Page 150 of Glass Jawed
Still aching. But somehow... a little less alone.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Lucian
I wake with a jolt—body tense, heart kicking.
For a split second, I panic... until I remember: Kashvi ordered me to sleep in.
I check my phone. 9:16 a.m. Okay. Not bad.
I don’t know if the fever’s fully gone, but I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. So that’s a win. I take a second to breathe, stretch, and then drag myself out of bed. Time to blend back into the chaos.
Technically, there are no official wedding events today—just a lull between functions—but who am I kidding?
A farmhouse filled with hundreds of people prepping for a Punjabi wedding that’s a week away? Yeah. There’s no such thing as downtime. Even rest comes with a to-do list.
Once I’ve showered and thrown on some clean clothes, I head to the central hall. It’s almost ten.
The place is still yawning awake. Aunties in their printed robes, uncles nursing steel cups of chai, kids half-asleep on sofas. Everyone’s dragging their feet toward breakfast.
And me? I feel... weirdlycalm.
Even though I’m still carrying panic and heartbreak in the same damn heart that almost gave up last night—there’s also somehope. A fragile, flickering thread of it. The kind that Kashvi stubbornly left behind last night.
So yeah, I’m still slightly hopeful. But that in itself gives me anxiety.
As I near the dining tables, I spot Aarohi. She’s seated beside her father, her hair tied up, shoulders tense. Her eyes are puffy—subtly, but enough to gut me.
Did she cry because of the slippers?
God. I had hoped it might mean something. Help her sore feet. But I also saw her walk out of Advik’s room. So I thought maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all.
Speaking of thechutiya—he’s standing way across the room, as far from me as humanly possible. We’ve made brief eye contact. He didn’t flinch, didn’t nod, just turned back to his conversation with his dad like I didn’t exist.
I slow down just as I overhear Aarohi, voice sharp.
“Why can’t he borrow it from Rahul Bhaiya? Or—Dinesh Uncle?” (Bhaiya is brother.)
Raj Uncle sighs. “Rohi, just do as I say. We don’t have extra clothes lying around.”
They switch to Hindi, and I lose the thread of the conversation. By the time I reach them, Aarohi’s groaning under her breath.
“Uncle,” I greet, nodding politely. “Aarohi. Good morning.”
She looks up at me.
Not just looks—scans. Top to bottom. Every strand of hair, every breath I take.
Her gaze doesn’t feel cold... just wired. Alert. Tense.
“Arrey, Lucianbeta, good you’re here!” Raj Uncle beams. “Listen—I was just thinking. When you go pick up the, uh...”
“The canopy,” Aarohi supplies quietly.
“Yes! That. When you go, take Aarohi with you, hmm? And after, maybe stop by and look for somesherwanisfor yourself for the rest of the functions.”
“I...”
