The Saga Of Revenge

5| Unpleasant Surprises

I was told that a small dinner was arranged with the city's influencers tonight at the Convention Hall of the Hotel Taj Mahal. It was scheduled for more than six months and people from all backgrounds and motives were waiting to get a glimpse of Luna Aradhya.

Everyone has been talking about her. Everyone wants to talk to her—there are so many favors to ask, gifts to present, and manipulations to be plotted. Obviously, nobody wants to be in the country's second most significant woman's bad books.

I have been eagerly waiting diligently for the day for my reasons.

I have tried hard to embody myself into Luna Aradhya's persona for six months. I walk like her, talk like her, smile like her, eat like her, and I pretend to be her. I have practiced her fake accents for nights. I have tried to find comfort in her skin-tight and revealing outfits. I have tried to endure the piercing pain of high heels and the irritation of open tresses falling on my eyes.

I have tried to improve my communication skills and dark humor. I have familiarized myself with the affairs in the nation. I have learned to use the gadgets and social media handles where she puts something new and tempting every single day. Luna Aradhya is known to be a sweetheart and a social butterfly—it directly increases my hard work.

Wherever she goes, good and life follow. She has been seen dancing and singing all around. She is open to judgment and can pretend not for hours but months altogether. She is a perfect Japanese doll designed for every need.

An amicable woman of twenty-six, she is a philanthropist, a revolutionary, and a scholar. Alongside, she has represented the were-women on various international platforms. Each day I read about her, I am revealed to a new shade of her. Her personality which was supposed to be unique and ordinary became my biggest challenge—because Luna Aradhya knows it all. It seems like she is a hundred beings trapped in one.

She is my mirror opposite—and I loath her from the depth of my heart.

'You are walking so comfortably in these killer heels.' Avika eyes me with admiration in her eyes as she stumbles with her stilettos. She scans my outfits and winks her approval. 'If King was alive, you'd be ravished till you lay eggs all over his magnificent bed.' Her smile turns sad. Perhaps, she was missing her husband.

I would not blame her. It has been years since we last dolled up for someone. What used to be our daily routine has become such a scarce commodity.

Avika has been an exceptionally faithful companion in her life. She never bothered looking at any other species of male than her soulmate. She only had her eyes on Izyar. Unlike me, Avika was deeply and madly in love with her husband which is why she has turned cold-hearted toward any man who lays eyes on her.

'Your beauty is hypnotizing, love. Let yourself loose tonight! You deserve all of it. Seeking happiness ain't a sin, you know.' I grasp her palms and intertwined out fingers to press the inside with the pad of my thumb. I want to reassure her that everything is going to be alright, that we will win it in no time.

'I'd rather die than let any of those dogs steal my heart. I am compelled by circumstance, I have not given up.' Her voice is stern and cold as ice. 'Would you rather change your mind once you shape-shift, Sarva? I bet you cannot erase the painful images of your husband lying dead in the middle of the square from your mind too. It's a shame that we can only change our bodies into anything and not our hearts.'

True! It is one of the major constraints of the Serpent race—that though we can shape-shift into any living object available, we can only look like them and not be like them. It's just like changing the case on the exterior level. Internally, our originality remains. The pain remains! The yearning and hollowness remain.