Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter
Twenty-five
“You are perched on the precipice of a dream come true, and you can jump knowing, possibly for the first time ever, that you can achieve anything to which you put your mind.”
—Moira Rose, Schitt’s Creek
Harsha sat on the tiled floor of the suite’s bathroom, crying into her knees for the first half hour after Veer left. The next hour, she paced around the hotel room, trying to come up with a plan.
How could things have gone from picture-perfect to devastating in a matter of hours? This morning, she’d woken up deciding to dive headfirst into love and let her heart win, like Sasha had said. But now? Their relationship was more complicated than ever, with the broken promise of money hanging between them.
She had to get her hands on the remaining amount, but how? She had a couple of gigs lined up, but the next one wasn’t for a week, Neha had already paid her in full, and her past gigs hadn’t earned her enough to cover the final payment.
She called Sasha, hoping for advice, and thankfully, after a ten-minute cry session, her best friend had an idea ready for her. “Well, when I’m short on cash, I try to sell off something of mine,” Sasha said. “Do you have anything you could part with easily?”
“I might…” Harsha’s eyes fell on her Gucci tote bag, and she swallowed. Well, there’s an idea. “Thanks, S. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Within minutes, Harsha had created an account on eBay and put the bag up for sale. She refreshed her email over and over, tears still streaming down her face, hoping she would find an interested buyer before Monday.
It was only when an agitated Neha called, reminding Harsha that it was time for the pre-reception wedding shoot, that she washed her face, grabbed her camera, and went down to the lobby.
She would have to figure out another way to get back to Bangalore after the reception, but it was fine; for the first time, she had no desire to go back to the place she now knew was home. She’d lived in Mumbai and Berkeley longer than anywhere else, but they had never felt like home—no city or town truly had until Veer made Bangalore her happy place. She’d thought the fake relationship was the line that fixed the before/after of her life, but it was right now: the gut-wrenching realization that the love she thought Veer reciprocated for her wasn’t enough for them to make it. That he didn’t hesitate before leaving once she told him she couldn’t pay him. That he hadn’t even stopped to kiss her or tell her he loved her, choosing instead to walk away from her. That if she didn’t fix this, she might lose him forever.
“Sorry I’m late!” Harsha said, putting on her best fake-cheery voice as she approached the outdoor venue where Rohan and Neha, dressed in matching royal blue wedding outfits, stood waiting. They frowned when they saw her.
“Have you been crying?” Rohan asked, then bit his lip when Neha elbowed him.
“I’m fine!” Harsha exclaimed despite knowing it was futile. If her new cousin-in-law, who’d barely said twenty words to her this whole time, could tell something was off, then she was clearly not as good an actor as she’d thought.
Neha sized her up. “Let’s get this over with quickly. You’re going to need a lot of time—and makeup—to look presentable for the reception.”
Harsha tried not to make a face at her cousin and instead focused the lens of her camera. Neha and Rohan did some fake-candid poses for her, including the classic “bride throws her head back mid-laugh while the groom looks at her with love in his eyes” and the ever-popular “they’re seconds away from kissing but not really kissing because, well, it’s an Indian wedding.”
Half an hour later, Aunt Pinky approached. “Neha, your father needs you. Is the shoot done?”
Neha looked to Harsha, who nodded. “Rohan, let’s go.”
They thanked her and headed toward the lobby. Harsha, meanwhile, opened her phone and refreshed her eBay notifications, which were blank. Shit. Now that there was nothing to distract her, her eyes misted again.
“I’ll see you at the reception, Auntie,” she said, starting to walk away.
“Wait.” Aunt Pinky grabbed her by the arm. “Can I join you in your room? I think we need to talk.” At Harsha’s confused look, she added, “About Veer.”
Harsha’s belly churned. Papa must have told Aunt Pinky the truth. How many people had he told? Did it even matter?
Once they got to her room, Aunt Pinky sat down on the bed and patted the comforter. “Sit. We have a lot to discuss.”
Harsha joined her reluctantly, wiping her sweaty palms on the front of her jeans. “Does Neha know too?”
Aunt Pinky nodded. “Your father told us an hour ago. Just when I thought there wouldn’t be any drama at an Indian wedding for once…tell me this, beta”—she took Harsha’s hand in hers—“what were you thinking, hiring Veer to…” She exhaled. “I can’t even say it. What a preposterous idea. How is your life so chaotic, Harshu?”
