All Strings Attached

Chapter Four

She looks up at me from the pile of sarees. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, try a new colour. That pink will make you glow," I tell her, "or you could try a yellow, it's very festive."

"I'll look like an emoji," Meera complains.

"Try the green, then," I tell her, "I like the border, too."

She pouts, thinking, playing with her wedding ring. "I'll try the green," she agrees. "Can someone help me drape it? I want to show Veer as well."

One of the female salespeople comes to us with a waistband and heels. "Let me help you, madam," she says.

They make Meera stand in front of a full length mirror and carefully drape the saree around her, using the vadraanam, or the golden cummerbund to hold the saree in place around her waist, and offer her the heels to use if she'd like, but Meera refuses.

She poses for me, and I take a picture of her and show her. She nods, and sends it off to Veer, I think. His reply is instant, and puts a bright smile on her sullen face.

"So we're getting it, then?"

She nods, grinning at her phone. "This is it."

"You can thank me later," I joke, trying to ease the tension between us, but she looks up from her phone with a 'don't fuck with me' face and I force a smile back in a final attempt to see if she'd break, but nah, Meera Jaiswal doesn't break.

"Fine," I grunt. "Pack the saree, please."

They help Meera undo the saree, and she steps back into her sandals. "You'd better have your explanation ready," she threatens as we pay the bill for her saree.

"Meera—"

"You'd better not lie to me, Sita."

The cashier looks between the two of us, making me feel extremely conscious about the conversation we're having. "Are you done?" I enquire.

He nods, giving us the bill for our purchase. "Thank you for your purchase," he says, "hope to see you again."

I take the bag, and link arms with Meera as we walk out of the store. "I'm not stupid, Sita," Meera says. "Is there more to the pictures from last night?"

"Promise me you won't get mad," I ask her.

"Bitch, you'll be lucky if you're alive at the end of this," she threatens.

"Come on, Meera," I plead, "I'm already having a tough time with this situation."

"And I have your back," she tells me, "but I don't appreciate being lied to."

"I was embarrassed!" I try to explain, "I wasn't keeping it from you just because I felt like it!"

"What were you embarrassed about?" She questions, crossing her arms over her chest.

I gulp. "A few years—"

"A few years?!" She whisper yells at me. "You kept something from me for years?"

I close my eyes, rubbing my face, as I try to find the words for this mess. 

"You don't get to—"

"I know," I agree, looking at her, "but I'm having a really tough day, and I already hate myself right now; for lying to you, for fucking up, for being unmarried at 27 which is apparently the biggest crime a girl in this country commits."

Meera purses her lips. "Tell me," she says, and I can see her wall has gone up. She's disappointed, she's unhappy. 

"I've hooked up with Dhushyanth," I tell her, making her gasp. "Multiple times." Her eyes get impossibly wider at this point, but I continue, truthfully, seeing no merit in hiding anything from her anymore. "It started a few years ago; in London, we were all there at the same time for family vacations, and met up for dinner one night— we somehow woke up in my room the next morning."

"Somehow? How do you somehow wake up with a boy in your bed?"

I greet Mahendra uncle and his wife, Sarika Aunty with a polite smile, and hug Dhruv, but stick to expressing my distaste for Dhushyanth with a sardonic smile, which he returns with a full-blown grin.

"Miss me, tiger?"

"Fuck off, Reddy," I whisper back.

"Good to know you love me just as much as before," he whispers, his warm breath fanning my ear lobe, causing tremors to shoot through my body.

When was the last time I was with a man?

Not since Manav, and we broke up three months ago. We hadn't had sex for two months before that, because I kept dodging him, unable to tell him I was losing feelings. Eventually Manav realised the lack of sex before he acknowledged the absence of romance and broke up with me.

Should I have talked to him and cleared it out like a mature adult?

Yes.

Did I?

No. Which is why I deserved being dumped. I knew as much.

"A freaking minus three thousand," I clarify. That's how old this story is, when Avengers: End Game was still relevant. Which might not be the best index for measurement. Let me just say two- maybe two and a half years ago.

"Sassy," he comments, "can't imagine your boyfriend appreciates that."

He didn't. He had no appreciation for my sass; he never understood it enough for that.

"I don't have one." I didn't have to clarify, but I did.

"Dhushyanth," my father speaks to him, "are we seeing you venture into politics next season?"

Reddy chuckles, next to me. "If all is well, with all of your support, I suppose so, uncle."

"Maybe you could motivate my daughter to join you," he says, "I think she has the capability—"

"I think I'd rather not," I cut him off. "It is a matter of interest rather than capability."

"I agree," Dhushyanth says, "I think Sita will do great things where she's interested."

"I can be a politician," Nitya quips, making the table laugh out loud.

"Finish your degree, first," my mother tells her, "and then we can consider a political career."

"Sita," Sarika aunty addresses me, "what are you doing now? You've finished your master's degree, yes?"

"I have, aunty," I answer, "I'm working as a PR consultant in Bangalore, but I think I might resign soon to start my business."

"Oh, that's impressive," she says, "why Bangalore, though? All of us are in Hyderabad."

I giggle, making eye contact with my father, who nods in agreement with Sarika aunty. "That's why Bangalore."

Sarika Aunty chuckles as well. "That's fine, then, maybe you'd consider moving in a few years," she says.

"We never know," I concede.

"Ah, is that why your father thinks you have the capability to be a politician?" Sarika Aunty questions, jokingly. "You dodge questions like they do."

The table laughs loudly, while I merely smile with embarrassment. "I guess I do have that quality down."

"Please teach Dhushyanth," she says, "he needs lessons in diplomacy."

I give her a meek smile in return, but smirk at Dhushyanth. "Maybe some manners too," I taunt him in a whisper.

"Will you teach me?" He asks, his dark eyes boring into mine in a way that makes me think he doesn't mean lessons in manners or diplomacy.

I tilt my head. "Would you like some?"

"I think you'll learn some as you teach some." His eyes twinkle with his grin.

"Oh?"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."