My aunt dabbed at my brow with a tissue, her touch gentle but persistent. “You’ll ruin your makeup, Ish.”
“I need air.” I sidestepped her, pushing through the cluster of cousins and aunties I didn’t even know, their chatter a cacophonous buzz. The balcony door slid open, and I gulped in the cool evening air, but it didn’t help. The spinning in my stomach didn’t stop. The fire in my chest didn’t cool.
My eyes darted across the manicured lawns below. Locked gates, armed men, cameras blinking red in the twilight. No escape.
Calm down. Breathe. Compartmentalize.
A hard rap on the bedroom door cracked my resolve. Voices drifted through the balcony door—my aunt's, then a name that made my blood run cold.
Voices drifted through the balcony door before my aunt called out, “Ajay’s family will be here any minute now, Ishika.”
I stepped back inside, my fingers already working the buttons of my blouse. Mumbled words tumbled from my lips, incoherent, desperate.
“What are you doing?” my aunt asked.
I paused, lifting a flustered gaze to her shocked face. My whisper grew louder, cutting through the room’s chatter. “Everyone. Out.” I glanced around. You’d think I was getting married with the amount of dress-up and excitement going on in this room. Then again, a typical Indian home made every event a flamboyant one of color, spark and brightness no matter how begrudging the bride appeared.
“I need space,” I grumbled.
My aunt sighed, the sound heavy with understanding. “Okay, girls, let’s give her some time. She shepherded them out, pausing at the door to look back at me. Her eyes were soft, sad. “I know you don’t want this, Ish. But you know your uncle, he’s not going to back down.” My bottom lip between my teeth, I nodded. She left, closing the door with a soft click.
The silence was heavenly. I tore the rest of the clothes from my body, rushing to the bathroom in my underwear. The cool tiles were a shock under my bare feet just before my stomach heaved and seconds later, I hurled the contents of my half-eaten breakfast into the toilet. When nothing but dry heaves resonated around the room, I stood, flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the woman gazing back at me. Usually, my make-up was a light dusting of blush, eyeliner, a touch of mascara and subtle lip gloss. Simple and chic. Now, I gaped at the stranger beneath layers of shit I didn’t understand the need for. While I tried to argue, my aunt’s insistence came in the form of a make-up artist and hairstylist descending upon my room barely seconds after I’d stepped out of the shower.
Turning the faucet, I splashed my face with the cold water, not caring that those hours of make-up were now ruined.
“Is it the marriage or him finding out your true purpose behind this sham of an engagement that’s got you hyperventilating?” The soft voice had me lifting my head with a smile.
I stared at my sister’s reflection in the mirror. “Both?” I bent over the sink again to dab my neck with the water. “What are you doing here?” Years ago, we’d made a pact never to be seen together until she’d quit her vigilante act to rid the world of an unseen enemy. “You said you’d be gone for a while.”
“I had to see you even though I can’t be there for the engagement.” Her gentle assurance had already begun easing my earlier panic. “Besides, you don’t need me to justify why you have to bite the bullet and accept this engagement,” she firmly reminded before her tone softened, “I’m going to fix this, okay?”
Having gone through the motions, knowing the reason I had to, I lifted my eyes to look at her reflection in the mirror again. With a soft nod, I reached for a towel and patted my cooling skin. I snorted an unladylike sound, attempting to blot the ruined make-up.
Dia leaned back against the wall behind her and played with a knife. Running her finger along the sharp blade, she lifted the digit to stare at the line of blood forming on the pad. Yet no wince, no flair of pain or shock obscured that unfeeling face. In black jeans, hoodie and sneakers, her beautiful frame lay hidden. No one could tell whether a male or female resided beneath those dark clothes and the yin yang mask she usually wore to conceal her identity.
“How’s Remo?” she asked softly.
“Arrogant as always.” I stared at her through the mirror. “Haven’t you seen him again?”
Slowly, she shook her head “Haven’t had time. Too many criminals to crucify.” She’d taken the lives of so many mafia men, I wondered if she’d ever stop. “Don’t ask,” she added as if reading my thoughts. “Until I find the man responsible, I’ll never rest.”
“How close are you?”
“Closer than he thinks.” She let out a soft laugh. “Just got to keep digging.”
Grinning, I stared at her in the mirror, the wet wipe paused under the eye I was cleaning. “Whether you like it or not, you need rest or you will burn out.”
She smiled. “One day, Ish, me and you will be free to embrace the lives we deserve and when that day comes, I’ll rest.”
“Ishika?” my aunt’s voice carried into the bathroom a second later.
“In here,” I called out rushing to the door to prevent her from coming inside.
“Ajay and his family are here and you’re not ready. Come, let me help you.” she tsked in that motherly tone, tugging on my arm.
Grunting an inaudible response, I snuck a glance over my shoulder as she lead me away. There was no sign of my sister. My gaze shifted to the open window, unworried. Given her training, her agility was enough to slip through, to jump the balconies despite my room being on the second floor.
