Chapter 16
Kashvi had heard what kind of stories were being whispered about her sister since the wedding was announced, and she hated how those very people were invited by her father.
From her claimed territory at the far end of the bar, she watched as everyone mingled among themselves, waiting for the bride and groom to show up.
Her hand tightened around the glass in her hand, and when a slight crack echoed, she placed it back on the marble counter.
Her nails dug into her palm as she noticed the journalist in the far-left corner, laughing and drinking like he hadn’t written a character assassination piece about Siya just twenty-four hours ago.
The article had blazed its way through social media with terms like gold-digger, racy past, and multiple lovers.
Eyes still locked on the man standing smugly across the room, Kashvi muttered under her breath, ‘I swear if I weren’t wearing heels and stuck in a goddamn lehenga, I’d teach that man a lesson he wouldn’t forget.’
A warm breath brushed against her ear, and the deep murmur of a smoky voice followed. ‘Only if you let me help you make it look like an accident.’
She whirled around, startled. She’d chosen this spot to be left alone, and somehow Swayam had still found his way to her. He was standing close, his chest touching her back, and a strange flutter ran down her spine.
The sharp line of his jaw was freshly shaved, giving him a polished and boyish charm that always tugged at her. Tucked inside the grey blazer, his black shirt was unbuttoned just enough that his toned chest peeked out. His dark hair was slightly tousled and a smug grin was etched onto his face.
‘You’re staring,’ Swayam murmured, the corners of his mouth tilting up.
‘And you’re flattering yourself,’ she shot back, even as her cheeks warmed and she hoped that the shadows in this corner were dim enough to hide it.
‘I don’t have to. You do it for me,’ he said, his voice smooth as ever.
Kashvi rolled her eyes and turned away before her smile betrayed her. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. Before she could do something stupid like lean against him, she turned around, pretending to watch the stage.
‘Is he the one who wrote that article you shared in the group chat?’ he asked, gesturing toward the journalist.
‘Yes.’
‘He certainly seems chummy with your father,’ he observed, leaning against the counter behind her.
‘Uh-huh,’ she answered, not bothering to hide her frustration.
‘How are you staying so calm?’ he asked.
‘Because the alternative is to kill him and it’s too risky with so many witnesses.’
His smile returned, smug and lazy, and Swayam said, ‘Do you realise how adorable you look when you’re furious?’
‘And do you realise how insufferable you are when you flirt?’ she asked, but it lacked any real heat.
‘Then I’m doing something right.’
Kashvi bit back a smile, shook her head, and turned away. She wasn’t ready to admit how easily he could undo her with his words, but God, she felt it.
He shifted closer, looking at her and asked, ‘Why do you have cotton balls stuffed in your ear?’
She stiffened and thought of ignoring his question, but he could be very dedicated when he wanted to know something so she just shrugged.
‘That’s not an answer.’
Kashvi sighed, then mumbled. ‘The sound of camera flashing makes me nervous.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, offering her final word on the matter. She could never tell him or anyone the real reason behind it so feigning ignorance was her best shot.
‘Hey,’ Swayam said, catching her wrist gently in his grip. ‘I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re not alone in this, Kash. Whatever happens, you’ve got me, always.’
She looked down at his hand on hers, stunned into silence. When he looked at her like that, like he wanted to protect and cherish her, it made her forget the world around her.
Like her guardian angels, Meera and Raghav came up to them, saving her from confessing her secrets. ‘Kashu, do you want to come with us? We’re going upstairs to see Siya.’
She eagerly nodded and hopped off the table. She made sure not to look back at Swayam, but felt his dark gaze on her until she walked out of the room. Once out of his sight, she sighed and silently followed Meera and Raghav up the stairs.
***
Siya sat before the mirror in her room, her hands tangled tightly in her lap, trying to stop herself from punching the man hovering behind her.
‘So, once we get the signal from downstairs, you’ll walk to the corridor where the photographers will take your entry shot. Don’t rush, don’t smile, don’t look directly at the camera,’ Chintamani said, repeating it for the tenth time.
‘How about I don’t breathe?’ she asked, irritation evident in her tone.
Chintamani didn’t hear the sarcasm, or chose not to. He went on, ‘Keep your chin angled for candid shots. When you reach the stairs, pause for a beat. Move with grace and elegance. You do understand what I mean by elegance, right?’
‘I got it,’ Siya said, more firmly this time. ‘You’ve already walked me through it. Ten times!’
