Page 110 of Glass Jawed
I see Ishika’s spine straighten like a storm just clicked into place.
“This is a fitting, not a body-shaming seminar,” she snaps. “And she’s fucking gorgeous, Maa.”
Cue the gasp. The drama.
And I know it’s not because she’s been put in place, but because of the dreadedF word.
MinaChachiclutches her pearls—figuratively. “Ishika! Language! What is wrong with you?”
I want to laugh but I lock my widened stare to the ground.
“You don’t use that word in front of elders,” my mom hisses, aghast.
Aaaand there it is. The new topic of the hour. Now we’re off the body-shaming express and onboard theMoral Decay Express, next stop:Sanskaaron ki Shortage(Shortage of Values).
I sigh deeply. I miss Kash. She and Ishika get along like a house on fire—flames, destruction, and absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit.
She’s arriving in three days.
I’m counting the hours. Literally. Because if I have to survive this vacation-slash-intervention, I need her here. Preferably with snacks and a taser.
Once the fitting is done—for me and the rest of the bridal ensemble—Ishika pulls me aside with a look I know too well.
“Vicky wants us to hang out with his crew tonight,” she says, voice low and conspiratorial.
Vicky, aka Vikram, her fiancé. He’s great. We’ve all known each other for years. Honestly, I’m still surprised it took themthislong to finally get engaged. They’ve been dating each other since forever.
“And Ineedyou to wear that grey dress,” she adds with a gleam in her eye. “Oh! And pair it with—”
“The black belt,” I finish with a dramatic eye roll. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
But I narrow my eyes when I catch the way hers sparkle. “What are you up to?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “All you’ve told me is that you broke up with that Lucy guy—”
I snort.
“—so you’re finally available for Advik.”
“Ohgod.” I groan. “Are you serious? Vikram’s brother? Advik? His name’s not evenmoanable.”
She cackles and starts dragging me by the wrist back to my room—which currently looks like a saari apocalypse exploded inside it.
Apparently, the moment I left for Canada, my childhood bedroom got converted into a storage-slash-drapery-prep zone. Not that I’m complaining. My parents didn’t get rid of the twin bed, so I count that as a win.
“Behen, you need cheering up,” Ishika says, letting go of me to start sifting through my suitcase. “I can’t have you moping around.”
“I’m not moping,” I mutter, weakly. Convincing exactly no one.
“Please. If you weren’t moping, you’d have jumped in and roasted my momyourself. Instead of waiting for me to rescue you.”
She’s not wrong. Pre-Tim-and-Lucian Aarohi would’ve verbally tackled MinaChachiinto next week. But lately... the steel in my spine has been less steel, more... melted wax. I’ll bounce back—IknowI will—but still. It sucks that Ishika’s the one noticing the cracks.
She’s always been there for me—even though she’s two years older and infinitely more savage when it comes to aunties and men alike.
Now, I really do need to find that stupid grey dress. And if Ishika’s plan is what I think it is... I may need to bring my A-game and impress the hell out of Advik.
He’s thirty-one. Two years younger than Vikram. We were friends during my undergrad years—both living in the same city at the time. We lost touch when work and distance got in the way. Then I moved to Canada and that snapped whatever fraying thread was left.
