Chapter 24
The interior of the Kashyap townhouse was bathed in the muted golden light that spilled from the chandeliers above, and reflected softly off polished white marble floor.
The foyer gave way to the vast open-plan drawing room.
There was a floral scent in the air from the Cattleya orchids placed in glass vases that were flown in from Brazil.
This home had graced magazine covers and architectural features for decades, hailing it as the epitome of luxury Indian living. But no matter how often this house was praised, it had never truly felt like home to Siya.
All she saw when she looked at the vast round staircase was when as a child, she’d be curled up on the steps, praying her parents would stop fighting.
The tall French windows reminded her how she’d spend hours looking out, hoping her father would come home to them.
She ran her eyes over the massive space and remembered how she’d come home after graduation and found only silence in every corner of the house.
Even now, walking beside Abhay, his palm firmly in place at the small of her back, she felt that old tension in her spine.
She hated how he looked impossibly calm. He was casually dressed in a fitted maroon shirt and navy jeans. His hair was unruly in a way that made her want to reach up and fix it.
She smoothed the front of her lavender chikankari kurti and took a deep breath, telling herself she’ll get through it in one piece.
They stepped past the archway into the drawing room and then she saw her.
Sharda Kashyap sat in a wingback chair, hands resting on the curved armrests like she was presiding over court.
Her silver hair was pulled back in a bun so tight, it often made her wonder if she struggled with headaches.
Her cheekbones remained sharp even in her late seventies, but the frown lines on her forehead had deepened.
Her white cotton saree was starched to a crease, and she always wore it draped in the old Banarasi style of her hometown. Her eyes were angry, looking at her with a disapproving stare.
Siya didn’t realise she’d stopped walking until Abhay flexed his hand on her back. She stepped forward when he did and greeted her. ‘Namaste, Dadi.’
‘You sure took your sweet time in coming here. Don’t you know I take my medication at nine?’ she scolded her sternly.
How could she? Her father had conveniently failed to mention her grandmother would be here too.
Siya felt her pulse skip, and fisted her palm to fight the instinct to recoil. ‘I’m sorry. There was a lot of work to be finalised by today. We lost track of time.’
Sharda hummed. ‘I don’t understand what has happened to the women of this age. None of you seem to understand the value of family time.’
She hadn’t heard her voice in months, but her words still rang in her memory, clear as ever. No decent girl from a good family should work past marriage.
‘It’s good to see you too,’ she said, biting her cheek to tap down her anger.
Abhay guided her to the plush sofa and she took a seat far from Sharda.
Sharda folded her hands in her lap and said, ‘I hear the soft launch went well. Though now that you’re married, shouldn’t you be thinking about quitting your job? A woman can’t chase ambition and keep a marriage happy, not for long anyway.’
The remark landed like a pin dropping in a quiet room, impossible to ignore. But Siya made sure to stay quiet. She’d learned painstakingly over the years that reacting only gave her grandmother more space to twist the knife deeper.
Abhay didn’t hold back though. ‘She’s handling the launch of a whole new jewellery collection, Dadi. That’s not exactly a nine-to-five.’
Sharda barely glanced at him as she rumbled. ‘You’re still young so you don’t understand. A woman’s first responsibility is always her marriage. Everything else she wants comes last.’
‘Luckily for us, our marriage isn’t built on sacrifices and control that women often have to struggle with,’ Abhay said, looking directly at Sharda.
Sharda was stunned into silence, not used to being spoken to like that. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘Still, it’s important to remember what real priorities are. Instead of slowing down, women like Siya get so swept up in their careers and their public image that they forget how to be wives.’
Abhay didn’t miss a beat. ‘Some of us believe women can do both, and Siya has always managed that balance effortlessly, especially considering where she comes from.’
Sharda made a cool, offhand remark. ‘You are an interesting man. Husbands don’t usually encourage their wives’ work.’
Abhay found her hand, lacing their fingers together. ‘For their bravery and strength, women deserve more people cheering for them. And I’m always going to be the loudest voice in the room for my wife.’
Emotion choked her, and Siya tightened her hold on his hand.
Sharda scoffed. ‘Well, I suppose times are changing then.’
‘They are and I think we’re all better for it,’ Abhay answered, sincerely.
Siya realised that this place may never feel like home, but with her hand nestled in his, she was finally home.
