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“Like this,” she said, scooping up a spoonful and shoving it into her mouth happily. “Now, if you’re done being judgmental, can we talk about your plans for the day? We still need to get you some clothes for the sangeet, Jessie.”
Nooo! I wanted to spend my whole day with Aryan, not stuck in some designer’s lair, having pins stuck into me. But Ma and Nivy overrode my protests and dragged me shopping after breakfast.
They oohed and aahed over the clothes, but I stared at the jewel-coloured lehengas unseeingly as I waited for Aryan to call. He hadn’t said he’d call in the morning, and I knew that he was probably busy in the OPD. Still, he could have texted to say good morning. It wasn’t rocket science. All you had to do was wiggle your thumb over the screen for a few seconds, and bam! You’d have made someone’s day.
“Jessie, how do you like this one?” asked Nivy.
“It’s great, Ma” I replied absently.
She swatted me on the back of my head.
“I’m not your mother! Stop obsessing over my brother and pick an outfit fast,” she hissed.
“He said he would call. Why hasn’t he called yet?” I wailed softly.
Nivy dragged me over to the sofa in one corner of the store and sat me down.
“He’s probably busy, Jess. Look, if it’s so important, why don’t you call him?”
“No! I don’t want him to think I’m desperate,” I cried.
“Then wait for him to call. Just stop moping,” she ordered sternly.
I sighed and pulled out my phone. This was the twenty-first century. There was no shame in a girl calling a guy. It wasn’t desperate. It was proactive.
“Jessie, it’s almost lunchtime. Pick out a lehenga quickly, and I’ll take you girls out for lunch,” said my mother.
The designer’s assistants held up four outfits that Ma and Nivy had picked, and I did a quick mental eeny-meeny-miny-moe before pointing to the yellow one. I left them to deal with the payment and walked out of the store to call Aryan.
The phone rang for so long that I began to feel like an idiot, but he answered just before I hung up.
“Hey,” I said hesitantly. “Are you free to talk?”
“I’m slightly busy now. But I’ll call you in the evening,” he replied softly.
“All right,” I replied, and hung up.
Aryan had sounded distracted. The poor man was probably up to his neck in sick babies, and I had to go and disturb him for no good reason. I just hoped he got time to grab a quick bite.
Ma and Nivy came out of the store with the designer’s assistants trailing them, bags in hand.
“Let’s go, girls. There’s this new Asian place at the Taj that does the best Baos that I’ve ever eaten,” said Ma.
“When did you go there?”
“I hosted my Kitty there last month,” she said proudly.
Wow! My mother had a more happening social life than I did. When did that happen, I wondered, as I followed her into the car.
The maître d’ showed us to Ma’s favourite table and poured us some Jasmine tea. As I sipped, I looked around, taking in the new decor. And then, my eyes fell on a table by the window on the other side of the room. I set my cup down with trembling hands as I realised why Aryan was too busy to talk to me.
The lying bastard was having lunch with Arshia and her family.
“Nivy, isn’t that your mother? And Aryan?” asked Ma, following my gaze.
Nivy yelped as she realised what was happening, and shot me an alarmed look.
I gritted my teeth and stared at Aryan militantly.