If it had been any other day, Harsha would have laughed. “I wish I knew. I’d just gotten dumped, Neha saw him with me and assumed he was my boyfriend, and I just…went along with it. I didn’t feel like I had any other choice.”
Aunt Pinky’s eyes shone. “You always have a choice. You’re a Godbole.”
Veer’s words echoed in her mind: I don’t blame you for not understanding. He was right. No matter how much she ran away from her family, her roots, and her generational wealth, she would always be a Godbole. Her last name alone could make things happen for her, if she allowed it.
“Where is Veer now?” Aunt Pinky frowned as she looked around at the room. “Did he leave?”
Harsha rehashed the events of the morning to her aunt. Aunt Pinky sat back, processing everything, then said, “So you didn’t pay him yet?”
“I don’t have the money,” Harsha whispered. She jutted her head toward her Gucci bag, lying on top of her suitcase. “I put my tote bag up on eBay an hour ago. Hopefully, I find a buyer before Monday—that’s the deadline for his brother’s tuition fees.”
Aunt Pinky got up and picked up the tote bag. “May I?” she asked.
“Uh…sure?”
She inspected the bag, running her fingers along the beige canvas and the Gucci logo, then picked it up and slung it over a shoulder. “I like it,” she declared. “How much are you selling it for?”
Wait…what? Harsha stayed in place, gripping the edges of the bed. “Auntie, you don’t need to buy a secondhand bag, you can afford—”
Smiling, Aunt Pinky put the bag down and leaned over Harsha, her hands on her shoulders. “You will never forget your roots, Harsha. But I won’t forget mine, either.” She pulled back, folding her arms across her chest. “I was a hairstylist at a small salon in Juhu before I met your uncle. I could barely afford an unbranded secondhand tote bag, forget this.”
Harsha nodded. She hesitated, then showed Aunt Pinky the eBay listing. “The original price of the bag is close to the amount of money I owe Veer, so that’s what I’m charging.”
“What a coincidence.” Aunt Pinky smiled softly. “It’s funny how destiny works, huh?”
“Bullshit.” Harsha scoffed. “Destiny screwed me over the minute Neha walked into that bar after I got dumped. If I could turn back time and undo everything, I would.”
“I wouldn’t agree,” she replied. “You and Veer fell for each other because of that coincidence. How can you regret that?”
Harsha waved her hand in front of her face, staving off more tears. “I’m scared that’s over, Auntie. After I send him the payment, I doubt he’ll want anything more to do with me.”
Aunt Pinky shook her head. Clearly, she was still Team Veer. “All right, Harshu. I’m going to purchase that bag from you.” She pinched her on the cheek, smiling. “But in return, I want you to talk to Neha and patch things up with her. She leaves for her honeymoon this evening, and I don’t want her to go to France without having had a chat with you about, well, everything. That fight from yesterday is still weighing on her, and I’m sure this Veer situation is too.”
Harsha swallowed her anxiety and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll talk to her after the reception.”
“Good idea. I’ll see you there.” Aunt Pinky headed to the door.
“Wait,” Harsha said, walking up to her aunt. “I just want to say…thank you, Auntie, for everything.” She held her in a tight embrace, her body sinking with relief when Aunt Pinky hugged her back. “I will never let you down again.”
“No.” Aunt Pinky cupped her face in her hands. “Never let yourself down again.”
Harsha smiled through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I promise.”
Veer refused to let himself cry throughout the drive back home. Harsha never texted him or called to check in, and maybe that was for the best. It gave him space to mull over the events that had transpired since last night.
Now he was gripped with the unsurmountable fear that the final payment would never come, Arjun would lose his admission, and Veer would be resented by his family forever.
In an attempt to distract himself, Veer went through the script for the upcoming audition every time he stopped at a toll booth or in traffic. The sitcom followed a group of friends who’d started their own tech business in Bangalore—India’s Silicon Valley—and the main characters were two queer women in a secret friends-with-benefits relationship that would later turn into true feelings. The dialogue was cheeky and well-written, while the characters were hilariously lifelike.
After Veer parked outside his apartment, he took his suitcase out of the trunk and stood in front of the building, staring mutely at the unit below his. The living room window was open, as was Arjun’s bedroom window. Mom’s silhouette showed through the thin curtains; she was dusting his study table and chair with a feathery cleaning brush.