‘It’s just protocol, and the timeline is tight, so we don’t need you to run your head and improvise.’
Oh, she was so going to punch him.
The photographer who was here to snap her pictures while getting ready kept circling her like he was capturing a rare animal in the zoo. She kept her face neutral though, refusing to give him anything real.
‘I know how to walk in a straight line,’ she retorted.
‘As your PR head, I just think it helps to run through everything over and over again in case—’
‘It doesn’t,’ she responded with a bite in her tone.
‘Why is it that every time I see you now, someone’s telling you what to do?’ Meera said, as she walked into the room, followed by Raghav and Kashvi.
‘Because I’m so obedient, duh,’ Siya answered her.
Chintamani scoffed. ‘Oh, please. Talking to you is like pulling on my teeth.’
‘That is better than listening to you recite the checklist over and over again,’ Siya grumbled.
‘Is that why you look like you’re seconds away from strangling someone with your dupatta?’ Kashvi asked with a gleeful smile.
‘Who’s to say I’m not?’ Siya questioned back, glaring at the man dictating her special day.
Chintamani didn’t take the bait, just said, ‘I’m sorry but all of you should leave until we finish the final briefing.’
‘No,’ Siya said, finally rising to her feet. She turned around and told him, ‘I said I’ve got it and I’d like a moment alone.’
‘You heard her. You can go now,’ Kashvi repeated, hammering the point home.
The photographer looked between them, unsure whether to shoot or flee.
Chintamani left in a huff, clearly not used to being dismissed. The photographer followed him in a rush, closing the door behind him. For the first time since that morning, Siya let out a relieved exhale.
‘Better?’ Kashvi asked, rubbing her arm.
Siya nodded. ‘Infinitely.’
Meera crossed her arms, looking like a dream in her midnight blue saree with tiny scattered sequins like the remnants of a sky, and asked her, ‘Are you sure you’re not going to commit a murder and run away?’
‘Not yet,’ Siya answered honestly.
‘That’s progress,’ Raghav muttered with a smile. He wore a matching kurta as Meera’s saree, appearing in sync with her.
Kashvi held her at an arm’s length, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘You look—I mean, Di—’
‘You’re crying already?’ Siya asked, wrapping an arm around her. The bell sleeves of Kashvi’s pistachio lehenga caught in her bangles, and the sisters giggled.
‘She’s right, you look divine,’ Meera noted, her fingers pressed against her lips to keep the sob in.
‘Oh God, you too?’ Siya asked, her throat constricting with emotions.
‘Shut up. You cried at mine. Now it’s my turn,’ Meera said, pulling her into a tight hug.
‘She’s been crying since the parking lot,’ Raghav said, moving to wrap an arm around her. ‘Kashvi had to redo her eyeliner, twice.’
‘I just can’t believe that the neurotic little mess I had to bribe with brownies to play ghar-ghar is getting married today,’ Meera said, blinking back tears.
‘She’s still neurotic, but she’s also the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. You look just like Maa did on her wedding day. See,’ Kashvi said, as she turned Siya around to face the mirror.
She hadn’t even picked out her own wedding lehenga, instead depended on Meera and Kashvi to pick something out for her. And she realised they’d done a great job.
The red was deep, threaded with muted antique gold zari in floral and peacock motifs.
The blouse curved across her collarbones in a sweetheart neckline, beaded with golden beads.
Instead of fabric, the thin straps over her shoulders were made of pearly strands.
The maroon dupatta veil pinned over her head looked like an evening sky studded with little glittering stones.
She’d made sure to keep her makeup minimal, insisting only on a bold red lipstick and kohl smudged along her waterline to hide the bags under her eyes. And yes, Kashvi was right, Siya could see the resemblance. It made her miss her mother a little less.
‘So, what are you guys doing here?’ Siya asked, turning around.
‘Well, we wanted to see you and make sure that the bride hadn’t run away,’ Meera said.
‘And I had to give you this from Abhay,’ Raghav said, pulling a cream-coloured envelope out of his bottom pocket. ‘He told me not to read it, which I took personally, but I guess I can let it slide just this once.’
Though he tried to lighten the mood, Siya could barely hear it. Her gaze was fixed on the envelope as she slowly reached out to take it.
Meera squeezed her shoulder once and softly said, ‘We’ll be waiting for you downstairs.’
Siya nodded, unable to speak beyond the lump in her throat. Kashvi touched her arm to reassure her, then the three of them walked out, leaving her alone with the letter in her hand.