Aparna Sawant, a woman who prioritizes her independence and fulfilling career, has never subscribed to the idea of happily ever after. Marriage, for her, is a practical decision.
Varad Oberoi, a successful businessman hardened by past experiences...
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A P A R N A
A peal of laughter, high-pitched and gleeful, sliced through the murmur of conversation. I peeked over the backrest of the couch, spotting Megh, a tiny acrobat in Varad's grasp, soaring through the air. My little prince shrieked, a strangled cry that morphed into delighted giggles as Varad swooped him down again.
"Up again, Champ?" boomed Varad, his voice thick with amusement.
"No!" Megh squealed, burying his face in Varad's shoulder. But the traitorous glint in his eyes told a different story.
I sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite myself. It was hard to stay grumpy when those two were at it. Here I was, perched on the damn couch like a lone sparrow on a power line, while the real action unfolded across the courtyard.
My mehndi, a swirling design of paisleys and vines, was practically dry. The last of the aunties trickled in, their arrival heralding a fresh wave of chatter. The topic, unsurprisingly, remained the same – our non-existent love story. It felt like a never-ending loop, suffocating and predictable.
And then there were the stares. The not-so-subtle gazes of the younger daughters of Varad's business buddies, their eyes flickering between me and him, their faces etched with a strange mix of curiosity and... something else I couldn't quite decipher.
Vartika's giggle yanked me back to reality. "Bhabhi," she teased, drawing out the word with exaggerated sweetness, "you can stop gazing at Bhai now."
My cheeks burned. "I was not gazing!" I protested, my voice a touch too loud. The three of them exchanged a knowing look, then burst into laughter. I huffed, turning my head away with mock indignation. They were relentless, those three.
Suddenly, Megh's voice cut through the air. "Mumma! Dadda take me to Mumma!" He came charging across the courtyard, a determined little knight on a quest.
The men were gathered on the opposite side, sipping mocktails and nibbling on appetizers (the kids, thankfully, relegated to fruit juices and mini samosas). Varad scooped Megh up effortlessly, the little guy wrapping his chubby arms around his father's neck as he was brought to me.
As soon as Megh stood in front of me, he raised his tiny clenched fists with determination. "Mama! Up!" he declared, completely ignoring the fancy dessert Bui was trying to tempt him with.
I laughed, my hands already reaching out. "Woah there, little guy! Careful, these mehndi designs are delicate."
But Megh was having none of it. He squirmed in Varad's arms, his lower lip trembling with the threat of a full-on meltdown. Even his Bui, Mimis and his Dadda were no match for his single-minded pursuit of climbing into my lap.
"Alright, alright," Varad chuckled, finally succumbing to the inevitable. "How about you cuddle with Mama for a while? But promise me you'll be a good boy, no henna handprints on that beautiful dress, okay?"
