3. Sona
SONA
I followed Mihir to the spacious living area, docked on three sides by floor-to-ceiling glass. A surprisingly sharp autumn sun streamed through the panes, casting a glow on the tastefully decorated room.
Where other uppity South Asian homes I’d been to were monochromatic, decorated in shades of beige and brown, Tara’s home was alive with color.
A blue velvet couch and bench drew the central focus, and a soft yellow loveseat added contrast and warmth. All the seating surfaces were adorned with colorful Mughal print cushions bought from India. A muted Turkish rug added a certain hominess to the large area that would otherwise have looked cold and barren. A stunning painting of a tree in blues, pinks, and metallic gold brought the design together.
I lowered myself onto the loveseat upholstered in a color reminiscent of Amalfi coast lemons. Mihir sat on the large blue couch, taking up the space his large body demanded.
“Now, why are you furious with me?” he drawled.
I stifled my amusement. “You’re hung up on that, huh?”
He didn’t respond, just leaned back in the seat and waited.
Hmm, he seemed like a man who was used to getting his way. Now, what if I didn’t give him what he wanted? A part of me was already considering the possibility of ruffling his feathers.
I held my silence and sipped the tea.
“Well?” he demanded.
Before I could respond, I heard tiny beeps at the door, followed by a deep buzz and a click.
“Tara!” I deposited the cup on the coffee table and sprinted to her open arms.
“It’s so, so good to see you,” she said, squeezing me into a hug.
“Where’s Sameer?” I asked.
“He just got done with his meeting. He’s really sorry he couldn’t come to pick you up at the airport.”
“That’s alright. I can hold it over him for a while,” I said.
“Don’t be mean to him, please? He’ll be home in a bit.” She looked around me and smiled at Mihir. “I can’t thank you enough for picking her up,” she said, walking to him. Her eyes landed on the cup on the table. “Ah, and I see you made tea!”
She bent to give him a quick hug. “Will you join us for lunch? I made chhole poori.”
“Ooh!” I said before Mihir could respond. I loved the spiced chickpeas she made, along with the deliciously puffed-up poori.
“Sure,” Mihir answered, reading the excitement on my face. “How can I help?”
It ached to see that they behaved like siblings. This should’ve been me, not him. After Tara’s departure, it had become quite lonely in New York.
Tara gifted him a sweet smile. “Everything is ready and in the oven. You can keep Sona company while I freshen up.”
She gave me one more tight squeeze before disappearing down the hall.
I retrieved my mug of tea and settled back down, this time facing Mihir.
He continued to study me intently, but I gave him no clues.
“Sona—” he finally said but was interrupted by the whirr of his phone in his hand. “I’m sorry, I need to take this,” he said and answered his phone. “Yes.”
I nodded and took the time to study him instead. Who was this man who had replaced my camaraderie in Tara’s life?
As I watched him, his face changed. Gone was the calm visage and the subtle mischief on it. A strange shadow now fell over his face. His dark eyes turned blacker, if that was possible. A thick vein appeared on his forehead as his grip on his phone tightened, and his knuckles turned white.
“Why haven’t I heard about this until now?” he barked. His voice was different too. Deeper, ominous.
He lifted a finger to excuse himself, and I acknowledged it with another nod. He rose quickly, and with angry steps, strode over to the glass wall.
“I don’t care about the fucking money,” he said in a voice that made me flinch.
Not badly enough to spill the tea on myself, but enough to cause a shift in my pulse rate. It caused a quick, unpleasant flashback to my past, and I shuffled in my seat.
He didn’t notice it, though. His eyes were locked on some point in the distance through the glass window, his frown growing deeper every second. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable. Just pull out of the contract,” he said, then listened patiently. “No, keep everything as it is. We have fucking done our job. If they don’t like our recommendations, I need to hear it from them in very specific words.”
A short pause.
“I’m not taking her off the job. If they have a problem with a woman leading their account, that will be the end of their tether. Has Matt been apprised?”
More silence as the person on the other end spoke.
“Call it off. We’re done. And I don’t want to hear anything more on this issue.”
