‘I don’t know why you think that,’ Veena was saying. ‘He’s crazy about you. He can’t stop singing your praises.’
Shweta sighed. This was why she hadn’t wanted to come. She didn’t like discussing Nikhil with anyone—and especially not his stepmother. She wasn’t even sure why she was holding out, not agreeing to marry Nikhil, when every cell in her brain was crying out to her to say yes. For the last few days she had been wondering if she’d made a mistake—Nikhil had displayed every sign of being deeply in love with her.
‘It’s complicated,’ she said finally.
Veena stayed silent for a while, then she asked diffidently, ‘Does Nikhil talk about his parents?’
‘Not much,’ Shweta said, feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘I get the impression he’s not on good terms with them.’
‘No, he quarrelled very badly with his father when he visited us last. But I know his father would forgive him if he just made the first move—called him up, or visited us in Kerala.’
‘From what I understand, Nikhil thinks it’s his father who needs forgiving,’ Shweta said sharply.
Veena looked even more distressed. ‘He doesn’t understand... It’s my fault. I should speak to him, but it’s so difficult...’
‘I don’t think it’s your fault at all,’ Shweta told her. ‘Let’s talk of something else, Veena Aunty. I don’t think Nikhil would be very happy if he knew we were discussing his parents.’
Veena changed the topic, but after dinner she came back to it again. ‘Shweta, I know you think you shouldn’t get involved, but it would help so much if you could speak to Nikhil once. He’ll listen to you—he cuts me off every time I bring up the topic.’
Privately Shweta thought that Nikhil would cut her off as well—and a lot more rudely. Persuading Veena of this was way beyond her powers, though, and Shweta found herself agreeing to try and speak to him.
At least one person seemed happy, she thought gloomily as she left the flat—Veena was beaming. Clearly she thought Shweta would have everything sorted in no time.
Nikhil got back to Mumbai the next day, and he called her almost as soon as he landed.
‘Can you get out of the office a little early today?’ he asked. ‘I thought we could meet up for a drink after work and you could come over for dinner with us afterwards—I was planning to order in so Amma gets a break from cooking.’
For once Shweta wasn’t looking forward to meeting him, and she almost chickened out before better sense prevailed. Given that she’d been stupid enough to promise Veena that she’d speak to Nikhil, she might as well get it done with.
‘I can leave by six,’ she said. Deepa was out for a meeting, and it was best to leave before she got back.
‘Great. I’ll pick you up from outside your office.’ He paused, then said softly, ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Umm...me too,’ Shweta said self-consciously.
There were multiple disadvantages to working in an open office—not least of which was everyone around her being able to hear what she was saying. She rang off as soon as she could, and went back to work—she’d dawdled a bit in the first half of the day, and would have to work like a beaver to be done by six.
Nikhil took her to a rooftop lounge bar in a swanky new hotel—thirty-four floors up, it had an amazing view of the Mumbai skyline on one side and the sea on the other.
The wind whipped at Shweta’s hair, and she grimaced a little as she sat down next to him on an elegant black sofa.
‘Don’t you like it?’ Nikhil asked.
‘Oh, I do,’ she said. ‘It’s just that if I’d known we were coming here I’d have dressed up a little.’
She was wearing a lime-green cotton salwar kameez, with matching leather slippers. Everyone else was in Western clothes, and there were a fair number of foreigners around. Nikhil himself was wearing an expensive-looking jacket over jeans and a white linen shirt, and his shoes looked as if they were designer-made.
His gaze softened as he looked at her. Her cheeks had turned pink and her hair was tousled by the breeze. She’d never looked prettier.
‘You look perfect,’ he said. ‘I like you better in regular clothes than when you’re dressed up with make-up on.’
Given that she’d spent a frantic ten minutes in the office loo, trying to do her face, that didn’t say much for her make-up skills, but Shweta laughed.
‘That’s because you’re used to hobnobbing with actresses and models all the time,’ she said. ‘It’s a relief being with a frump.’
‘You’re not a frump.’ Nikhil leaned across and touched her face lightly. ‘I always thought you were beautiful—even when you were in school and wore those hideous glasses with black plastic frames.’
Shweta put her head to one side. ‘That’s a bit difficult to believe,’ she said. ‘Sure you aren’t brainwashing yourself? Telling yourself you’ve always loved me and that it was fate, meeting me again...?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, and tipped her face up to drop a kiss on her lips.
Shweta squirmed away—she was conservative enough to feel uncomfortable about kissing in public. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘There are other people around.’
He moved away a little and gave her an indulgent smile. ‘You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,’ he said.
‘I’m even cuter when I wallop people with my handbag,’ she retorted. ‘And that’s what going to happen to you if you try kissing me again.’
‘I have a violent girlfriend,’ Nikhil informed the server who’d just come up with their drinks. ‘If you see blood pouring out of my head you’ll know I’ve just been savagely attacked by her.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the man said gravely.
Shweta went scarlet. ‘He’s joking,’ she said.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And there aren’t any oranges in my sangria. Only enough apples to make a pie with.’
He peered into her glass. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll let the bartender know. I think the recipe we use doesn’t have oranges in it. Can I offer you something else instead?’
