
Thistime,Ididn’t bother askingMilanifIcould be part of the post-ceremony photos or walk in with the wedding party for the reception.Therewasn’t enough time to shower, change, and attend the dinner portion of the reception.Theexcitement over my only brother getting married had long passed from the day’s rejections and this final disappointment.Atthis point,Isimply wanted to stay out of the way.
Itexted my best friend,Jordan, to tell her what happened and let her break the news to my family.Bothof our families were fromSandsPoint,LongIsland, servicing the richest of the rich.AmitMittal, my papa, was a renowned plastic surgeon who manipulated and rearranged body parts the rich deemed unacceptable.Jordan’sdad was a publicist who handled press releases and maintained the public image ofNewYorkcelebrities.HisPRfirm dealt with scandals ranging from the latest celebrity sex tape leak to married stars caught with their pants around their ankles.
WhenJordan’sfamily moved next door, it was “best friends at first sight” for our fathers and us.Herfamily received automatic invitations to our vacations, mainly becauseJordanwas less of a rebel, andMomhoped she’d be a good influence on me.BothMilanandMomadoredJordanfor that reason.
Jordanknew what had gone down at the ceremony and suggested steering clear of my brother until he cooled down.Iagreed heavy-heartedly, returning home to change into a simple blue dress instead.
Re-entering the pretentious venue took all the willpowerIpossessed.Oversizedcenterpieces and ivory linens with baby blue napkins beautifully decorated the ballroom.Bluedelphiniums and anemones peeked through large white hydrangea arrangements.Whiteand blue uplights acted as pin spotters for every column in the room, giving it a magical glow.
Jordannipped at my heels and followed me to the bar, refusing to let me stray while my torrent of emotions ran rampant.AsIwaited for the bartender,Itook stock of the guests in attendance.Mycousins were at the photo booth station.Myparents were making their rounds with theAunties, aka the gossip mongers of our community.AndMilanwas… shit…Milanwas marching straight toward me.Iknew he was still furious for fucking up both the day and evening outfits.Luckily, there was a buffer.
“Jordan!Piya!”Dahliasnapped me out of my stupor, embracing me tightly. “Areyou guys having fun?”
“Ofcourse,” we replied in unison asIhugged back my new sister-in-law.
Iquickly disengaged upon noticing my brother’s rigid stance next toDahlia.Ascowl was painted on his face thoughIhad hoped the open bar would’ve subdued it. “Drinks?”Iasked. “Champagnefor the newlyweds, please,”Iturned to the bartender without waiting for their response.
“Youlook so beautiful,Piya.”
