All Strings Attached

Chapter Three

"Sita is single," he says, his eyebrows raising to get a reaction from me, "and she's also a very dear friend."

"Didn't she tie us Rakhis at one point?" I ask him, trying to alter his memory, as I attempt to get my family to leave a certain Cherukuri out of this.

"Please," Dhruv scoffs, "Thathayya had Sita and Nitya come over to tie us Rakhis but Sita never tied you one 'cause she thought you were a nasty person."

And he remembers. Of course he remembers. It annoyed me so much that she wouldn't tie me a rakhi back then, even if I made it a point not to show her how annoyed I was.

She's such a strong-minded person, always has been.

"Or maybe it's 'cause she had a crush on me," I suggest the more plausible theory. 

"She clearly said she didn't want to tie you one because she didn't like you," Dhruv reminds me, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "You can't not remember how mad it made you," he says further, peering into my face for a reaction.

"I don't remember insignificant details." I roll my eyes for the added effect. "Since we've now established that the lack of interest is mutual, can you move on?"

"Anyone old enough to marry is either married, engaged, or in a relationship," he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "looks like you're going to end up old, single, and lonely."

"You're begging for a beating," I threaten him, making an action to throw the pillow at him.

Dhruv braces himself, ready to hold the pillow, so I wait until he's relaxed and grinning like an idiot again, before I throw it square in his face.

"Ugh," he groans, pushing the pillow off of himself, and jogs after me as I walk toward the stairs to go up to my room. "When do you want to leave for the party?"

"Around eight?" I suggest, "we'll say hi to whoever we need to say hi to, eat some food and come back home."

"We can leave at eight," he agrees, "say hi to whoever, eat some food, and you come back home and I leave with my girlfriend," he finishes.

I stop to turn and look at him. "You didn't want Amma to know who you are spending the night with your girlfriend," I realise.

"Would you want Amma to know if you were spending the night with a girl?" He asks.

"No," I agree, and continue walking, disregarding my idea to blackmail Dhruv. "I'll see you at eight."

"See you at eight," he acknowledges, typing on his phone as we part ways to go to our rooms.

~.~.~.~.~.~

"Whose engagement is it?" I ask Dhruv, taking the turn into the venue.

Dhruv looks through the window to see the posters of the bride and the groom, and seems to recognise them, "Do you know Vanya?" He asks.

"I can't recognise her," I answer.

"The chemical factory people," he explains.

"Ah, those people," I realise. "Who is the groom?"

"Vidyut Nair," he answers, "the Mallu industrialist from Dubai."

"Oh. I've heard the name, wouldn't recognise him."

"He's not from around here," Dhruv says, complacently.

"How do you think they met?" I wonder.

"I think it's an arranged marriage," he answers, "Vanya went to university in the states and spent most of her time around there and Europe, Vidyut has spent most of his life between Dubai and India."