‘No, it doesn’t matter.’
She looked so disappointed that Nikhil laughed.
‘Why are you so stuck on the oranges?’ he asked when the server had gone away. ‘I think you injured that poor man’s pride, finding fault with his recipe.’
Shweta glared at him. ‘You’ll be the one injured if you make any more stupid remarks. And a lot more than just your pride.’
Nikhil laughed and threw up his hands in surrender. ‘I’m sorry...I’m sorry. Couldn’t resist it.’
Slightly mollified, Shweta sat back and sipped at her drink. She’d had sangria for the first time in Spain, and loved the way they made it there. It just didn’t taste as good without the oranges, but it would sound silly and pretentious to say so.
She was wondering how to broach the topic of his parents with Nikhil when she saw him take a jewellery box out of his pocket.
‘I got you something,’ he said.
He clicked the box open and there, nestled in black velvet, was a pair of exquisite diamond earrings. They matched the ring he’d given her earlier, and in the evening light the diamonds sparkled with all the colours of the setting sun.
‘They’re lovely,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Nikhil!’ Taking them out of the box, she slid them into her ears.
Nikhil watched her and said, ‘I wish you’d done the same with the ring.’
She was about to give a flippant reply, but there was something in his voice that stopped her. ‘Nikhil—I’ve only asked for some more time,’ she said helplessly.
He met her gaze squarely. ‘You can have all the time you need. I’m not trying to pressure you into saying yes. It’s just that sometimes—well, sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait.’
/> There was a short pause and Shweta kept on looking at him, scanning his eyes keenly. She’d come very close to agreeing to the engagement twice before, but doubts had held her back. Now she was almost a hundred percent sure that Nikhil was in love with her—the doubts were probably stemming from her own lack of self-confidence. There were risks, of course. Nikhil would never make a safe or comfortable husband, and with his lifestyle he would always be surrounded by women a dozen times more attractive than her. But which was better? Taking the risk of having her heart broken some years down the line, or making sure she got it broken right away by breaking up with him?
Nikhil looked away first. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This is way too heavy for evening conversation.’ He picked up the jewellery box and put her old earrings into it, held the box out to her. ‘Here—maybe you should put these away before you lose them.’
As she took the box from him she noticed that his hands were shaking a little—and his lips were compressed, as if he was suppressing a strong emotion with some difficulty.
‘Have you got the ring with you?’ she asked.
Nikhil’s eyes flew to her face. He shook his head, but his eyes were ablaze with hope. ‘I’m a little superstitious about carrying it,’ he said. ‘Does this mean...?’
‘It means, yes—I’d love to marry you,’ Shweta said. Nikhil promptly pulled her into his arms and did his best to kiss her senseless. Shweta emerged from his arms a few minutes later with her hair tumbled and cheeks aflame.
‘I told you not to kiss me in front of other people,’ she muttered, but she wasn’t really angry this time.
Nikhil looked completely unrepentant. ‘Special circumstances,’ he said. His eyes were sparkling with devilry and he looked magnificent, with sunlight glinting off the angles of his perfectly sculpted face and his lean, strong body draped across the sofa.
‘You know, this is a pretty nice hotel,’ he said. ‘What do you say to checking into one of the rooms and celebrating our engagement properly?’
It sounded too tempting for words, but Shweta frowned in mock annoyance. ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘We’re not officially engaged until you give me the ring anyway. And I want to finish my drink.’
Nikhil watched her sip at the drink. Under his scrutiny she grew more and more conscious, finally spilling a bit onto her clothes.
‘Stop it,’ she said, swatting at his hand as he leaned forward and mopped at the stain with a spotless handkerchief. ‘You’re doing it on purpose—looking at me like that.’
‘Like what?’ he asked innocently, leaning back in his chair. ‘Can’t I even look at my fiancée?’
His eyes were dancing with unholy glee and Shweta frowned at him. ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ she chided. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’
‘There was something I wanted to ask you, actually,’ Nikhil said, and his abrupt switch to a serious tone made her look up in surprise. ‘Would you object if Amma came and lived here in Mumbai?’
‘I thought she didn’t want to move?’
‘I’m going to convince her,’ Nikhil said, and there was a confident smile on his lips. ‘I was originally going to ask her to move into my flat, but now I think it would work better for all of us if I get her another apartment in the same building.’
It was the perfect opening, and in spite of her misgivings Shweta took it.
‘Veena Aunty’s not going to move here until you sort things out with your dad,’ she said. ‘She’s spoken to me a couple of times about it.’
Nikhil frowned. ‘I thought I told you—my father and I aren’t on speaking terms any more.’
‘That’s exactly what’s upsetting Veena Aunty. Look, I don’t want to interfere, but for my sake just give her a fair hearing, OK? I won’t bring the topic up again afterwards.’
‘I’ll speak to her,’ Nikhil said. ‘But right now I’m calling for the bill, and then we’re heading to my office so that I can retrieve the ring. I knew it was a good sign, finding those matching earrings.’
‘Yes, of course—that’s why I agreed to marry you,’ Shweta said. ‘So that I could get a ring to match my earrings.’
