Dil Beparwah | ✔

Bonus ▪︎ 1.2 | Family Packs

||BONUS 1||

《¤》

┊A R V I K A┊

Mikesh still hadn't showed up by the time the Puja ended.

Curled up comfortably in Jojji's lap, Molly entertained Adrija's daughter in the balcony. Apparently, she was allergic to incense sticks, but very excited to be around little kids. Pritha grazed her fingers through her shiny mane, scratching her perky ears. Sun bath and a soft massage-don't think anyone would decline that offer.

"Heard the hot goss," Jiya joined me in the kitchen. "Jojji ka toh dil hi tod diya yaar tumne!"

Her little accusation followed a tiny whisk of laughter. I nodded, smiling with a guilty countenance. "He's got a healthy coping strategy in place."

Like Varun, Jiya too was a journalist, so I had imagined his friends to be at least half as intense as he was, but I was positively surprised when I met Sid and Jiya. They were easy-going, cooked the best meals and roasted Varun every chance they got.

"You okay?" Her hand came over my shoulder to offer a compassionate squeeze. "You look pretty tense."

I had so many good reasons to be. "It's just... do you think all this is a bit too much?"

"Nah, you're just a tad-bit overwhelmed."

"He just introduced me to his family last night. Sure, they had their suspicions but it was so sudden!" I could still picture how uncomfortable it had made his mother for a moment. "And now that my parents are here, it's like I'm waiting for the ticking time bomb to explode."

"What are you really worried about?"

Even as she asked, Jiya must have realized I wasn't mentally prepared to answer that question. So, she continued, "Okay, dekho. From what I can see, Bebe adores you, be it for whatever reason. I can never tell what Dadu is thinking, and may be Uncle and Auntie are a little stunned. They just need a little time to process it? I mean, we all know that your meet-cute was super grotesque, so one might wonder why you're with him. Lekin chill haan, jitna I know Uncle-Auntie, they are relieved that their bewakoof beta managed to catch a beautiful bahu before Pam's launched her matrimonial website."

I indulged her in an uncertain laugh, sighing as I asked her one last question. "Do you think I'm overstepping a little?"

Her eyebrows shot up, regarding me with an absurd look. "Vickey, this is a Punjabi household. If you don't overstep, you don't step in at all. Now come on, I don't want to miss your father debating Malhotra Uncle over Trump's governance."

The living room was now slightly less chaotic than before, though tension wrapped with the incense of sweet jasmines and mogra filled the space. Our fathers were involved in what seemed to be a terse political debate. My eyes were drawn towards Bebe, who chatted up the Pandit, with little regard for others in the room.

We steered towards Adrija and my mother, catching bits of the conversation concerning her engagement and the lucky fiancé.

"Mihir," my mother mumbled. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Saha's son? I thought he looked familiar. Last I saw him was before he moved to Australia. When did he return?"

"Oh, no no. Not him," Adrija amended coolly. "I'm marrying Mihir Malik. We used to work together at Senses."

Mumma nodded, masking her shocked state with a curious, wide-eyed understanding. Marrying a man out of our circles was a little foreign to accommodate without hiccups. Saving her from further prodding though, Adrija's daughter ran towards the men, a joyful swing in her steps.