All Strings Attached

Chapter Six

"That's not good," I manage to sound, between chewing my lip off.

"It isn't," Dhushyanth agrees. "But my father insists on seeing yours, tomorrow morning," he says, "he says he needs to talk to Madhav uncle."

"No," I cry, holding my head. "That's insane. What is he going to speak to him about?"

"The pictures, if at all there are any," he answers, "He wants to talk to your dad so we can prepare for whatever before it happens."

"You're making it seem like we're at war," I joke, stupidly, in the middle of this very intense conversation.

"We may as well be," he says solemnly. "I'm sorry you got caught in the crossfires of whatever political animosity the party has with this news channel."

"It's my fault as much as yours," I attempt to shoulder the blame.

"I should have known better."

"Why?" I jab with humour, "just because you're an old man and I'm a baby?"

He chuckles, half-heartedly. "Because I've been preparing to live my life in the public view, and you've only ever wanted to be away from it."

"I am sorry too," I apologise, staying put in the car to finish this conversation. "I said too much this morning. I should not have."

"You always say too much," he says, "you've never apologised so far."

A solemn smile takes over me. "Do you think they're going to force us to get married?"

"My father threatened to have my head if I as much as breathe in your direction," Dhushyanth relays to me. "I don't think he would be very keen to force us to marry."

"My father might threaten you too," I warn him, internally grimacing at the thought of my father getting wind of this situation. "He is very protective. He might think a forced marriage is better than to tarnish his reputation."

Dhushyanth waits a moment before he says, "I wouldn't want it if you were opposed to it."

"It's why I said forced, Reddy."

"I could sneak you out of the country if you wanted," he offers.

"Can't run away after I fuck up, can I?" I lean against the window, looking at the towering structure of our home. Where would I go, leaving all of this behind?

"You could," he answers, "you just don't want to."

"You could, too," I reciprocate. "If you could sneak me out, you very well could leave the country yourself."

"My life's here."

"So is mine."

~.~.~.~.~

My mother enters my room with a glass of milk, later that evening. "Dhushyanth and his family are coming over tomorrow for breakfast," she says, watching me for a reaction. "Did something happen between you two?"

"I didn't ask for milk," I let her know, accepting the glass.

"I thought it would be good for you," she says, "you must've been stressed about the media throughout the day."

"Thank you," I take her explanation. "Why do you think something happened between Dhushyanth and I?"

"Normally, they wouldn't concern themselves with something like this," my mother explains, "when people accused your father of illegally acquiring lands, he never once said anything, and it died out. But this seems to be different."

I don't say anything to my mother, afraid she might disown me right this second. I calmly drink my milk, neither accepting nor denying what she says.

"Sita—" she places a comforting hand on my knee— "you can tell me if something happened. I will understand."