All Strings Attached

Chapter Four

"Great, I'll see you soon," I say before hanging up.

"Why did you tell your father I was asking about him?" My mother asks, successfully slapping my arm this time.

"Cause you were," I defend myself, rubbing my arm. "But if these TV people don't stop speaking about my wedding today, you see what I'll do."

"Rich father's spoilt daughter," my mother comments, shaking her head.

"Rich father's helpless daughter," I correct, indignantly, "they think my marriage is their business just because my father is a politician?"

"We're always in the public eye, Sita, you can't lose your mind over one TV announcement."

~.~.~.~.~.~

Meera nearly gets run over by my car as she laughs her ass off on seeing me and my sullen face in the back of my mother's car.

"Shut up," I order, sourly. "It's not funny."

"It's so funny," she insists, "can you imagine? Dhushyanth and you?"

"I don't want to," I answer, sighing, truly tired of the media's attention. "They won't shut up about it."

"I know," she says, hugging me. "But it'll be fine," she attempts to comfort me. "They have nothing of real substance to show or say about the two of you- they'll get tired of the yapping."

I hadn't even thought of it that way.

Meera's words do little to comfort me. Good lord in heaven. Do they have pictures of me and Dhushyanth?

But they would've already published them if they did?

I'm done for.

Maybe I should text Dhushyanth.

I'm so fucking done for. What the actual fuck? How drunk was I?

I slightly tilt away from Meera so she can't see who I am texting, and type a quick message to Dhushyanth Reddy.

Did you see the news?

Do you think they have pictures of us?

Dhushyanth's response comes two minutes later.

What pictures?

The news, Reddy. Watch the fucking news!

"Who are you texting?" Meera asks, narrowing her eyes at me, suspiciously.

"No one," I shrug, locking my phone and putting it away.

"You couldn't have been texting someone that doesn't exist," she pushes for an answer.

"No one you know," I elaborate, lying.

Meera doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press further. Dhushyanth's call comes as soon as we get out of the car to go into the saree shop.

"I know Dhushyanth Reddy," Meera says, peeking into my phone.

I don't bother lying anymore. "You go in, first. I'll be there in a minute."

"Something's up," she declares, "I better hear of it when you come in."

I sigh, cursing my drunk self for my plight. Why did I have to go to the party? Why did Dhushyanth have to be there? Why did I have to be fucking drunk and horny?

How am I going to explain this to Meera?

"Hello?" I answer, picking up the second time he calls because the first call rings out while I convince Meera to go inside the store.