Chapter Four
Chapter
Four
“If we needed to talk about feelings, they would be called ‘talkings.’?”
—Nick Miller, New Girl
Veer’s mom didn’t miss the wide smile on his face at the dinner table. As she ladled chicken curry onto his plate, she asked, “Kanna, you look happy. Had a good day at work?”
He nodded and tried to tone down his excitement by biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I did.”
“This can’t be about work,” Arjun piped up, waving his stubby finger in the air. “Nobody gets so happy about work. This has to be about someone special.”
Mom let out a loud gasp and set the bowl of curry down, taking her own seat at the head of the table. “Veer! Is this true? You’ve found yourself a wife?”
“Oh, shut up, Arjun.” Veer had a bite of the chicken curry and rotis and sighed in appreciation at Mom’s finger-licking-good cooking. “I paid your college fees today and got the email confirmation. I’m happy about that.”
Somehow, the admissions department had accepted the first deposit for now, the exact amount Harsha paid him, and confirmed Arjun’s admission to BII. They made Veer sign an undertaking, though, that if he couldn’t make all the payments on time, if he missed even one, his brother’s admission would be revoked immediately. No refunds.
Veer wouldn’t let that happen, obviously.
“Fantastic!” Arjun jumped in his seat as though he were a ten-year-old getting ice cream after dinner. “So the loan application went through? It’s all final?”
“Yep,” he lied smoothly. “They’d have sent you your class schedule and housing details by now. Why don’t you take a look after dinner?
“I will.” Arjun grinned. “Oh my god, two more weeks. I can’t wait.”
Mom wiped a tear from her eye, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “You both make me so proud, every single day. You’ll set such great examples for your own children someday, despite your father—”
Veer’s jaw clenched. “Let’s eat, Mom. Food’s getting cold.”
Arjun looked down at his plate, while Mom let out a huff. They ate their meal in silence, although Veer’s thoughts were a jumbled mess. Dad didn’t deserve any space in Veer’s life. He’d lost that right when he walked out on them twelve years ago with zero explanations, and yet, here he was, ruining the mood during their family dinner, years after the divorce. Mom still wore her wedding ring to keep up appearances and not be seen as a single mother in society, which broke Veer’s heart. She also talked about Dad every now and then, an undercurrent of betrayal and hurt in her words, but Veer refused to engage in those conversations.
He finished dinner and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Arjun looked like he wanted to talk, but Veer shook his head, kissed his mother on the cheek, and headed to his own apartment one floor above. The proximity was at times annoying, especially when he brought a woman back to his place, but it was nice to have his favorite people living so close to him. Family was everything.
Veer had put his phone away for charging on his bedside table. Now he unlocked it to a barrage of notifications, all from Harsha.
Harsha:
Can we meet at a café tomorrow around 9 am to figure out all the details? Do you know a good place?
That was an hour ago, after which came a flood of texts spaced a few minutes apart.
Hello?
Are you ignoring me?
You better not ghost me. I’ve paid you!
And I know where you work!
That last one was from mere seconds ago. Veer laughed and texted back, Oh my god relax. I was having dinner with my family
Oh okay. Tomorrow then?
Veer:
Fine, let’s meet at Fourth Wave Coffee on MG Road
See you then
As Veer got into bed and pulled the covers over himself, he found himself regretting what he’d done. He was taking five hundred thousand rupees from a woman he barely knew, all the while sacrificing his morals and even risking his job.
But he had no way to pay Arjun’s tuition without this opportunity, so he couldn’t back out now.
Was he even a good actor? What if he didn’t live up to Harsha’s expectations? She would only pay him the installments if he did a good job. What if he couldn’t? Sure, he’d dated women before. But he’d never been in love, not once in twenty-seven years. Would four semesters of acting school make this charade work? Would he be good enough to impress Harsha’s uncle and finally make it in Bollywood?
He was about to turn off the lights and go to sleep when his doorbell rang. Veer shuffled out of bed, stifling a yawn, and opened the front door to find Arjun standing in his pajamas with a sheepish smile on his face. “Hey. Just wanted to talk for a bit.”
“Sure.” Veer led the way to the couch and sat beside his brother. “Did you get the email from your college?”
At Arjun’s nod, Veer’s shoulders sank with relief. “Yeah,” Arjun said. “I’ve got some great professors. I’ll have my own room, and they’ve assigned a second-year student to show me around campus, some guy named Salman. But…” He shuffled his feet, biting hislip.
“Arjun. What is it?”
“I could have taken the loan in my own name. You didn’t have to.”
Veer exhaled. Because he had been running short on time, he had filed all the loan applications in his own name, not Arjun’s. Good thing, too, because otherwise the banks would have contacted Arjun about the status of the loan application sooner or later, and this humongous lie wouldn’t have worked out.
