‘Is that what you’re angry about?’ he asks. ‘That I barely know you?’
I stare at Vedveer like I’m seeing him for the first time.
Vedveer and I are not and never will be a couple. This mighty palace, these great grounds, this antiquated sport he excels in are so far from my world that we may as well be living on different planets.
I excuse myself from Vedveer as his friends gather around him; my fingers linger on his arm a touch longer than would pass as cordial. I break from the crowd and walk towards the restrooms. I need a moment.
I head to the last stall of an empty restroom, bolt the door and click on Instagram. There are loads of pictures of Vedveer atop achestnut pony. Photographic evidence that he can exist without female accompaniment!
I hit the message icon to start a conversation with Lavanya.
Me:They introduced me as the ‘princess to be’. Can you imagine?!
A chat bubble pops. Lavanya is writing. Amen.
Lovey:What?
Me:So VRS tells me the palace will make the wedding announcement soon. As in the next day or two.
Lovey:What? Why is everything moving at such a dizzying pace?
Me:I don’t think VRS is interested in this alliance, but I don’t think he’s doing anything to back out.
Lovey:Why do you say that?
Me:I tried to push him to take a stand, but he somehow seems reluctant.
Lovey:Hmm… That doesn’t mean he’s not interested. Listen, I think you guys did kiss.
Me:Maybe we did. But how can I have no recollection of it?
Lovey:Where are you?
Me:In the ladies’ room, sitting on the throne and messaging you. Anyway, laters. I think I have company!
I hear voices, hushed words and laughter. It is getting closer.
I look down to check if the door is full length when I notice the flooring; it is eye-catching, white and gold vitrified tiles with a streak of indigo running through it.
‘Ozempic, you think?’ Speaker A is saying. ‘I read a comment from a post, quote, “She is onto something; no one changes so much in such a short time.” Maybe surgery to woo the prince, who can have any woman.’
That’s when I decide not to walk out.
Speaker B:‘Possible. This is not how she looked even a few months ago. I’m tempted to say weeks. She generally wears really funny clothes. Auntyji-type clothing.’
Speaker A:‘What she’s wearing today is decent, though. Howold do you think she is?’
Speaker C (male voice):‘Thirty–thirty-five maybe; she looks that.’
Did I wander into a common restroom?
Speaker B:‘Must’ve bought it today.’
Speaker B:‘Wait a minute, who is the chaperone? 1970s streetwear fashion!’
Giggles and laughter.
Speaker C:‘So out of place for a polo match.’