He walked back to his seat on the tufted blue couch. “My apologies, Sona,” he said without looking up at me as he typed something on the phone. “This needs my attention.”
“No apology necessary,” I said quietly, and he looked up instantly with a softened face.
“Just need to send two texts,” he said, the ferocity returning as he typed what I assumed was an angry note to someone.
Whew! I wasn’t timid, but I wouldn’t want to be at the receiving end of that wrath. So, this was the Mihir I had heard about! Just when I was beginning to wonder why the man who picked me up at the airport seemed nothing like the reputation that preceded him.
Tara emerged from the bedroom as I was finishing my tea.
“Are you both ready for food?” she asked Mihir, who tossed his phone on the couch.
“I sure am!” I cried exuberantly just as the door opened again, and Sameer walked in with a grand smile on his striking face.
“Hey, Sona! Welcome to Dallas!” He walked straight to me and gave me a big, tight hug.
Then, turning to Tara, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how happy you are right now.”
Tara’s eyes shone in response.
Mihir sat with his arms sprawled across the top of the couch, and I knew from the look on his face that he was about to bring up the topic again. “Now, Sona just told me that she’s furious at me, and I am really curious to know why.”
“Oh, not this nonsense again.” Tara shook her head dismissively. “She’s still upset I got back with Sameer and moved to Dallas.”
“What?” Sameer’s eyes bulged at me.
“Sorry,” I mouthed, scrunching up my nose and making a cute face.
“What does that have to do with me?” Mihir asked, and our attention turned to him again.
This time, I was ready with the answer. “If you hadn’t put your big nose into their affair, Tara would have stayed angry at Sameer. She would’ve returned to New York, and we all would’ve lived happily ever after.”
“I’m injured,” Sameer said dramatically. “If this is payback for not picking you up at the airport, I’d say it’s rather harsh.”
I held his arm. “No, unfortunately, I’ve come to like you. Except you stole my bestie from me and dragged her halfway across the country, and for that, I blame Mihir.”
I expected Mihir to be offended or annoyed, but he sat there looking striking in the grey suit on the blue couch, lips lifted at one corner. Then he shook his head and exchanged a look with Tara.
“Did you just brush me off?” I asked with hands on my hips.
“Let it go, you two,” Tara said pointedly to Mihir and me. “Neither of you is winning this. Off your ass, Mihir. Let’s eat.”
She led us to the dining area, where she had already laid out the table and brought the food over. That was Tara for you—efficient and capable, great at everything she did.
I turned to Sameer as we took our seats at the table. “Although I am Tara’s stand-in sister, and you do need to get on my good side. You better start ingratiating yourself to me.”
Sameer threw his head back in a surprisingly melodious laugh as Mihir pulled a chair across from me. “I’m at your beck and call. Tell me, what can I do to make up for it? How about I take you shopping tomorrow?” Sameer pandered.
I shook my head and wiggled my finger. “Uh-uh, no bribes. Pleasing me isn’t going to be that easy.”
Sameer laughed again and looked at Tara with so much love, a warmth washed over my heart. She had definitely made the right choice. Then it occurred to me that I’d never experienced that kind of adoration from any man.
“And you’re no stand-in, Sona. You’re the real deal. You are my sister.” Tara’s sweet voice broke the chain of my thoughts. Thank goodness, or it would’ve been only a moment before I spiraled down the deep, dark hole that was my love life.
Tara and I had been friends for five years, but we’d shared a lifetime in that short period. We were both from western India, spoke Marathi, and had wanted a sister. But it was our remarkable ability to read each other’s thoughts and emotions that had brought us so close that we were family now.
“Come on, the chhole will get cold,” Tara said, passing around the bowl of piping hot chickpeas and the platter of warm pooris. I spotted a tangy raw mango pickle and my favorite semolina dessert.
“You made sheera!” I squealed.
“Yes. What’s poori without sheera for you?” she replied, and I almost blushed from all the love around me.
As I passed the bowl of sheera to Mihir, our eyes met. For a second, his gaze peered deep into mine, and my heart took a quick, sharp plunge.