So he patted his brother’s shoulder and said, “I’m taking care of it. You should focus on studying and getting a well-paying job after you graduate.”
Arjun laughed. “You’re a great brother. The best, really. But be kind to yourself too. Not just me and Mom.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well…” Arjun shrugged. “You encouraged me to apply to the best business schools around the country, but you didn’t hesitate to quit acting in Mumbai and come back, as though your dreams aren’t as important as mine.”
Veer’s insides squirmed. “No, I quit because I’m a bad actor and a great barista. You’ve had my coffee, haven’t you?” He ruffled Arjun’s hair and forced himself to grin. “Now let me sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”
Arjun didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Veer mumbled as his brother closed the front door, his footsteps receding. With a slow exhale, he went back to bed and ran a hand across his face, hoping this arrangement would work in his favor.
Harsha sat at a corner table at Fourth Wave Coffee and gave the hair elastic on her wrist a gentle tug. It was only 9:05, and she’d already finished most of her vanilla latte (which wasn’t half as delicious as Sunstag’s). She picked up the fifteen-page document she’d created for today’s meeting, flipping through it and rereading the contract—a basic non-disclosure agreement template she found online—and the questionnaire that ranged from “How many siblings do you have?” to “What’s your biggest regret in life?” Harsha only hoped Veer would be willing to open up to her.
Speaking of Veer, where was he? She was typing out a text to him when he walked through the café doors, dressed in a printed cartoon T-shirt and jeans, tucking his car keys into his pocket. Harsha craned her neck to spot a faded blue car parked by the side of the street that had definitely seen better days.
“Hey,” he said, no sign of a smile on his face. He sat down across from her, interlacing his fingers, and raised a brow. “So? How do we do this?”
Harsha’s mouth was dry. She took a hasty gulp of her latte. “Do you want to order something, or…?”
“I’ll have a coffee at Sunstag during my shift later. Let’s get down to it.”
“Right.” She slowly slid the document and a pen over to him, exhaling. “The contract is on the first page.”
Veer looked from the document to her, his forehead wrinkled, then carefully perused the one-page agreement. His eyes homed in on one line, and Harsha knew which one it was before he opened his mouth. “?‘Weekly get-to-know-each-other dates’? Is that really necessary?”
“How can we pretend to be madly in love without knowing everything about each other?” she countered.
“Madly in love?” He scoffed. “We’ve only been ‘together’ for three months.”
She pursed her lips. “Love has no timeline, you cynic.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. And what’s this?” He jabbed a finger at the next point, his eyes steely. “Intimacy practice?”
“I don’t mean sex,” she clarified. “I mean being comfortable holding hands, hugging, and…other public displays of affection.” When he scoffed, she added, an edge to her voice, “The payments are contingent on your acting skills. Don’t forget that.”
“And yours,” he fired back, gripping the edges of the table. “This isn’t a one-man show.”
She glared at him. “That’s exactly why we need to date each other, so we can both be convincing.”
His eyes narrowed, his knuckles white against the wooden table, and it was only when a barista walked over to clear Harsha’s empty cup that their stare-off ended. Veer’s fingers loosened, and he nodded, returning to the document to peruse the rules Harsha had carefully laid down:
Kisses allowed only on the cheek or forehead
Posting on social media about each other, weekly
Liking/commenting on everything the other person shares
No telling ANYONE that this is fake, ever
Separate beds when we travel
As Veer read the rules, his jaw tightened, and Harsha let out a soft exhale. For how long was he going to be mad at her? Gone was the cute, funny barista she’d known for the past three months, replaced by a scowling fake boyfriend.
The rest of the terms were clear: the duration of the contract, the mandatory events, and the payment plan—things they’d already discussed. Veer took the pen with shaking fingers and signed the contract. She followed suit, then held her hand out.
He shook it with his own, the movement slow. His large palm was warm and callused against her cool, smooth skin. When their eyes locked, Harsha cursed herself for the trickle of heat that went down to her core. Focus.
Next, she showed him the questionnaire they would interview each other with.
Veer frowned at some of the prompts. “These questions are too personal.”
“Nothing is off-limits in a real relationship, right?”
He stood up, pushing his chair back with a small, defeated creak. “In that case, I do need coffee.”
She tried not to laugh.
Once he was back with his filter coffee, they went through the rest of the document, in which Harsha had already printed out some study notes for him. It included not just details of their fake relationship, but also basic information about her: hobbies and interests; favorite movies and songs; names of her friends, exes, and family members…
Veer squinted at the page. “You have a lot of cousins. Ah, there’s Neha.” His body stiffened as his eyes fell on Harsha’s uncle’s name. Madhusudan Godbole. She held her breath, knowing what was to come. Most people went straight into crazed fan mode. Her uncle was the biggest director in Bollywood, and Veer had gone to acting school. But all he said was “I really hate his movies.”