Forget the audition, he told himself, deciding at the last moment that he couldn’t be alone. Fix this first.
He got out of the lift one floor below his unit, preparing himself. “Mom, I’m back,” he yelled as he unlocked the door with his spare key, wheeling his suitcase inside.
Mom scurried out of his brother’s room, still holding the fluffy cleaning brush. “Veer! Tell me about everything that happened at the wedding!”
Veer sat down on the couch, and Mom followed suit, tapping his knee impatiently. “Did you and Harsha have a nice time? Did she look beautiful?”
“The wedding—Harsha—” He locked eyes with his mother and burst into tears, unable to hold his emotions back any longer.
“Veer!” Mom gasped and took her son in her arms. “Kanna, what happened?”
He couldn’t speak a word amid his sobs; instead, he fell into Mom’s lap and cried. The entirety of last night and this morning played on a loop in his head: that perfect first kiss and their night together, the morning pillow talk, and the final moment that had destroyed everything he’d worked so hard toward—not just for Arjun, but for a future with Harsha.
After a minute or so, Mom grabbed his shoulders and forced him up. “Veer.” She studied him. “Did you and Harsha have a fight?”
Slowly, he nodded.
“What happened? She broke up with you?”
“It’s worse than that,” Veer blurted out softly.
“Tell me everything,” Mom said, and he did. From start to finish: the fake dating contract, falling for Harsha, the audition news, and his failure.
“Arjun’s future is in jeopardy,” Veer blubbered, the tears flowing down his cheeks. “And the worst part is,” he sighed, “I never even got to tell Harsha I love her, that it isn’t just about the money—”
“I know, my baby.” Mom wiped his tears and sniffled too. “But you have to tell her.”
“Mom.” Veer let out an anguished sigh. “Would she believe me after the way I walked out on her?”
“That girl loves you, it’s obvious to me. She’ll understand.”
“I don’t know, Mom…” During the drive back home, Veer had thought of a million ways to confess his feelings—from the grandest of Bollywoodesque gestures to a simple three-word text. But now, with tensions running so high, Harsha could think he was trying to smooth things over only for the money.
And besides, with less than five days until the tuition deadline, he couldn’t think about his feelings for her right now. Not with his family depending on him.
“Look at me.” Mom tugged on his elbow. “Even if she says no, it’ll be the closure you need.” She thought for a minute, then slid her wedding ring off her finger. “I don’t need this anymore. You should give it to Harsha, when you’re ready. Give it a new story.”
“Mom—” Veer started, but she put the ring in his hand and closed his fist around it. She looked away and breathed shakily.
“It’s about time I told you what happened with your father.”
Veer gulped, waiting.
“He cheated, Veer. He fell in love, got some other woman pregnant, asked me for a divorce. And I…refused.” A tear fell down her cheek. “I was terrified. Divorce is a stigma in my generation, and it’s always worse for the woman. But he ran out on us anyway, sent divorce papers in the mail, and that was that.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell us this before?” Veer asked, his mouth dry.
She sighed. “I didn’t have the courage to admit how hurt I was. It seemed easier to ignore it altogether. I’m sorry, that was wrong of me, and if you want to get back in touch with him, you should. He’s still your father.”
Veer opened his fist, looking at the simple diamond-and-gold ring inside. Mom smiled weakly, her eyes on the ring in his hand. “The truth is, sometimes, love fades. I hurt every day knowing I had to break something as sacred as my marriage.”
“This is his fault,” Veer said, placing the ring in between them. “I don’t want anything from him, but Arjun should be able to decide that for himself.”
“Veer,” she said, “you can’t hate him for a mistake he made twelve years ago. I wasn’t the best wife, and he wasn’t the best husband. And…” She sighed. “Maybe I’m not the best mother, either.”
“Are you talking about everything with Arjun?” Veer asked, and his mother responded with a fresh stream of tears.
“Mom…” Veer’s heart broke at how pained his mother looked. “He’s gay. And that’s okay. He’s the same Arjun we love, and if you give him a chance, you’ll love his boyfriend too.”
A tear fell from Mom’s eyes, and she gulped. Her hands came to rest on her knees, and she said with an exhale, “I’ll—I’ll try my best.”
