-34-
Jayasvi had her head in her dadi's lap while her grandmother watched the news intently on the television. She was bored out of her mind. Honestly, she was bored of this entire monotonous life—even though she had no right to call it that after yesterday's face-off with Raghav Hooda, the bastard.
She looked up at her dadi. Her mother had gone out to her mama's place to discuss random wedding details and shopping logistics.
Jayasvi was completely uninterested. She couldn't understand why everyone else was so damn excited about her wedding.
These were supposed to be her days of lounging around watching Shinchan, not getting dressed up in a heavy lehenga to sit in a mandap.
Besides, if she had to get married, her plan was simple: get beautiful, aesthetic pictures in a heavy outfit, soak up all the attention for a day, feel like a princess, and then run away.
If only some dreams could actually be fulfilled. She was still actively plotting her post-wedding escape, but the repercussions seemed a little too massive to handle.
"Dadi, I'm getting bored. Let's go out," she pleaded, tugging on her dadi's hand. She wanted to break the older woman's absolute devotion to the television, where the news reader was spouting nonsense about rising commodity prices for the third time in a row.
"Wait, Jayuu, let me hear..." her dadi shushed her, pulling her hand away without even looking in her direction.
"Dadi..."
"Jayuu, shut up for a moment. They are broadcasting important things," her dadi scolded.
Jayasvi's face flushed with irritation. She pulled her head from her grandmother's lap, buried her face in a pillow, and whined into the fabric to muffle the sound. She hated being entirely ignored just because the news was on.
"I want to have lunch outside," Jayasvi announced, popping her head up from the pillow and staring at her grandmother with wide eyes, silently daring her to say no.
Before her dadi could utter a refusal, she let out a loud, dramatic whine.
"I'm leaving this house in two months anyway, and you're still ignoring me!
This television will stay here. These news anchors will stay here.
All they do is talk about my future sasur ji all day long anyway. "
That did the trick. Her dadi let out a defeated sigh.
"Go get changed. Where do you want to go?" she asked.
Jayasvi didn't waste a second. She rushed to her wardrobe and pulled out a loose white t-shirt covered in cartoon graphics, a pair of baggy denim jeans, and quickly twisted her hair into a tight braid. She completed the look with a generous layer of sunscreen.
"Why do you always dress like a homeless person?" her dadi asked, eyeing the oversized clothes with disapproval.
"It's called comfort over fashion, Dadi. I can't do tight skinny jeans anymore," she responded, checking her reflection before hooking her arm through her dadi's elbow.
"It's almost lunchtime. We need to reach the bus stand soon," her dadi said. Jayasvi nodded, leading the way out, only for her father to intercept them at the door.
"Where are you going? What is the need for all this?
" he questioned, clearly seeing no point in eating out besides wasting money.
"Your mother is already out there throwing money away in the name of this wedding, and now you want to eat out?
Money doesn't grow on trees. When will you understand that? " he snapped loudly.
Jayasvi flinched, instinctively stepping behind her grandmother.
"If money is so important, why didn't you ever earn more of it?
" her dadi argued back, refusing to let him ruin the day.
"Why ruin her mood now? She'll be married in two months, and then you can continue hoarding your money.
I am paying for this lunch out of my own pension. Why is it troubling you?"
Without waiting for his reply, her grandmother pulled Jayasvi out of the house.
Out of habit, Jayasvi clutched the end of her dadi's dupatta, following her to the bus stand like a lost child.
"Jayuu, you need to start speaking up," her dadi told her gently. "This world will eat you alive if you let people dictate to you. You need to be bold."
Her dadi had absolutely no clue. Jayasvi might have been intimidated by her father, but she was perfectly capable of destroying a certain powerful billionaire with just a few sharp words.
By the time they reached the bus stop, it was getting crowded, but there was no sign of a bus.
"What's taking so long?" Jayasvi whined, after standing there for fifteen minutes.
"It's already 1:30. It's the drivers' lunch break, so the service is limited right now.
Let's just get on the next bus that comes and change routes halfway," her dadi suggested as a vehicle finally approached.
Jayasvi rushed aboard to secure a seat, saving the one beside her for her dadi while the older woman paid the conductor for the tickets.
Once her dadi sat down, Jayasvi settled back and looked out the window.
When their connecting stop arrived, they disembarked. The afternoon sunlight was intense, beating down on their faces with no other buses in sight. They waited for nearly half an hour. Jayasvi's legs began to ache, while her dadi resorted to sitting on a raised concrete platform nearby.
"When will the bus come, Dadi?" she asked tiredly, fanning her face as the heat rolled over them.
"I told you, it's the lunch hour. It takes longer."
"How far is the restaurant from here?" Jayasvi asked. Walking was starting to seem like a much better option than melting at a bus stop.
"Around two to three kilometers," her dadi replied. They waited another ten minutes before finally giving up and deciding to walk the distance.
"Why is this happening today?" Jayasvi groaned, hating how the afternoon was turning out.
"Your father is probably cursing us from back home for spending money," her dadi joked.
Jayasvi just huffed in irritation. The day was not going as anticipated, and the roadside pollution was only making it worse. "All my makeup is going to melt if we keep walking," she complained.
"What makeup did you even apply?" her dadi asked, amused.
Jayasvi couldn't argue with that. She probably looked horrible, and her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion.
Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, a sleek luxury car pulled up smoothly beside them. Neither of them bothered to look closely at it—until the driver stepped out, effectively ruining her already ruined mood.