He laughed. ‘I’m too worried that might be true to ask questions,’ he said. ‘I know how important it is for you to have matching accessories.’ He looked pointedly at her lime-green slippers and bag, and Shweta made a face. ‘But let’s come back here after we get the ring—I do want to celebrate properly.’
As it turned out they didn’t end up going back—Nikhil remembered that the ring was in his flat, and that Veena was there, waiting for them for dinner.
‘OK if I tell her?’ Nikhil asked in an undertone when they reached his apartment. ‘I’m sorry about this. I completely forgot that she was here, that I’d even told her we’d come back for dinner.’
‘You told me,’ Shweta said, suppressing a smile. It was rather endearing, his having forgotten all the plans he’d made for the evening just because she’d agreed to marry him. ‘Let’s tell her—and let’s celebrate by ordering in the most expensive meal possible.’
To say that Veena was over the moon was an understatement. She hovered over Shweta and made gushing remarks and generally got in the way, but it was impossible to be annoyed with her because she was so genuinely happy. The only sour note was introduced when she asked Nikhil when he would tell his parents.
‘I’m not planning to speak to them,’ he said shortly. ‘You can tell them if you want.’
Veena shot Shweta an appealing look, but Shweta didn’t want to interfere in something that Nikhil evidently felt strongly about. She changed the topic and Veena followed her lead, though a worried frown still puckered her forehead.
Nikhil was just dropping Shweta back home, and she looked at him in surprise when he pulled the car over halfway between their apartments. ‘Something wrong with the car?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘No, there’s something wrong with me,’ he said, leaning over her to release her seat belt and pull her into his arms. ‘I’m likely to die of frustration,’ he muttered against her lips as he began to kiss her. ‘We should have checked into that hotel, and to hell with everybody else.’
The kiss was explosive, and when they finally broke apart Shweta found herself trembling.
‘We’re likely to get pulled in by the cops for indecent behaviour in public,’ she said shakily. ‘Let’s go.’
Priya had some friends over, and Nikhil refused to come upstairs. He knew Shweta well enough to know that she’d feel awkward and embarrassed taking him into her room if other people were around.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said, caressing her face.
Even the gentlest touch had the capacity to send her up in flames, and for a second she was tempted to forget her scruples and drag Nikhil up to her flat. Then she remembered Veena, and how scandalised she would be if Nikhil stayed the night with Shweta. Sighing, she stepped back and waved as Nikhil got into his dangerous-looking car and drove away.
Shweta spent the next day in a happy daze. So far she’d only told Priya about the engagement. Her father and aunt would need to be told soon, but Shweta wanted to tell them face to face. She was slightly apprehensive about her father’s reaction. In spite of having finally broken away from her father’s overpowering influence, she found herself regressing a bit now, when it came to her marriage—she wanted him to approve.
It was around seven in the morning on Saturday when her phone rang, and for a few seconds Shweta didn’t recognise the agitated female voice. When she finally realised who it was, she said, ‘Veena Aunty, you need to calm down—I can’t understand a word of what you’re saying.’
‘I need to come and see you. Can you message me your address? I’ll take a taxi and come.’
‘What’s happened? Is Nikhil OK?’
‘Yes, yes, Nikhil is fi
ne. But he’s very upset with me, and I really need to see you before I leave.’
‘Leave for where?’ Shweta asked in bewilderment. Only the day before Nikhil had told her that Veena might be staying on for another week, to meet some distant relatives from the US who were passing through Mumbai.
‘I’m leaving for Kerala today. Nikhil’s father has booked the tickets. I just need to go to the airport and pick them up, he said. But I have an hour or two, and I need to speak to you.’
Shweta could get nothing more concrete out of Veena on the phone, and finally gave her detailed directions to her apartment. When she arrived Veena seemed a lot more composed than she’d sounded over the phone— only the way she was twisting her sari pallu betrayed how upset she was.
‘Why is Nikhil angry?’ Shweta asked gently.
‘I asked him to tell his parents about the engagement and he refused. Maybe I should have let it go, but I thought it was important for him to call them—and they will need to be involved in the preparations for the wedding... Your father would think it very strange if they didn’t participate. Then Nikhil said he wasn’t even planning to invite them.’
Clearly that statement had led Veena to remonstrate with him, and their argument had got completely out of hand, with Nikhil storming out of the house at the end of it. While Shweta sympathised with Veena, she could see the whole thing from Nikhil’s point of view as well.
‘He hasn’t really forgiven them for all he went through when he was growing up,’ she said gently. ‘It couldn’t have been easy, dealing with all the gossip around his being illegitimate.’
‘If he wasn’t illegitimate he wouldn’t exist,’ Veena said. ‘Better being illegitimate than not being born.’
As a statement, it was a difficult one to argue against, but Shweta was finding it incredible that Veena, who had far greater cause for complaint than Nikhil, was staunchly defending her husband.
‘I think he feels that his dad was very unfair to you.’
‘He doesn’t know anything about it,’ Veena said. ‘It’s I who wasn’t fair to Nikhil’s father. He’s always been a perfect gentleman.’
The One She Was Warned About Page 12