Page 13 of The Secret She Kept in Bollywood

She was so much more than the sum of those things.

But he admired her too much already. For any of this to remain as uncomplicated as they both wished, he had no choice but to stay away from the woman. As much as was humanly possible.

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOUDON’TLIKEmy dad, do you?” asked Meera softly, panting while she walked fast on the treadmill.

The nib of Anya’s pencil broke with a sharp click at Meera’s sudden question. Anya took her time putting the pencil down and closing her sketchbook before she looked up at the chatty teenager.

Simon’s matter-of-fact instructions to Meera that Anya was her unofficial companion when he wasn’t around had been met with delight by the teenager. For some reason Anya didn’t understand and could only marvel at, Meera considered Anya cool. In the last few days, Meera had thrown innumerable questions at Anya—about the Raawals, their stature in the industry, Anya’s connections, her friends, her hobbies and which Bollywood star she currently had a crush on.

Anya had started showing up at the luxury hotel every morning, content to work on her sketches and designs while Meera finished her lessons in swordplay, archery and then wrapped up the rehearsals. If Virat thought it strange that Anya, who usually always preferred to work by herself until her sketches were ready for his input, was showing up at the preproduction every day, he didn’t ask her any questions.

Despite her resolution that she’d see this time with her daughter as a gift and not get too attached, Anya knew she was more than halfway in love with the girl. There was something incredibly brave about Meera, much like the warrior queen she was playing in the movie. She seemed to breeze through life, informed about most things and intent on learning the rest.

Every day when their work ended, they’d eat while discussing any suggestions Meera had received from Virat, then she’d work out for about an hour. While her brother hadn’t asked that Meera lose weight—Anya and Zara and Naina would have slaughtered him if he’d dared—he did want her to tone up to make the athletic swordplay and the fight scenes as authentic as possible.

If Meera’s unending enthusiasm occupied Anya’s day, thoughts about her dad consumed Anya’s nights. If Simon’s studious avoidance of her was anything to go by, he had no such problems.

“If it takes you this long to answer me, maybe I’m wrong and you do like him,” Meera said, pulling Anya back to the present. Her hair pulled away from her plump face, the dim light in the gym casting half of it in shadows, she looked so much like Anya’s mother, Bollywood’s yesteryear superstar Vandana Raawal, that her breath caught in her throat.

“I don’t know him well enough to like him or not like him,” Anya said, courting diplomacy.

“It’s just that,” Meera said, huffing, “I’ve noticed that you...get very tense every time he comes around to pick me up. And Dad hasn’t been himself lately so if he’s said anything to upset you—”

A fierce heat claimed her cheeks. “Your dad and I hardly talk for him to offend me in any way.”

“He doesn’t like me being here—you know...getting into acting, I mean,” Meera continued, thankfully ignorant of Anya’s blush. “So if he did say anything to you about the Raawal House of Cinema or the movie industry, please don’t take it personally.” Meera wiped her face. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Ms. Raawal. And not just because you’re going to make me look like an amazing warrior queen. I just... I really like you.”

Anya’s chest tightened. “Of course you won’t lose me. I’ll be your friend for as long as you want,” she added. “Nothing your dad says or does would change that, Meera.”

There were so many questions she wanted to ask Meera but Anya rationed herself every day. Because she knew the risk of investing more and more of herself into this relationship. She knew that Meera would inevitably move on once this film was over, and when she did, she’d walk away with another piece of Anya’s heart.

Despite the silent warning to herself, she couldn’t stop asking, “What made you so interested in acting? Your...mother?”

She wasn’t using the girl to satisfy her curiosity about the woman who’d owned Simon’s heart. She wasn’t.

There was an ache in her wide eyes as Meera thought of her mother, but there was also joy there too. “Partly, yes. You know she retired before I was born. So I wasn’t really immersed in that world growing up. But I loved watching her movies. Dad and I would pick one every Friday. She knew so much about so many people in the industry. She always indulged me when I asked for all the behind-the-scenes details and gossip.” Meera hit Stop on the treadmill and grabbed a towel. “But at school, I seemed to naturally gravitate toward drama and dance. I just love everything about acting, you know? I mean, I’m adopted, so it can’t be in the blood, but it definitely comes from somewhere.”

Anya gasped. “What?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m adopted,” Meera said, without even an ounce of anxiety in her tone. “Mama and Dad told me when I was seven. It didn’t really make much of a difference to me. Theyaremy parents.”

Anya nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat. If she needed any proof that she’d done the right thing thirteen years ago, here it was. Her daughter was strong and well-adjusted, even with the loss she’d suffered at such a young age.

“I can imagine what your mother must have been like to have raised you to be such a wonderful girl,” Anya whispered softly. From everything she was learning from Simon and Meera, Rani sounded like she’d been a wonderful woman. No wonder there had been such pain in Simon’s expression every time he mentioned her.

Meera smiled. “I like to think she’d be proud of me. But I worry about Dad. He didn’t really want to move back to Mumbai. I twisted his arm. But I did it as much for him as for me.”

Anya knew she should stop this line of discussion immediately. Especially since just the mention of Simon’s name had her pulse racing. She wanted to know nothing more about the man who already occupied too much of her thoughts and emotions. The man who’d brought her out of her shell.

The man who’d made her want so much out of life all of a sudden.

But when she looked at Meera, it was clear that the girl was desperate to share her worries with someone. “Why do you say that?” she prompted softly.

“He’s been so lonely since Mama died. I know it’s only been eighteen months, but I’ve never seen him so...withdrawn and grumpy as he’s been recently. I struggled a lot in the beginning too. But he was wonderful to me. He didn’t even get angry with me when he learned my grades were slipping. I feel as if he’s still stuck there emotionally. I knew we had to get out of that empty flat and make a fresh start. So I made a huge ruckus after we met Virat sir at the mall. I whined constantly that Mama would never have said no to me, never would’ve stopped me trying...and that’s when he finally agreed.” A sheepishness filled Meera’s face. “I kinda manipulated him. But I don’t feel too bad about it, you know? I did it for his own good.”

Anya laughed at the girl’s innate confidence. “How is bringing your dad here for his own good?”

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