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As usual, his mother thought that she knew best.
“Shh! Not so loudly, duffer! She’s a flight risk. Just take her to the fundraiser and call Dr Jay over to keep her company when you go on stage to give your boring speech. He’s such a charming boy. I’m sure he will find a way to keep her occupied,” she said, with a wink that made him feel very uncomfortable.
“No, Ma. I’m not going to pimp my sister out to that mouth breather,” he said sternly.
His mother glared at him and then let loose her most powerful weapon. She turned on the waterworks.
“What have I done to have such ungrateful children? All I want is for the two of you to be happy. And this is how you repay me. By saying such hurtful things,” she wept, with her face buried in her dupatta.
Aryan looked closely at her face. The tears seemed real. He wondered if that was a natural gift from God, or if she had practised it in front of a mirror.
“And you wonder where Nivy got her flair for drama from. Nicely done, Ma. You’d put Nirupa Roy to shame. No, wait. Who was that actress with the thick winged eyeliner? Manorama! You cry just like her. The same sound effects and torrent of tears that don’t ruin your eye makeup,” he teased.
His mother looked up at him and glared.
“Don’t you mock me, Aryan Sharma! You might be a big doctor now, but you’re still my son. And your sister might be a big actress in Mumbai, but she’s still my daughter. The two of you have to do as I say,” she insisted.
“Or what?” drawled Nivy, from the door.
Their mother gasped as she saw what her daughter was wearing. Aryan tried to tune out the fight because it was nothing new. His mother and his sister had been at each other’s throats since the beginning of time.
But somewhere between his mother channelling her inner Manorama, and his sister refusing to put on another layer of clothing, he heard something that made his heart stutter to a stop.
“It’s Jessie who’s meeting someone at the fundraiser, Ma, not I,” snapped Nivy.
Aryan had been headed towards the door, but at her words, he spun around and tried to swallow over the dryness of his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question. Thankfully, his mother had no such qualms.
“Is Jayshree Devi going to meet a boy?” she asked eagerly.
Aryan winced at the Devi bit. Poor Jessie would throw a hissy fit if anyone ever called her by her full title, he thought wryly. Her Highness Yuvarajkumari Jayshree Devi. She claimed it made her sound like a crazy, Trishul-toting godwoman.
He was done with this shit, he decided. He wanted to go to the palace, give his bloody speech, and then stay away from Jessie for the rest of his life. Especially if she was going around ‘meeting guys’ - a perfectly vile term for what was essentially parent-approved speed dating.
And now, his mother wanted Nivy to ‘meet’ Dr Jay.
But his sister wasn’t a babe in the woods. She guessed what their mother was up to, and called her out on her plan, and they got into it again.
Aryan muttered under his breath and made for the door. He was ready to drive away without Nivy. Thankfully, she followed him out of the door, stomping over to his car in her high heels.
“You do know that you can just refuse to marry the guy,” he ventured.
And then realised his mistake. He had given Nivy the perfect opportunity to rant about their mother and parental pressure, and somehow he figured as the villain in all of that. Aryan turned the music up loud in a bid to tune her out and brooded over the injustice of life in general, and girls in particular, as they made their way to the palace.
They wandered into the grand ballroom which was the venue for the fundraiser, and Aryan patted his jacket pocket to check that his speech was still there. That’s when he saw her. In her peach, gauzy saree, she looked every inch the princess that she was. Calm, collected, and so neat that it made him want to kiss her senseless just to muss up that picture of perfection.
And then she ruined it all by squealing like a stuck pig when she saw Nivy. His sister squealed back, and the combined decibel levels made his eyes cross. Jessie saw him standing behind Nivy, and stopped mid-squeal.
“Dr Sharma,” she said, with a regal nod.
He nodded back formally.
“Your Highness.”
Nivy stared at them as if they were mad. But Aryan knew his place. This fundraiser might have been his baby, but he was still a nobody. It was being paid for by the Devgarh Foundation, and as the chairperson of the Foundation, Jessie was technically his boss. A fact that delineated the gulf between them. Princess and commoner.
His team was setting up the screen. Arshia had refused to attend the event, citing a migraine. So it was up to him to ensure that there weren’t any mishaps. Aryan left the girls to catch up and joined his team.
But he couldn’t keep his mind off Jessie, especially after he saw Deep at her heels all evening. When he saw the bastard put his arm around Jessie’s waist, he forgot what he was saying right in the middle of his speech, and had to take a few seconds to collect his thoughts. Jessie stared at him as if she knew why he had stopped speaking.
