I let out a slow breath, shifting my weight slightly as I stand beside the table. “When have I ever ignored your calls?”
She raises a brow instantly. “You didn’t reply to my last text two days ago.”
I remember the message. It was yet another one of her matchmaking attempts. Some distant relative’s cousin who, apparently, was perfect for me. According to Meher, she was ‘exactly my type,’whatever that meant. It felt as if I were just waiting to be paired with the next available option. The moment I read it, I left it at seen and moved on.
Ayaan’s laughter pulls me back to the moment.
“Come on, Raghav,” he says, shaking his head. “You are the least active member on the family WhatsApp group as well.”
I roll my eyes because they’re right. A few months ago, Meher created a group that includes the Shergills, the Walias, and even Krish and Trisha. It’s constantly buzzing with conversationsabout spouses, husband-wife issues, kids, and more. As the only single person in the group, I hardly have anything to contribute, nor am I particularly interested.
Ayaan’s smile fades slowly as he simply looks at me, his gaze reading more than what is being said. “You okay?” he asks.
Being fraternal twins, Ayaan and I share that unique ability to sense each other’s distress. He’s the only one who can take one look at me and know exactly where I stand, what I’m carrying, and what I’m not saying. It’s always been like that between us.
I exhale slowly and lift my hand, showing him the pendant resting in my palm. “This came off last night,” I say. “And no matter how many times I tried… I couldn’t fix it back.”
Ayaan’s expression changes. He knows what that pendant means to me. I glance down at it again, pressing the tiny hook with my thumb as it slips from my fingers yet again. Before he can say anything, Meher leans closer to the screen and smiles.
“Such emotional things need a touch of love to be fixed.”
Love? Seriously?
I stare at her for a second and scoff. “Don’t give me your bookish ideas,” I say flatly. “Save them for your husband.”
Ayaan rolls his eyes and lets out another low laugh. “Raghav, don’t forget that those very ideas and bookish romance are the reason you’re about to officially become a‘chachu’ (uncle)in three months.”
“Exactly,” Meher adds, her face lighting up. Her hand instinctively moves to her six-month baby bump as she rubs it with a glowing smile.
I look at her for a moment, and a faint smile touches my lips. Ever since the news of her pregnancy has been out, the entire family has been overcome with joy, eagerly waiting and counting down the days for the arrival of their twins.Yes, twins.It still feels strange. My brother’s children are about to be born.
Just two and a half years ago, I met my brother, Ayaan for the first time. And now, the next generation of our family is already on the way into this world, whether I’m ready for it or not. But one thing is clear. When their babies arrive, they will not just be Ayaan’s to care for. They will be my responsibility too.
Meher’s voice pulls me back. “And I want my kids’chachuto be there when they’re born.”
I hold her gaze briefly, then nod once. “I’ll be there.”
Her smile deepens, but she doesn’t stop there.
“And I don’t want you to be alone when you see them for the first time either,” she continues. “Theirchachi(aunt) should be right there beside you.”
I exhale slowly, already knowing where this is going.
“Either you tell us who she is…” she adds, tilting her head just a little, “or we choose one for you. Because I’m honestly tired of your suspense, Raghav. Who was that mysterious woman who left her ridiculously expensive sandal with you nine months ago?”
Just as the words leave her mouth, I hear the familiar voice of that very woman.
“How could you do this to me, RK?”
Siya.
Before I can even look up, she walks straight into the frame, into my space, into the call… completely unaware of what she has just interrupted. She stops in front of me, steps closer, and raises her wrists.
“How could you tie my wrists last night?” she asks angrily. “Now look what happened. I’ve got bruises, all thanks to you. And let me tell you, they are painful. In fact, my whole body is aching after last night’s struggle.”
For a brief moment, everything around me goes still. I know exactly what she means. Every word, every moment of last night comes rushing back. But the silence on the other end of thescreen shifts into something else entirely. I don’t even need to look at the iPad to know what Ayaan and Meher are thinking. Or worse, what they areassuming.
Night. Struggles. Bruises. Wrists tied. Whole body aching.
