‘It’s the lighting,’ was Siya’s lame attempt at an excuse.
‘And the chemistry. A man obsessed in love is a sight to behold!’ Kashvi chimed in, fanning herself with her hand.
‘He isn’t obsessed or in love with me,’ Siya scolded her.
Kashvi smirked. ‘He blew you a kiss across a room full of politicians and business moguls last night. If that’s not obsession, I don’t know what is.’
She flushed at the thought that their moment had witnesses. ‘You saw that?’
‘Everyone saw that,’ Kashvi and Meera echoed together, then giggled.
If the mehendi wasn’t halfway up her arm, she would have wrung both of their necks at the same time.
Her eyes found him again, unable to resist. His fingers tapped a rhythm against his knee as he gave her a once-over. She could feel the heat of his gaze moving through her body where he looked, and she squirmed in her seat. She looked away, down at her arm, and got momentarily fixated on the delicate orange-stained trails beginning to dry against her skin.
‘Wait a second. He missed you? But don’t you two live together now?’ Meera asked.
With a smug smile, Siya responded, ‘I went back to stay with Kashvi until the wedding date. Of course, I did it because I believe it’s in the best interest of the narrative of us “getting married again” so don’t get any funny ideas.’
‘You can be so wicked when you want your way,’ Meera chided her.
‘You don’t have to tell me. I have tolerated her all my life,’ Kashvi sighed dramatically.
A photographer chose that moment to come closer and click a snap, so Siya had to gulp down her comeback and replace it with a faux smile.
A sharp voice, high-pitched with excitement, cut through the noise and Siya didn’t see the woman until the blur of maroon lehenga whirled into her vision. Before she could react, the stranger threw her arms around her shoulders and clung to her tight.
She squealed in her ear, and Siya had to fight the urge to push her back. ‘Oh my god, Siya! I’ve waited so long for this day, you have no idea.’
Siya asked, ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’
The woman only grinned wider, clearly unbothered. ‘Oh, don’t do that to me now! I wanted to be here for your engagement brunch,’ she turned to the cameras and continued the rest, ‘But I had to show up for a movie mahurat. And I can’t wait to meet Abhi!’
She left as quickly as she’d come, and Siya watched as she rushed across the distance toward Abhay. Every nerve in her body tensed as the woman leaned down with the unmissable intent to hug Abhay.
Siya felt a surge of possessive heat flood through her chest. Jealousy gripped her tightly, curling through her veins like smoke.
Siya locked her gaze on him, just in time to see how his body language changed in an instant. He straightened and his expression transformed into an icy resolution. He shook his head at the woman in such silent command that the girl visibly faltered mid-step. When she still reached out, although hesitantly, he spoke the word with a finality to it. ‘No.’
Her smile stuttered before the woman recovered enough, though her voice broke with wounded pride to reveal how much the rejection had stung. ‘You’re still upset with me. Don’tworry, I’ll make up for it. I’m just so happy for both of you. Congratulations!’
There had been no apology in his tone, no explanation to soften for the woman he’d rejected. That quiet but absolute denial was more electrifying than any kiss she’d ever had. Siya couldn’t understand it.
The woman was gorgeous, with curves and features in just the right places, and even Siya had to admit she understood her appeal to men. Why had he refused to hug her?
It was crazy to her how effortlessly Abhay had drawn a line in the sand, as if the thought of someone else touching him was unacceptable, as if he only allowed that from her.
Her pulse finally slowed down when the woman moved away in a flurry, right into the arms of a socialite, greeting her like they were long-lost friends.
Siya asked in a hushed tone, ‘Okay, who the hell is that woman?’
Meera answered with a casual shrug. ‘Your best friend.’
Siya frowned, confused. ‘Huh?’
Meera nodded. ‘Apparently you two grew up together. Same elite schools, same private parties, same trauma of having too much money and not enough freedom. You bonded over your designer heels and the pressure of legacy. And somewhere in the middle of all that, she also became Abhay’s best friend, replacing Raghav no less.’
Siya laughed hard enough to shake, and the artist had to redo a design she messed up. She apologised to her, then turned back to Meera. ‘What are you talking about? No one is dumbenough to believe this made-up story. Pretty much everyone knows we’ve been best friends since childhood.’