Harsha wrinkled her nose. “Well, my boyfriend loves them.” She took the document from him and turned to the page titled Relationship History . “In fact, our second date was at the movies watching Dil Se Delhi, Mann Se Mumbai . You even teared up during the big kiss in the pouring rain.”
He chuckled dryly, the sound echoing in the café, empty this early in the morning. “Your boyfriend’s a romantic, isn’t he?”
“Of course he is. I like to think we all are, deep down.”
“Well”—he shrugged, picking up his coffee mug—“I’m not.”
Harsha waited for him to elaborate on that. Now would have been a good time for him to share something about his past dating life. Instead, he looked through the detailed bullet points of their “love story,” from their first interaction at Sunstag to the development of their relationship over the past three months. “You remember how we met,” he said quietly, setting the mug down.
“Of course.” She smirked. “That was the beginning of your silly drink joke. It made for an interesting meet-cute, so I put it in there.”
Veer’s mouth curled into a soft smile beneath his beard. It was the first time he’d smiled at her in days, but why had she only just noticed how cute and warm and sweet it was?
Harsha’s belly swooped. She licked her lips and turned to the next page. “Let’s ask each other the interview questions now.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, but the smile remained.
She resisted the urge to grin back. “First things first: favorite color?”
“Black,” he answered.
“So typical.” Harsha made a face. “Mine’s—”
“Red?”
Her mouth fell open. “How did you know that?”
Veer’s face turned the deepest shade of her favorite color. “You wear red often, your tote bag is red…” He paused to gulp his coffee, then set the half-full mug down, giving her mouth a split-second glance. “And, uh, the daily red lipstick.”
“Right.” Harsha cleared her throat and moved on to the next set of questions: from his go-to comfort film (the 2010s Bollywood hit Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara ) and his drink of choice (craft beer) to his closest friends (Deepika and Raunak).
“What about your family?” she asked, resting her pen on the page. “What are they like?”
He rubbed the back of his head, leaning away from her in his seat. “They’re nice.”
Harsha held back a groan. Great. The walls were coming back up. “Nice, and…?”
Veer’s eyes closed for a brief moment before he said, “My mom and brother live one floor below me. They’re my favorite people in the world.”
She held her breath. “And your dad?”
Veer’s gaze shifted to his cup of coffee. He picked it up, sighed, and put it down again without taking a sip. “My father walked out on us twelve years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Harsha’s shoulders slumped. “So your folks are divorced?”
Veer nodded. “Yeah, and we haven’t heard from him since then. He must be living with some other woman now. Maybe even has kids he actually gives a shit about.”
As messed up as Harsha’s relationship with her parents was, it couldn’t compare to this. She put a tentative hand on Veer’s. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
He gently pushed her hand away and folded his own in his lap. “It’s fine. My mom’s the best, and so is my brother. We don’t need anyone else.”
“I always wanted siblings.” She smiled softly. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Where does he work?”
“He’s still a student.”
“Nice.” Harsha licked her lips, perusing the questionnaire. “So…when was your last relationship?”
Veer pushed the coffee aside and rested his arms on the table. “Ended late last year. Dated her for a couple of months.”
“Did you love her?” she asked.
His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. “No.”
“Why did you break up?”
“I don’t do relationships longer than three months.” He looked out of the window, at the dark clouds forming in the sky, his throat bobbing. Harsha was hoping to probe further until he stood up. “It’s gonna rain. I should leave early for my shift so I don’t get stuck in traffic.”
She knew his shift wasn’t for another two hours, but she tried not to let her disappointment show and handed him the document. “Go through the rest of my notes a few times and fill out the blank spaces with your answers before our next meeting.”
He shook his head and tucked the pages under his arm. “I didn’t think I’d be doing homework as a twenty-seven-year-old.”
“And I didn’t think I’d be giving someone fake dating assignments, but here we are.”
A slow smile peeked out from his lips, the smallest of cracks in his defenses. “When do we meet again?” he asked.
She thought about her schedule—not that she had any major commitments to consider, what with her fledgling business and her lack of close friends in the city. “Tomorrow? We should go shopping for your new wardrobe.”
Veer looked down at his graphic T-shirt and faded jeans. “Why, what’s wrong with my clothes?”
“For the anniversary party,” she clarified, although she wouldn’t have minded if he never wore that kind of shirt again. “And we can have our first fake date a few days after that.”
His lips puckered. “All right,” he finally said.
After he left, Harsha sat back in her chair, resting her head against the wall and mulling over their conversation. Veer was so guarded, his body stiffening after the most basic questions every couple in love ought to ask each other. The party was three weeks away. She would have to find a way to peel back Veer’s layers and figure out the vulnerabilities of the man beneath the charming, goofy barista exterior.
And the way things were going right now, that would be more challenging than pulling off this ruse altogether.