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I turned to him in surprise.
“How did you know…?”
He rolled his eyes and I threw a bun at his head. I was so done with people rolling their eyes at me.
“At this point, I think even Munshi Ji knows,” he replied, picking up the bun and taking a big bite.
“No way!”
If that was true, I was screwed. Munshi Ji was my mother’s eyes and ears in the palace. Whatever he knew, she knew, as well. But if she did, why the hell had she sent me on a date with Yash?
“Why are the two of you dawdling over breakfast? The guests have started arriving,” barked my mother, sounding like a drill sergeant.
I hurried to my room to get ready for the function. The wedding planner had decorated the whole palace with garlands of marigolds, and vases full of white orchids. She had pulled out all the crystal and porcelain vases from the old storerooms, and it seemed like might have borrowed some from the neighbouring princely states because I didn’t even know that we owned so many vases.
The haldi was held in the garden, and Veer was ready and waiting, eager to be coated with haldi. My mother beckoned me over to introduce me to the other guests, and I walked over halfheartedly. While I was happy for my brother, it was very difficult to show that joy. All I could think of was Aryan and his insistence on believing the worst about me.
I snuck a look at my phone, and my mother leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Put that thing away before I throw it in the palace pond,” she hissed.
I complied hastily, tucking it back into my little potli. He still hadn’t called to apologise. Sure, I had hung up on him, but that was because I hadn’t wanted to say something I’d regret later. Although, it was also because I didn’t want to hear him tell me - yet again - how we were better off apart.
I had thought that he’d cool off and realise that he’d been a prize ass, and then he’d call me back. And after I made him apologise about a million times, I’d relent, and we’d sneak out to the Shikar Bari in the tiny window between the haldi and the mehendi. But the bastard hadn’t even initiated the first step of the making-up sequence.
I smiled valiantly through Veer’s haldi, smearing the gross yellow paste on his ugly face with relish, because heartbreak or no heartbreak, I couldn’t miss this opportunity to torture my brother. And then I posed happily for a selfie, posting it on Instagram right away to show anyone who might be watching that I was happy as a clam.
My phone pinged with texts from Nivy. She had sent me pictures of the function at their end, and to my fury, there was a picture of Aryan smiling down at Arshia as she crouched next to Nivy. What the hell was that witch doing at the haldi, which was an intimate function limited to close friends and family? And why the hell was he smiling at her?
It hadn’t taken too long for the rat to replace me, from the looks of it. Well, two could play at this game, I decided.
I hailed a waiter and grabbed two glasses of champagne off his tray.
Then, I made my way over to where Yash was holding court. I elbowed the women crowding around him and handed him a glass.
“Come on! Time for a photoshoot,” I announced.
I handed my phone to one of Yash’s groupies, and we posed with our glasses of champagne. I even made him link arms with me as we sipped. And when that turned out to be the best picture of the whole lot, I posted it on Instagram. And sent the whole batch of pics to Nivy.
“Why are you going to such lengths to prove a point?” murmured Yash.
I looked up from my phone in shock. Sometimes, his astuteness took me by surprise because it was the last thing one would expect from a pampered playboy.
“I’m not proving any point,” I protested.
“So, you really want the world to think that there’s something between us? And by ‘world’, I mean a certain pig-headed doctor,” he clarified.
I exhaled heavily, feeling about as mature as a six-year-old. And I also remembered that Yash was hung up on someone. It wasn’t fair to him to mess with that.
“That was a dick move. I’m sorry,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder.
He put his arm around me and led me back into the crowd. And that’s when I saw Aryan. Standing at the edge of the crowd. Staring at Yash and me inscrutably.
* * *
ARYAN
He felt like an absolute fool. Which moron leaves his sister’s haldi to show up at the groom’s function like a lovesick stalker?
