Page 137 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“And do you believe him?”

Another nod.

“You told me how you ran away from him twice.”

Nod.

“Did he persevere and work to get you back?”

Nod. This was getting tedious.

“And you went back because you like him.”

“Yes, Appa. Can we just get to the point?”

“Just two more questions. Did he apologize for breaking your heart and ask to have you back?

“Yes.” A big sigh this time.

“And do you expect this to happen again? That he would break your trust again?”

A knowing, confident shake of my head.

“You see where this is going, don’t you? He fought to keep you in his life. Now it’s your turn. You rejected him. You need to fight if you want him back.”

I blinked in confusion.

“Unless you are done with him and no longer want him in your life.”

Another firm shake of the head.

“Then go get him. Tell him how you feel and stop this ridiculous thing your mother has got going. She loves playing matchmaker, but this time, she’s setting fire to her kid’s future.”

My body turned to stone.

“You like him, don’t you, mol?”

“Yes, Appa.” I grabbed onto the conviction my father had reawakened in me.

“Then go and tell him. Now!” The urgency in his voice set me running helter-skelter in the room. “And put on something nice,” he said with a smile.

I pulled out a dressy gown that hugged my curves and made me look like a princess, as my mother claimed. I took a moment to put on some statement earrings and a nice shade of lipstick. I didn’t know why I was doing it, but the image of my prince in that majestic clothing was engendering specific feelings inside me. I’ll not let anyone else have him. I want him, and I’m going to reclaim what is rightfully mine.

Warily, I opened the door, earnestly hoping the guests hadn’t arrived as yet. But as I stepped into the corridor, I heard faint voices.

Darn!

How socially inappropriate would it be to barge in and pronounce before the guests like a hammy film heroine? “Nahiiii…. rok do yeh sab!” Noooo, stop all this!

This stupid joke was only to ease my nerves, but I could hear voices and a distinct laugh—his laugh. The one that made my knees weak and my stomach dip. And a rumble. It was definitely my heart.

I stopped just beyond the wall of the living room, ready to barge in full Bollywood style. I marshalled my inner warrior goddess.

“Mihir!” I said and stepped into the room.

To my utter amazement, I found only the usual suspects gathered there, no guests. Mihir sat beside Aaji, both video chatting with someone on his phone.

“Yes, Sona?” Mihir stood with a questioning look. He handed the phone to Aaji as Aai came and settled down beside her.

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