“Amrit told me the shaadi is at sunset on Monday, in a beachside resort in Calangute.” Which is tomorrow, because it’s just past midnight.
“So it’s in North Goa. I’ve been there before.”
With whom? Priti? Other friends? An ex?I want to ask, but it doesn’t make sense to pry in the context of our current conversation. Thethought of Rudra having an ex makes me squirm, but there’s nothing I can do about his past. He’s singlenow, or I think he is.
Wait.
What if he’snotsingle?
You’re being paranoid, I assure myself. He is very single, and it shouldn’t matter to me even if he weren’t, because I’m not hoping for anything with him. Or at the very least I’m trying not to.
“I think we should get Mansi and Priti alone sometime during noon, so we can give both of them the time to gather their emotions and make a decision in the right headspace,” I say. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of them, and there’s no guarantee Mansi doesn’t actuallywantthis wedding. She might’ve moved on, unlike Priti.”
“I doubt it,” Rudra says. “They didn’t break up that long ago. There’s a good chance that whoever this Mansi is marrying is a rebound. It’s not even been a year since she and Priti ended things.”
“We still can’t tell Priti about our plans,” I say. “She doesn’t want us interfering in any of this, or she would’ve told us—at least you—the real reason why she’s been so desperate to get to Goa on time. But we’ve got to help her out.”
“See, Priti might bow out at the last moment and decide to not go to the wedding at all. So we will need a contingency plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“If she tries to back out, we’ll need to let her in on our plan to sabotage this wedding so we can convince her to take the plunge.” Rudra’s jaw sets. “You should also probably get in touch with Amrit and learn more details so we don’t screw anything up. If we’re going to help Priti, let’s do it right.”
I chew at my lower lip, my mind going back to the message Amritleft me. I can’t text him asking for details about the wedding and completely ignore thestill thinking about youmessage he sent me last.Do I reply with a simpleme tooand make up an excuse even though it would be a blatant lie at this point? It’s not right to raise someone’s hopes and lead them on like that, is it?
“I’m going to bonk my head into a wall,” I mutter, not knowing I’ve said it out loud until I find Rudra looking at me, a confused expression lining his face. “Sorry,” I add hastily, “I’m just stressed.”
“Because you’re meeting Amrit soon?” Rudra asks, his eyes darkening.
“No... maybe.. I don’t know,” I say, a little struck by the intensity of his gaze. “It’s just all a mess. And I hate to admit it, but you were right.”
“Right about what?”
“About me building it up to a fairy tale in my head. About me being delulu about the wholeromanceof it.” I’m saying way more than I intended to, but the words just keep pouring out.
“For the record—I don’t think you’re delulu.”
I snort. “Please don’t saydelulu. It doesn’t suit you. Like, at all.”
“My point stands,” he says, and leans toward me, scanning my face in a manner that makes me hyperaware of every single cell in my body, before adding, “and to be honest, any guy who wouldn’t trip over his own foot wondering what he did to deserve someone like you traveling across cities to kiss him would be an idiot.”
“That’s...” I pause, struggling to maintain a hold on my wits. “I hope that’s true.” At this point, what Amrit thinks of me doesn’t really matter, because everything’s changed, but I can’t tell Rudra or Priti that. They both need to believe I’m still headed to Goa to kiss Amrit.
They can’t know my emotions have taken a one-eighty.
“Guys don’t admit it, because of toxic masculinity or whatever, but we appreciate grand gestures more than you might think, especially because they hardly ever happen to us. They would be lying if they said they don’t like to be spoiled sometimes.” A flicker of emotion passes through Rudra’s eyes so quickly I almost miss it. “I hope Amrit realizes how lucky he is.”
I open my mouth to respond when his eyes suddenly dart to a spot behind me. For a moment I think it’s a wild animal and completely freeze, not wanting to move in case there’s a chance any movement might get me eaten up. But Rudra smiles. “Hey, look.”
I turn back, craning my neck. Up a twisting, rocky path that splits into two, there’s a flash of light. The path to the right is shaded by overhanging branches and thick trees, and fireflies festoon the bridge like fairy lights coiling around an arch.
A gasp slips through my parted lips, and Rudra gets to his feet, motioning for me to follow him. Sticking close, we walk to the fork in the path, take the right, and find ourselves on an ascent, right under the arch.
I can’t form coherent words to express how beautiful it is, so I just stare, rotating on the spot, looking at the fireflies. There’s so many of them here, even more than we saw on the trek up to the campsite, shimmering in patterns so mathematical it’s like they’re all following a precise atomic clock of their own.
“There’s one sitting in your hair,” Rudra says, smiling up at me. He’s standing on a rock lower than mine, so I’m an inch or so taller than him now. I twist around, trying and failing to locate the stray firefly that has found a second home in my hair.
“I can’t see it!” I say, frustrated.