Siya sighed in relief when Neena and Mihit entered the room. She stood immediately to greet her, the memory of the auction only a day old was fresh enough to sting. ‘Aunty, Uncle, I hope the drive wasn’t too long.’
Neena smiled at her, and it softened the sharp edges of her nerves. ‘Oh, we’re used to the chaotic traffic by now.’
Neena looked stunning in a plum satin saree that clung to her frame, with only a minimal silver pendant adorning her necklace. Mihit stood beside her in a muted cream shirt and black trousers. There was an understated elegance to them both that Siya had begun to admire.
Abhay hugged them both, and Siya secretly wished she could build such an easy relationship with her parents-in-law. If only her father would let them.
She’d spent the day trying to figure out how to give them the cheque back. The thin piece of paper tucked in her clutch felt heavier with each passing hour.
She found it difficult to look them in the eye when they’d spent a fortune to win back a ring that shouldn’t have been up for sale in the first place. She’d often seen how that kind of generosity didn’t come without a cost.
Neena turned to her and said, ‘Darling, you look beautiful. That kurti looks stunning on you.’
Before she could thank her, Sharda chimed in, her gaze moving down her frame with the faintest wrinkle of her nose. ‘Oh please, she still dresses like a poor girl. I wasted so much time on her. I should have expected better than to know she’d learn anything worthwhile from me.’
‘A woman doesn’t need to be dripping with diamonds to look classy,’ Neena said.
Sharda snorted and spoke with dry amusement. ‘It’s funny you say that after the show of wealth your family did last night buying back a valuable heirloom from my son.’
Mihit directed his question at her with precise aim. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Sharda ji. If it was so valuable to your son, why did he put it up for auction?’
Siya felt the air shift in the room and her body tensed when Sharda frowned, her posture stiff with disdain.
Neena backed her husband. ‘Besides, that ring belonged to Arohi, not your son, and I’m sure she’d be happier to know that the ring passed down to her daughter instead of a stranger.’
The way she spoke of her mother, it almost sounded like she knew her. Siya saved that titbit away in her mind.
‘Kartik will be waiting for us in the dining room. You’ll have to excuse me.’ Sharda rose, muttering under her breath about checking the dinner setup, and left in a rustle.
Siya let out a sigh of relief when she walked out. Abhay and Mihit filtered after her and before Neena could too, she called out her name. ‘Aunty, can I talk to you for a moment?’
‘Of course.’ Neena stopped in her tracks, waiting for her to speak.
‘I wanted to…’ Her heart was lodged in her throat as she pulled out the cheque out of her clutch. ‘This is for you, and I also wanted to thank you for last night.’
Neena looked down at the cheque but didn’t take it. ‘It’s yours, Siya. Keep it.’
‘I can’t. It’s too much.’
‘Then consider it a gift for your wedding.’
Siya firmly shook her head, words spilling faster than she meant to. ‘I’m very grateful but it doesn’t feel right. I know you can’t be thrilled about the financial hit over the ring.’
Neena raised her hand. ‘No, I wasn’t thrilled about that ring being up for auction.’
The rage shimmering in her eyes confused Siya. She swallowed hard and brought up the one thing that had been nagging her. ‘Aunty, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why didn’t you stop Abhay? Why did you instead ask him to raise the bid to the triple amount?
Neena looked away, and for a second, Siya thought she might not answer.
But then she replied, ‘Because sometimes, you don’t get the chance to stop someone like Kartik the first time around. All you can do is hope that in the end, you succeed in saving something.’
Siya frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Neena simply reached out and gently touched her cheek once, then turned and walked toward the dining room. Siya stayed back, envelope still in hand. No matter how she turned the words in her head, she still couldn’t figure out their meaning, so she followed her.
Siya was the last to join as the dinner began. Everyone was settled at the long mahogany dining table. Despite everything weighing on her, her stomach twisted with hunger as the staff served the first course.
The spread was a tempting mixture of Indian and Western dishes. Butter chicken and rice were served in silver dishes, along with herb-crusted salmon in another. A platter of garlic naan and buttered French baguette slices was placed in the corner.
She chose a light Caesar salad with flaky parmesan sprinkled atop and spinach soup as Abhay loaded chicken on his plate. The gleeful look on his face showed her a glimpse of the foodie inside her. She made a mental note to learn how to cook one of his favourite dishes soon.