Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter
Twenty-six
“If you’re not scared, then you’re not taking a chance. And if you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are you doing anyway?”
—Ted Mosby, How I Met Your Mother
Veer went straight to his mother’s apartment. He unlocked the door with his spare key and walked inside, exhaling loudly.
Mom muted the television and raced over to him, grabbing his hands. “Veer! What happened? How did it go?”
He looked away, rubbing his forehead, trying to heighten the suspense as his mother paled. Then, when he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he squeezed her fingers and said, “I GOT IT!”
Mom screamed, cupping his face. “Oh my god! My prayers worked! Tell me all about it! Wait, let’s call Arjun too.”
Veer video called his brother, who picked up immediately and said, “I’m studying for an exam with Salman, can we talk later—” He paused when he saw Mom’s and Veer’s matching grins. “Wait, what’s going on?”
Veer took a deep breath, then said, “Guess who’s going to be a secondary actor in Kunal Jowar’s new Netflix sitcom?”
Arjun gasped, then jumped up and down, pumping the air with his other fist. “Holy fu— I mean, wow! That’s fantastic! How did this happen?”
“I thought you were studying,” Veer said, laughing.
“This has been a long time coming for you,” Arjun declared, sitting down at his desk again. “Schoolwork can wait.”
Veer gave his mom and brother a full play-by-play of the audition, pausing every now and then to hear their reactions. Mom gasped when she heard the lead actress’s name. “Get me her autograph!” she exclaimed.
“Or invite her home to try Mom’s chicken. I bet she’d love it,” Arjun said, which made Mom scream with excitement.
Finally, over half an hour later, and after a much-needed virtual dance party, Arjun’s eyes flitted to somewhere above the phone. “Okay, I’m officially behind on studying,” he announced. “Let’s catch up soon?”
“Of course,” Veer said. He started to hang up when Mom stopped him.
“Kanna,” she said into the phone, “is your…friend still there? Salman?”
Arjun shifted in place, pulling on the front of his shirt. “Um, yes. He is.”
Mom smiled softly. “Tell him I say hello.”
“I…I will,” he replied, shock registering on his face. “Bye, guys.”
Veer ended the call and gave his mother a hug. “Thank you for coming around.”
She nodded against his cheek and patted his back. “He’s my son.”
He grinned, then stood up. His phone buzzed three times: his banking app. Frowning, he checked his phone, then gasped. “Shit,” he whispered.
“What is it?” Mom asked, peering at the screen with him.
Someone had just deposited a hundred and seventy thousand rupees—the final amount—in his account. Judging by the notification, it was from Harsha’s personal account.
“Return it,” Mom said, waving her hand. “We have the alimony.”
Veer hesitated. “Let me talk to Harsha first.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and went upstairs to his apartment. Harsha didn’t pick up the phone, so he sat down on his couch and texted her: I’ve received the amount. Thank you so much and I’m so sorry for leaving like I did.
He waited a few minutes, but she was still offline. Maybe her phone was on silent. Veer sighed, then decided he couldn’t wait around for her to reply. He needed to do something—maybe not a grand gesture, but a meaningful one. He combed through his camera app until he found the photo he was looking for, then he opened Instagram, grinning.
Harsha sat in one of the pouf chairs in the lobby, dressed in casual clothes again now that the reception had wound down, as she edited the wedding photos. Neha was supposed to be on her way to meet her here before she left for the honeymoon.
Biting her lip, Harsha clicked over to the next photo, which was from the ceremony. Neha and Rohan looked beautiful in the moonlight, and their love for each other was palpable even through the pictures, their faces aglow as they walked around the holy fire. She tinkered with the contrast and the brightness, thinking back to the other photographer’s style.
The next picture was a candid one from the reception. Rohan stood tall, his arm around a grinning Neha, as Uncle Madhu laughed at something Aunt Pinky was saying beside him. What a beautiful family they made. Harsha knew now that she would never have a wedding like this with her parents by her side—because she didn’t want them there anymore.
Her family wasn’t necessarily who she shared DNA with. It was who stuck around, in both the good times and bad, even if they were going through their own battles.
Harsha played with her backup hair elastic, her thoughts drifting to Veer. He had texted her just as she got to the lobby, but she didn’t know what to say to him. He was right; she would always have influence and connections no matter how “independent” she wanted to be—and she didn’t know what she could say to him after the difficult situation she had put him in this morning. Her shame wouldn’t let her.
“Hey.”
Harsha turned and nodded at Neha. “Sit with me? I’m editing the photos.”
Neha was dressed in a comfortable T-shirt and pajama shorts. Her hair was wet and her face was free of makeup. She must have just taken a shower. She took the seat next to Harsha’s and peered at the screen. “That’s a nice picture,” she said, then took control of the laptop without asking. “Can I see the rest?”
“Go ahead,” Harsha said, knowing Neha didn’t need her permission.
Neha swiped through the gallery, mumbling to herself and going back and forth between photos. She paused at a picture where her face was drawn in a fierce scowl. Chuckling, Neha asked, “Is this from our argument?”
Harsha tried not to laugh too. “It is.”
Neha continued clicking through the pictures until she got to one of Veer sipping his beer and looking right at the camera. Harsha’s belly swooped at how handsome he looked in that suit. “I’m sorry, Neha,” she said.
“For what?”
Harsha put a gentle hand on Neha’s arm. “For lying to all of you for so long about Veer, and for…well, for stealing your thunder, if the truth did that in any way.”
