Revenge Formula

eleven

🎈👠  chapter eleven . . .

it was nice to take a break in between, you know?

they'd made a narrow escape from being found out yesterday, and she didn't want to risk it again by staying around the hotel while all the guests were arriving for tomorrow's engagement party. 

so, no, staying was a huge risk—and simran didn't play with taking risks. that just wasn't her style.

so, simran and ayan had spent the next day going around town for a little sight-seeing (and lots of shopping, in simran's case!)

if you're taking revenge on someone, you might as well do it in style.

and her wardrobe needed a refresh anyway.

and now, they'd exited yet another shop, and ayan was carrying her bags behind her.

"you should buy something for yourself." simran remarked, because she'd brought at least four pairs of heels (from her credit card, of course) in the past three hours, and ayan hadn't even looked at anything for longer than three seconds.

ayan was carrying four bags on one arm, three on the other. he almost dropped one bag as he tried to keep up with her.

it wasn't too many bags, right?

ayan let out an awkward chuckle, "i'm trying to save."

trying to save?  that made her feel like a huge spender.

her dad would say that she has a slight shopping addiction, but simran disagreed. you can never have too many clothes!

"good luck with that." simran replied. she was paying for their stay here, and he was still trying to save? chivalry is dead.

"so the engagement's tomorrow—" ayan began.

"oh, i know." simran replied, turning to him. the sound of her heels clicking against the tiles resonated around the place, "i haven't forgotten."

just taking a break . . .

"no, i mean, what's your plan, simran?" ayan asked.

ah. her plan. she was waiting for him to ask her that.

"we need to swipe rishabh's phone first, possibly tomorrow morning." she said, and she said it like it was the simplest thing ever.

ayan's eyes went slightly wide, "what?"

"swipe rishabh's phone, ayan. keep up." simran frowned.

simran thought that it might've taken ayan a moment to recover from that. 

"what the fuck, simran?! that's a fucking offense!" ayan exclaimed, exasperated.

"oh please, ayan! don't be such a baby! we'll keep it back as soon as we're done." simran chided.

ayan just blinked at her.

listen, it's the only way that's gonna work, okay? simran knows what she's going for—exactly what she's going for.

"okay." ayan said finally, "suppose we did get his phone—what the hell are you gonna do with it?" he asked her.

"i heard from one of simone's uncles in the hallway that the groom's side is getting the cake for the engagement. now, rishabh's family doesn't give a shit. he's probably gonna get the cake by himself. we'll change the order—and give them a little 'message' from me." simran explained.