Husband For Hire

36. Promise?

I clapped. For the first time, I approved Sunny's actions for standing up for his wife.

"That's sweet," I had to admit. "Maybe we should give him a chance. What if he came all the way here to patch things with you? Oh, I wish I had seen him fighting for you. That's romantic!"

"It's too late for a patch up," she said shaking her head "I'm more upset I have to share the room with him. He should've kept his mouth shut."

"When are you gonna tell him you're pregnant?" I asked. "He ought to know."

"Never," she said with a straight face. "You won't tell anyone either that I was ever pregnant."

I stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"Annie, I can't . . . " she said tearfully. "In the middle of divorce. I don't want this—"

"Jhanvi, you're talking nonsense—"

"Doctor said it's not too late—"

"Shut up," I said horrified by her words. "You're distressed. You need to clear your mind and talk to Sunny about this. I'm sure he'll do anything to fix his mistakes and be good to you and the child. I'll talk to him."

"No, Annie. I can't forgive him," she said, grabbing my forearm, tears spilling on her cheeks. "Don't you dare tell him!"

"Okay, okay," I said, not wanting her more stressed. "We'll discuss this another time. Let's get ready. We're going to the Golden Temple."

"What—?"

She definitely needed God.

"I'll tell everyone," I told her. "Come on. Chop chop."

While she rose up to change her clothes, I went to the living room where Ashar's baba was watching something on his phone at the loudest volume setting. He sat on a ancient looking armchair. When he saw me waiting, he paused his video.

"Have a seat," he said gesturing to the sofa. "Is everything okay?"

I nodded. "Jhanvi and I wanted to visit the Golden Temple. I checked on Google. It's only twenty minutes from here. We were—"

"Of course, we can go," he said standing up in a heartbeat. He didn't even let me finish my sentence.

"No, no," I said politely, "we don't want to inconvenience you. We'll go and come back quickly."

"Rubbish," he said dismissively. "What inconvenience? And you can't go alone. It'll be hard. We'll all go. Tell Ashar and Arsalan to get ready."

"But—"

The old man paid no heed to my words as he went running around the house. His wife was overexcited by the idea of spending the evening at the Gurdwara.

It dawned on me a little late that they thought their daughter-in-laws were religious girls despite being raised in America.

Little did they know, the last time Jhanvi and I had visited a temple was ten years ago. We had only gone because one of our close family friends held a Diwali puja there. None of us were religious. But Jhanvi and I were interested in visiting and learning more.

Jhanvi's interest died when she heard the whole house was traveling together to Sri Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple). It was too late to back out or fake sickness now.

Ashar's baba forced the brothers to get ready to take their wives to the Golden Temple. In fact, he gave the guys black Kurta pajamas to wear.

I wanted to laugh initially at the uncomfortable look on Ashar's face, but the fitting of the kurta was perfect. It made his arms appear more muscular and his chest broader. When I had grinned at him studying his outfit up and down, he had held up a finger in my direction.