Page 136 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“Sorry, Aai, I’ve been busy. How can I help?”

“You carry on, my darling. We got this. Right, Lata?”

Lata flashed me a naughty smile.

“Can you get your breakfast? Lata made sabudana khichadi.” She pointed to a covered bowl of spiced tapioca on the counter.

“Yes,” I said, feeling shameful for my behavior over the past several days.

Mihir was a good man, and I should be happy for him. He had, after all, asked me. I was the one who had rejected him this time. This misery I felt in my heart and my body was completely my doing.

“What time are they coming, Aai?”

“In an hour or so, I think. Depends on the traffic,” she said, busy with what she was doing.

“Do you want me to be around?” I asked, not quite sure of what I wanted.

“No pressure, darling,” she said, looking at me this time. “If you can reschedule your meetings, it’ll be nice to have you.”

She wiped her hand on the kitchen towel hanging at the waist of her apron and stepped over to me, a frown on her face.

“On second thought, why don’t you keep your meetings? It’s best if you are not here.”

Okay, that was unexpected. “Umm, why?”

Her eyes glazed for a moment. “It just occurred to me that you and Mihir look so good together that we might end up giving them the wrong idea. Anyway, people are suspicious of grooms from abroad.”

A warmth flooded my face. Sneha aunty used to say that about us, and now, here was my mother, echoing the same sentiment.

“Why do you say that?” I asked with utmost curiosity.

She waved her hand animatedly. “Never mind. It was just a silly thought. All I want is for you to be happy, my baby.” She cradled my face in her hands and kissed my forehead so intensely, I thought I would burst into tears.

I almost did, but then I heard Mihir’s voice outside. With a hefty sniff to clear away the emotions, I walked out.

Mihir stood in the living room, chatting with Aaji and Appa, looking sharp in a bespoke suit.

“Wow,” I said with an attempted nonchalance that fell flat and came out as adoration.

“Thank you,” he said with a wide grin.

I raised my finger. “No, no. Wrong emotion.” I recomposed myself and, with a theatrical flair, rolled my eyes and produced a snarky, “Wow!”

“Ah, yes, that’s more like it,” he said.

I retreated to my room and stepped into the shower to wash off all the hurt and the pain. My eyes stung and my heart wrenched, but I was determined to guard my self-respect. I was just done drying my hair when I heard a knock at the door.

Appa stuck his head in, and when I nodded, he slipped in quickly. “Are you just going to sit in the stands and watch this?”

I harrumphed. “No, Appa. I plan to make my escape before they arrive.”

“And if he likes her, then what? You’ll let him slip through your fingers? Just like that?”

I sighed and collapsed on the bed. “Appa, I told you everything. How can you expect me to trust him again?”

My father was an exceedingly wise man. He smiled and sat beside me. “Sona, did he finally tell you why he broke up with you?”

I gasped and wordlessly nodded.

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