“You’re the best parent,” Veer said firmly. He hugged her, pressing his lips to the top of her frail head. “And don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
When they pulled apart, Mom caressed his cheek and said, “Tell Harsha you love her. Give her the ring, and ask her to marry you.”
“It’s too soon for that,” he said, looking at the small diamond-studded ring. “We’re not in the eighties anymore. But…maybe I could sell it and pay off the remaining tuition?”
Mom’s hands flew to her mouth. “Are you crazy? Don’t you dare sell that! It belongs to your future wife.”
“But Arjun—”
“Veer,” she said, smiling, “I have your father’s alimony stowed in a savings account that I’ve never touched. I was going to use it for both of your weddings. We’ll be okay for now. And after that, we’ll figure it out.”
Veer pocketed the ring. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”
She smiled at him through tear-stained eyes. “I might be hard on you sometimes, but it’s only because I want you to stop compromising on your dreams. Choose Harsha. Choose acting. Choose yourself, kanna.”
He nodded. “Maybe the audition will work out. It’s in an hour.”
Mom planted a kiss on his forehead. “My baby. God always shows his grace in the most unexpected ways. You’re going to get the job.”
He stood up and hugged his mother. She was so short and delicate compared to him—but stronger than he could ever hope to be. “I love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, kanna.” She tugged on his cheek. “Don’t be late. I believe in you; we all do. Just make sure to believe in yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, smiling. “I will.”
An hour later, Veer sat in the waiting room of the casting studio with three other actors, his foot uncontrollably jiggling. Mom’s admission that she had access to alimony to pay Arjun’s tuition had put him at ease financially. He could, very safely, chase his dreams and make it in the film industry.
If he got this role. Which sounded impossible, because when had luck ever worked out for him before? Everything he had achieved had been through sheer hard work, while this opportunity just fell into his lap. Maybe this was his one rare shot at fame. His stomach churned. What if he screwed this up?
He checked his phone to pass the time. His boss at Sunstag had texted asking if he was back yet and whether he could take the eight p.m. shift tonight. He sent back Sure, I’ll be there , knowing the extra money wouldn’t hurt. Deepika and Mom had sent him “best of luck” texts, while Raunak had said, A casting studio is the breeding ground for hot chicks. Go forth and get laid, my man. Veer chuckled dryly. Right now, getting laid was the last thing on his mind. Especially when there was so much left unresolved in his last interaction with Harsha. She hadn’t texted him since, and he wasn’t surprised. He had walked out on her with barely a warning. But he couldn’t think about that right now—one thing at a time.
One by one, the actors went in for their auditions. Veer was third in line. He stepped inside the room and greeted the three casting directors awaiting him.
“All right, Veer,” the female director said, scanning his résumé. “This is Alia.” She gestured to the lead actress, who Veer knew as one of Bollywood’s most popular actresses. This sitcom clearly had pull, despite being set in Bangalore and not Mumbai. He licked his dry lips, suddenly nervous.
“Let’s see it,” another director said.
Veer closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
And then he was Raghav Rathore, the heroine’s brother. The room quieted to a hush as he and Alia delivered their lines. She was a terrific actress, and even Veer had to admit their rapport was undeniably great. The cherry on top was that she, too, joined in on the claps when they were done acting.
“That was good. Very good.” The directors exchanged glances, and then nodded toward the door. “We’ll let you know in a few minutes. Thank you, Veer.”
“Good job.” Alia smiled at him, and he left the room, hoping they hadn’t noticed the sweat stains under his arms. He freshened up in the bathroom and walked back to the waiting room just as the final actor took his seat after his audition.
The four actors sat in silence, each of them green and sickly, until the door opened and a male casting director came out. He looked at them one by one, then smiled at Veer. “Veer, come on in. The rest of you, thank you so much. We have your files on record, and we’ll reach out if there are any other roles to fill.”
A buzzing of sorts filled Veer’s ears. If there are any other roles to fill …implying the role of the brother had been filled. And he was the only one asked to stay. Did that mean—
“Veer,” the director said, shaking his hand, “filming starts later this week, so we have a bit of a time crunch. I know you have a full-time job, but for this role, you’d have to take at least a few months off. That’s our only concern. Are you in?”
Veer bit his lip to keep from whooping with happiness. “I’m in.”