Chapter 7
Matchmaking wasn’t easy, not even for someone who was as good at it as Jia. Matches didn’t just happen, after all—they were made. Helping people find the love of their lives was a big responsibility, and that meant doing the damn work.
Today was all about setting the stage for Phase Three—literally. Jia would show Charu around her house after work so they could plan the decorations for the Diwali party. Papa had already agreed to hosting it at the Deshpande residence, although reluctantly. Their last festive house party had been hosted by Mamma right before her Stage 3 ovarian cancer diagnosis.
Twenty minutes after work, Jia parked in the garage and opened the front door of her house for Charu. “Welcome to my home!”
“Such a beautiful house.” Charu’s face lit up as she walked around Jia’s living room, setting her gaze upon every nook and cranny of the Deshpandes’ mansion. “I could decorate it so well that people wouldn’t believe this house isn’t in Ratnagiri!”
She spun around, looking up in awe at the opulent crystal chandeliers emitting a soft glow over the room. She touched the banister of the staircase and nodded. “We could line diyas along the side of the staircase, and maybe a rangoli at the front entrance. And we have to get fairy lights! And firecrackers for the guests!”
“Sounds perfect,” Jia said, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “Come on, I’ll show you the backyard.”
They headed outside, and Charu made a beeline for the three-seater wood swing that creaked when they both sat on it. The Deshpandes’ yard had once bloomed with roses, lilies, and night jasmine flowers, not to mention creepers snaking along the outer wall, but that had always been Mamma’s thing. Jia couldn’t tell one plant from another, and Papa didn’t have the time or the inclination to tend to a garden.
Now their backyard boasted nothing except overgrown grass, crunchy brown leaves from the one tree standing by the side wall, and the occasional weed that their housekeeper would sometimes pull out when there weren’t other pressing concerns.
Still, Charu looked giddy with pleasure as they swung gently, her gaze taking in her surroundings, until her eyes flitted shut and she exhaled contentedly.
Jia decided this was the perfect time and place to plant the seed of #Cheshaan in Charu’s head. She cleared her throat. “So, remember the matchmaking thing I needed your help with?”
Charu blinked, seemingly returning to the moment. “Yes, it’s so sweet of you to offer, Jia.” She took Jia’s hands in hers and beamed. “I’m very certain that I’m ready to meet the love of my life, and my heart tells me he’s here in Mumbai.”
Jia squeezed her palms. “I think so too. In fact, I’m wondering if maybe you’ve already met him.” At Charu’s confusion, she added, “At the office.”
Her lips slowly lengthened to form a smile. “Do you mean Eshaan?”
Jia nodded. “I saw it between you two on your first day. Not to mention how at ease you looked with him while you were reading his palm.”
“You’re right,” Charu said softly. Her eyes moved back and forth. “There’s so much comfort with him. And you know, my recent astrology predictions article for the New Moon in Scorpio went viral, and he came up to me in person to congratulate me. I thought that was so sweet of him.”
“How many managers would do that? You aren’t even in his department. He’s a darling, honestly. And you’d look perfect next to him.”
Charu crumpled her dupatta in her fingers, her gaze downward. Was she…blushing? “So what happens next? Are you going to talk to him about me?”
“I want this to feel organic for you both,” Jia explained. “I’ll nudge him a little during the party, but I want him to ask you out on his own. He’s an alpha male kind of guy, anyway. He needs to make the first move for him to truly know this is right for him.”
Charu grinned and stood up, clapping her hands together. “Let’s head back inside and finish brainstorming everything for the party. I’m so excited, Jia! You’re the best!”
Jia followed her to the living room again, doing a silent victory dance. Nothing could get in the way of the #CheshaanProject now. Absolutely nothing.
Jaiman had barely unbuckled his seat belt before Jia got out of her car, yelling as she strode toward the crowded festival market, “Come on, they’re closing in two hours, and we have a lot of shopping to do!”
He followed behind her, hands in his pockets. When she’d told him her family was hosting Diwali this year, he almost didn’t believe her. Jaiman hadn’t seen them host a huge party in ages. The last one was mere weeks before Jia’s mother’s diagnosis, and she passed away just a few months later.