"Namaste, Dadi," Raghav spoke, bending down to touch her grandmother's feet like the ideal, traditional son-in-law.
Such a show-off, Jayasvi thought. Naturally, this was exactly why her family adored him. Her grandmother beamed instantly at the sight of him, showering him with blessings.
"What are you doing out here?" Raghav questioned, his brow furrowing as he looked at his supposed fiancée walking along a dusty road in the blistering heat.
"It's nothing, beta. We waited a long time for the bus, and when none came, we decided to just walk," her dadi explained, smiling warmly.
A wave of sharp embarrassment hit Jayasvi.
The man standing in front of her—her future husband—was driving a multi-crore Maybach, while she and her grandmother were trudging down the road to save a few rupees on a bus fare.
Even though there was nothing inherently shameful about taking public transit, the stark class difference between them felt like a slap in the face.
Raghav stole a glance in Jayasvi's direction but kept his attention on her grandmother, asking where they were heading. Her dadi happily supplied the name of the restaurant, adding that it had been Jayasvi's favorite place since childhood.
"Dadi, I'm not leaving you both out here in this heat. I'll drop you off. Please, get inside," he said respectfully, before cutting his eyes to Jayasvi. His gaze was a silent dare for her to argue.
A deep frown marred her forehead. She wasn't a charity case, and she didn't need his pity.
"It's really not needed, beta. You're a busy man, we don't want to disturb you," her dadi politely declined.
Jayasvi felt a surge of relief. She did not want to be trapped in a confined space with him right now, especially not while she was a sweaty, disheveled mess.
"I insist, Dadi. I can't just drive away and leave you both out here. It's far too warm," Raghav insisted, playing the part of the perfect, caring son-in-law until her dadi finally relented. As usual, nobody bothered to consult Jayasvi, as if her opinion didn't matter at all.
Her dadi took her hand and led her toward the car. Raghav opened the rear door for her dadi first, then walked over to open the front passenger door for Jayasvi.
"You don't have to do that. I can open a door myself," she muttered, glaring daggers at him.
"Jayasvi, you can either throw a tantrum right here in front of your beloved grandmother, or you can get into the car silently.
We can do this the peaceful way or the chaotic way.
The choice is yours," he stated in a low, even tone.
He was in no mood to argue, not after seeing her walking exhausted along the shoulder of a busy road.
His future wife was meant to live like a queen, not struggle for basic necessities. He motioned her inward.
Grit teeth, Jayasvi glanced back at her grandmother. The roar of the surrounding traffic and the growing attention from Raghav's security convoy made her realize she couldn't make a scene. Grumbling under her breath, she climbed inside.
An instant later, Raghav slipped into the driver's seat and brought the powerful engine to life. Jayasvi kept her eyes trained out the window, pulling the seatbelt across her chest.
"We didn't expect to run into you here, Raghav," her dadi spoke softly from the back.
"I had a meeting with a business associate nearby, Dadi. I happened to spot you both on my way back," he replied smoothly.
"Show-off," Jayasvi muttered under her breath.
Raghav's eyes darted to her for a split second before returning to the road.
His gaze drifted down to the simple gold chain around her neck, and a flash of displeasure crossed his features.
She could wear a gold chain, but she refused to wear his massive engagement ring just because her family deemed it 'risky' to wear out in public. How convenient.
But as he looked at her sitting in the harsh afternoon light, a deeper irritation settled in his chest. Did she always live like this? Dragging herself through the heat?
Then, his eyes caught the gleam of the pearl ring on her finger—the one he had given her. A sudden sense of possessiveness and quiet satisfaction washed over him. At least she was wearing something of his.
A heavy silence filled the car, punctuated only by the occasional stolen glance between the two of them. In the backseat, her dadi caught the silent tension and hid a knowing smile behind her hand.
The drive to the restaurant was short. The moment the car stopped, Jayasvi unclicked her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
Raghav caught her wrist, stopping her instantly.
He got out first, walked around the vehicle, and opened the rear door to help her dadi out before turning back to Jayasvi's side.
She was taken aback by the sudden display of chivalry. After all their fighting, she had almost forgotten that in the eyes of the world, they were a couple. They were getting married.
"Thanks," she whispered awkwardly as she stepped out. Before she could pull away, Raghav took her hand in his. Her breath hitched as his callous thumb deliberately brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner palm. Her eyes snapped up to meet his.
He didn't let go.
Jayasvi internally panicked as he began walking toward the restaurant entrance, with her dadi following closely behind. Did this man have no shame? He couldn't just touch her like this right in front of her grandmother.
The restaurant, as usual, had a massive crowd waiting outside.
"Raghav, what the hell are you doing?" she hissed under her breath, trying to wrench her hand from his iron grip. He ignored her completely.
"What? Can't I accompany my wife and her dadi for lunch?" he replied, his voice dripping with smooth, effortless charm.
Jayasvi wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his throat. Wife? How dare he?
The manager at the entrance recognized Raghav instantly, bypassing the long queue of waiting patrons and ushering them straight inside.
He led them to an exclusive, secluded area of the restaurant Jayasvi had never even seen before—the VIP section.
She shouldn't have been surprised; Raghav Hooda didn't do ordinary.
Raghav dismissed the manager with a curt nod before he could open the private dining room door. Stepping forward, Raghav opened it himself, gesturing for her dadi and Jayasvi to enter.
Jayasvi twisted her lips, shooting him one last glare. She wasn't impressed by his sudden gentlemanly act. It didn't change a thing between them.
But one thing was certain: this lunch was going to feel very, very long.