Neha laughed derisively. “Don’t worry, it’s only my folks and yours who know. Besides, maybe this is karma for me wearing the same color as you at your sweet sixteenth.”
“So you did do that on purpose?” Harsha exclaimed, then huffed out a breath. “Never mind. That’s not important anymore.”
“I know I was being mean that day, when I first met Veer,” she admitted, “but I was just so angry seeing you there with your boyfriend, so carefree after changing your plans last-minute. I mean, you moved to Bangalore and didn’t even text me. You looked like you had the perfect life…without us.”
Harsha almost burst out laughing. Neha—with the fancy UN job who married the rich surgeon and had only love from her family—was saying this? “Excuse me?” she said. “My life is anything but perfect.”
“I respect you a lot, Harshu,” Neha said. The nickname made Harsha’s heart clench. Neha hadn’t called her that since they were kids. She exhaled, staring at the intricate mural painted over their heads in the lobby. “You’ve always done things your way. You traveled the world—with my mother!—instead of going to college right away. You turned a hobby into a career, and you’re so good at it. And you found someone who loves you, on your own terms.”
“But—”
Neha held out a hand, her diamond ring glinting sharply. “Let me finish. I, on the other hand, got my college degree, found a respectable job that I’ll have to quit because my new family wants to turn me into a socialite—oh, and my husband works twenty-hour shifts at the hospital, so I’ll be stuck going to parties with my mother-in-law who secretly hates me. All this while I’ll watch from the sidelines as you and my mom become besties. How does that sound?”
“Oh.” Harsha bit her lip. “I…I didn’t know about any of this.”
They sat in silence for a minute, until Harsha’s laptop screen faded to black. Her throat tightened. She had never considered that Neha’s dislike of her stemmed from insecurity. In her eyes, Neha had always been the ideal daughter.
“I’m sorry,” Harsha repeated. “For what it’s worth, I’ve envied you my whole life too.”
Neha wiped a tear with a shaky finger. “We could have been sisters. Instead, we’ve been enemies.”
Harsha deliberated saying it, then decided she might as well: “Well, we’re still young. Maybe we can be…friends. If not sisters just yet.”
“I’d like that.” Neha reached for a hug, and they held each other tight, both shaking with sobs. When they pulled apart, Neha asked, “So what are you going to do about Veer? Mom told me he left?”
Harsha rubbed her wet nose. “I don’t know. If it weren’t for Aunt Pinky bailing me out, I would have ruined his brother’s future.” She sighed.
Neha shot her an admonishing look. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She jerked her head back. “What?”
“That man loves you.” Neha swept some hair off her shoulder. “It was obvious to me since the anniversary party. Even Rohan doesn’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
Neha smiled sadly. “Like he can’t believe you exist and he gets to hold you in his arms.”
Harsha clutched the arms of the chair tightly. “It all started because he needed the money—”
“So?” Neha raised an eyebrow at her. “He might have done this”—she gestured to the room they were in—“for whatever financial reasons, but he fell in love with you along the way.”
“I just can’t—”
“You can’t,” Neha said slowly, “or you’re just scared of what comes next?” As Harsha opened her mouth, Neha went on. “And sure, your fears are valid. Our families are fucked up. And this is a weird way to start a relationship. But so what? If you love him, and he loves you, why can’t you at least try to make a real relationship work?”
“Neha—”
“Why are you letting your parents win a fight they shouldn’t even be part of?”
Harsha closed her mouth. She didn’t want to admit it, but Neha had sparked a small, hopeful flame inside of her.
“Go back home,” Neha said, getting up, “and tell him how you feel. I promise he’ll say it back. If he doesn’t, I’ll buy you another bag. A better one this time.”
That got a laugh out of Harsha. She stood up too, shutting the lid of her laptop. “I have my eye on a Dior tote bag,” she said. “It’ll cost you a fortune.”
“Don’t count on it,” Neha fired back, “because you’re going to have your big rom-com moment. And I hate to admit it, but you deserve it.”
After giving Neha another tight hug, Harsha went back to her room, packing her things and wheeling her suitcase to the exit, where Uncle Madhu had thankfully arranged for a car to drive her back to Bangalore.
As she sat in the back seat, mulling over Neha’s words, she noticed a new Instagram notification. She’d been tagged in a photo. Frowning, she opened the app.
“Wow,” she breathed. It was a selfie Veer had clicked in the Mumbai local train, exactly like the picture he’d painted for her during their Saturday spent with Sasha. Veer’s stretched lips were pressed to her curly hair, mirroring her soft, sleepy smile. Until this very moment, Harsha hadn’t realized people could smile in their sleep. Or was it only because she was resting on his shoulder that she had looked so safe and secure? Sunlight streamed from the open window onto their faces, highlighting the honey undertones in Veer’s warm brown eyes that were fixed on her.
There was no caption under the photo. Her fingers clicked the Like icon before she even realized it.
Seconds later, Veer sent her another text, though she hadn’t replied to the earlier ones: Meet me at Sunstag when you’re back? I’ll be locking up tonight .
Smiling, Harsha texted back, See you soon , her fingers jittery with her eagerness. She would do it. She would storm into Sunstag and tell him she loved him in front of the entire café, all risks and lies forgotten. It would either be the big rom-com gesture Neha had talked about…or the biggest mistake of her life.
She couldn’t wait to find out.