Honestly, Jaiman wasn’t sure why Jia wanted to host a party now, after so much time had passed, or how she had convinced Devdutt Uncle to offer their home as the venue. After all, Jia’s mom—Amrita Auntie—had believed in going big for every festive occasion, inviting more than seventy people every time and making sure to personally welcome each one of them at the front door.
After her death, the Diwali parties stopped. The Christmas parties stopped. The Holi parties stopped. And, in some ways, Devdutt Uncle’s love for celebration did too.
Jia, however, always got what she wanted from whoever she wanted it, and Jaiman had to give her credit for all of it. One of the things he loved most about her was how fiercely she went after her goals. Jia Deshpande didn’t do anything half-assed. Not even shopping. His lips turned up at the thought just as Jia turned to look at him, and she raised a brow. “What are you smiling at?”
His smile only grew wider, but he put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. What’s on the agenda?”
Jia spoke over the buzz of conversation and shop owners enticing passersby, gesturing wildly with her hands. “We need to buy diyas, incense sticks, fairy lights, firecrackers, rangoli powder, stencils—”
“Breathe,” Jaiman said, looping an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get to all of it.”
“We have to,” she replied, whooshing out a breath. “Charu is so excited; I couldn’t possibly let her down.”
They went from one stall to the next, looking for every item on the list. Jia oohed and aahed over the intricate designs on the different diyas on display before picking up a set of thirty clay diyas and some ghee to light them. The multicolored diyas were so small that each fit in the palm of one hand, but the shopkeeper assured them that the light of even a single diya would reach the farthest of gods in heaven and bring blessings to the whole household.
“That is so beautifully said.” Jia grinned at the shopkeeper as she handed him some cash. “Do you happen to have scented incense sticks? Maybe vanilla or—”
“Madamji,” the shopkeeper said, rubbing his hands together, “I guarantee that you won’t find incense sticks as fragrant as mine anywhere else in this market. If you do, I’ll give you everything in my shop for free!”
Jaiman held back a laugh. It never ceased to surprise him how creatively these shopkeepers sold their customers on their products. “Let’s see them,” he said, and the shopkeeper led the way inside his temporary stall set up with poles and a narrow tent.
They were presented with over ten different scents, but they could only pick one to ensure the whole house smelled uniformly fragrant. Jaiman’s attention went straight to the rose incense stick, which—true to the shopkeeper’s words—was so fragrant it rivaled Jia’s perfume. He wondered if he should buy some for his apartment, so he could always have a part of Jia at home. But how would he explain that to Jia without making a fool of himself? He chuckled internally. He’d have to buy them off of Amazon instead of here.
In the end, they settled on a packet of frankincense-scented sticks, and the shopkeeper recommended his friend’s stall a few minutes away where they could find “the brightest fairy lights. I swear to Lord Ganesh, you won’t find lights like that anywhere else in this market!”
By the time the sun had set and the stalls had closed down, Jaiman was carrying four paper bags full of decorations in his arms. Jia had offered to help, but he silenced her with a scoff and walked faster to her car parked by the street. He would rather have made multiple trips to and from the car than inconvenience her, especially because she was wearing heels.
She drove him home, since he lived closer to the market, and as he was getting out in front of his building, she said, “Do you think we bought the right incense sticks? What if they’re not the best—”
Jaiman leaned against the open car door, chuckling. “If they don’t meet our standards, we could always go back and claim the shopkeeper’s stall for free.”
Jia shook her head as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Sorry, I’m just anxious about Diwali. I guess it’s been a while since we celebrated something.” Her eyes drifted forward, and she seemed to space out for a moment.
Jaiman licked his lips. Was she thinking about the last Diwali they’d all spent together before Amrita Auntie passed away? Or perhaps…Tanu’s wedding? Just as Jaiman started to ask her if she was okay, and if she wanted to talk about it, she exhaled. “It’ll all be fine. See you at the party. Don’t be late, okay? And wear something Indian.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll wear my burgundy kurta.”
Jia’s eyes flashed to his, and she swallowed. So she remembered. He didn’t know whether the memory of the sangeet ceremony was all that was bothering her, but…she remembered.
“Good night,” Jia said, her voice sharp. She turned her blinker on and made a U-turn back onto the crowded road. Jaiman waved at her until the car disappeared from sight, then headed to his apartment, his heart thumping in his chest. He’d better make sure that the burgundy kurta was clean enough to wear to the party.