‘Drink more water,’ I say. Simi nods and licks her lips.
Vedveer, who had knelt beside me and looked her over, is back on his feet.
He dials his secretary, who is on the other side of the door, and asks that the lady be taken to the nearest emergency care. He asks Ratan Singh to accompany her, insisting that she be dropped home and that he keep him posted on her progress.
After Simi leaves with Vedveer’s team, he tells the painters to carry on with their work.
‘Are you okay?’ Vedveer asks, his eyes on the hollow of my neck, before turning to the chairs.
He pulls out two from the pile that has crashed and lays them out for the two of us.
I stare at him for a moment before shaking my head. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, smiling. ‘I’m really okay.’
Vedveer’s smile is forced.
‘Apologies for getting here earlier than I had said I would,’ he says. His arms are on his knees, and his eyes are boring into me like he’s trying to reach my soul.
I quickly draw in a breath.
‘I had a business meeting, which finished sooner than expected, and I thought I would swing by and see how you are doing.’
I nod.
Imagine realigning that entire regiment that goes with him everywhere when he has a change of plan. A logistical nightmare for the conductor of the show.
‘Was your journey okay? Did you get here on time?’ he asks, his eyes gentle on mine.
I nod.
My mind goes back to the evening on the terrace balcony, when I almost called him Ved but quickly managed to attach the Veer to it, like it were a surname. He didn’t notice; at least, I don’t think he did…
Over the last couple of months, something has shifted. Maybe it was the interview, but now, in my head, he’s justVed.
‘Ved… Veer,’ I say. The Freudian slip! Ugh! I notice a flicker in his eyes, a hint of a smile.
‘Vedveer,’ I repeat, forgetting what it is that I wanted to ask him.
‘Vedveer is an intriguing combination for a name – not always easy to pull off together,’ he says as he dips his shoulders to make eye contact.
I clear my throat, scrambling. ‘My mind is all over the place,’ I say, blaming it on the floor around me. ‘I’m forgetting names!’
He chuckles, amusement flickering in his eyes. ‘Ah, yes, the charming mishaps of the mind.’
‘How are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Lost in the usual chaos,’ I say with a shrug.
‘Usual chaos sounds like a full-time job. Does it come with benefits?’
‘Only if you like unpaid overtime and existential dread.’
He grins. ‘Tempting.’
‘I’ll add you to the waiting list.’
‘So exclusive?’ he asks, his brow lifting.
‘Naturally. Chaos doesn’t just let anyone in.’
