PROLOGUE
Mishti Singhania blinked back tears as she ran down the corridor to reach the gardens. The night air was crisp, welcoming and in desperation, she ran into the darkened gardens.
Once hidden from view, She exhaled deeply and slowed her pace. She was finally safe. Her mother would certainly be angry at her cowardice, but nothing could have kept Mishti from fleeing the scene of her latest embarrasment.
Mishti (thinking) : I should never have thought that things would be different.
She plopped herself down on one of the benches there and tried to stop thinking of it again and again.
She was Mishti Rhea Singhania, The second child and eldest daughter of the late Naitik Singhania, the managing partner of the hugely successful law firm, Singhania and Singhania Firms. Her elder brother who was just 26 was the other name partner in the firm . Their family was very well known and they were number 12 in the Rajkot Elite.
So, By all means, she should have been the darling of the society coveted by one and all. But no, the truth was that Mishti had spent the past hour being ignored by her fellow peers. She was considered too much of a nerd and a bluestocking for people to have any interest in what she had to say.
She had not been asked to dance, No one even wished to converse or gossip with her. They smiled at her politely and then completely ignored her. Mishti was very dejected.
Mishti (thinking) : What's the use of being a member in the Rajkot Elite if they don't acknowledge you? What's the use of having all this money and prestige?
She sighed. She looked at the dress she wore. It was shocking pink and looked absolutely terrible on her. But she remembered her mother's words : The Elite are always bright, cheerful and pink defines that colour. Mishti. You will wear this dress and show everyone that you are someone who belongs in High Class Society.
The dress, her mother had assured her, was the very height of fashion. When Mishti had suggested that the dress was not the most flattering to her figure, she had been informed by the woman that she was incorrect. Mishti would look stunning, her mother had promised. And, as she watched herself in the dress that day, she had begun to agree with her. She did look stunning in this dress. Stunningly awful.
Wrapping her arms tightly around her to ward of the evening chill, she closed her eyes in mortification.
Mishti : I'm never going back over there.
A deep chuckle resonated in her ears and she whirled around to see where it had orginated. She could barely make out the figure of a man as she pulled herself up to her full height and attempted to slow her pounding heart. Before she could think to escape, she spoke, allowing her distaste for the entire evening to show in her tone.
Mishti : You shouldn't sneak up on people in the dark.
The male voice let out another chuckle, but he responded quickly.
Voice : I'm sorry. But maybe you shouldn't lurk around in dark gardens.
Mishti : But I'm not lurking around in the dark. I'm merely hiding.
Voice : Oh! Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about you. But you may as well come to the light. No one else is here.
Mishti knew he was right. What would be the harm in showing herself to him? Surely nothing else could go wrong.
She stepped forward until she reached where he was and stood under the lamp post. Then she saw him and knew she was wrong. Everything was about to turn much, much worse.
Mishti : Mr Rajvansh!
Her companion was the Abir Rajvansh—charming, devastatingly handsome, and number 6 in Rajkot Elite. His wicked reputation was matched only by his wicked smile, which was aimed directly at Mishti.
Abir was reputed to be a shrewd and savvy businessman, though many felt that he didn't belong in the Elite, given his parents' scandalous story. However, Abir was richer than King Midas and there were very few people who dared to cross him.
Mishti felt like buckling to the ground. She was caught by Abir Rajvansh. She could not let him see her. Not like this, trussed up like a bad valentine.
Mishti (whispering) : Oh no!
Abir continued smiling at her with amusement.
Abir : What happened, Sweetheart?
The lazy endearment warmed her even as she looked about for an escape route. He was close enough to touch now, towering over her. For the first time in a long time, she felt small. Dainty, even. She had to escape.
Mishti : I... I must get back.
Abir : But who are you? Wait.. Go back under the light. Yes, That's right. Oh wait... You are Naksh Singhania's sister, Aren't you? I saw you earlier.
Mishti rolled her eyes.
Mishti (sarcastically) : Of course you did. Dressed as I am, It's a wonder a blind person didn't notice me.
She covered her mouth immediately, shocked that she had spoken so baldly. He chuckled.
Abir : Well, I can't agree that this dress looks good on you, but that can be rectified.
She couldn't help her own laughter from slipping out. He sat on a nearby bench and indicated that she should as well. After a moment's hesitation, she did so.
Mishti : I'm sure Mumma won't allow me to change. She thinks I look absolutely stunning. I agree. It's just the next word that I disagree with. Mumma doesn't quite know what to do with me. She longs for a girl who loves these types of fripperies. Luckily for me, Mrs Singhania can lavish her attentions on my sister and I can remain a happy spinster for life.
Abir looked at her quizzically.
Abir : What makes you think you'll be a spinster?
Mishti (chuckling) : Have you seen anyone talk to me tonight? When they can't even talk to me, how is anyone supposed to consider marrying me? Apparently, I'm too learned.
Abir blinked.
Abir : Umm.. How is one considered to be too learned?
Mishti shrugged.
Mishti : I don't know. All I know is that no one's going to be tempted by me.
Abir (shaking his head) : That's not true.
His voice lowered, soft and rich as he reached out to stroke her cheek. Her breath caught, and she wondered at the intense wave of awareness coursing through her.
She leaned into his caress, unable to resist, as he moved his hand to grasp her chin.
Abir (whispering) : What's your name?
Mishti : Mishti Rhea Singhania.
Abir : Mishti as in sweet?
She nodded. He smiled and nodded as well.
Abir : I must meet your mother properly. Anyone who is ready to name their child something light yet raise them to be fierce is a woman to be reckoned with.
Mishti warmed at his words but looked at him doubtfully.
Mishti: People do not think Mishti is a nice name.
Abir: Nonsense. We have too many Durgas, Nishas and all these other common names. There are many ambitious namesakes but the world could do with a little sweetness. Yours is an excellent namesake.
She was speechless in the wake of his frank lecture. Before she had a chance to reply, he continued
Abir: I must go back to the party. So should you, Miss Singhania. Even if this is your house, It's not safe here. Besides, Don't let the others think they've hurt you. Walk with your head held high. Can you do that?
He gave her chin a final tap and stood, leaving her cold at his desertion. She stood with him and nodded, starry-eyed.
Abir smiled once more.
Abir : Good girl.
He leaned closer and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, then whispered, his breath fanning the hair at her nape, warming her in the cool night.
Abir: Remember you are sweet but you're also a Goddess. You have the power to vanquish the wrong and stand up for what's right. Don't let them browbeat you.... My Goddess.
Before Mishti could respond, He walked further into the darkness, away from the party. Even if she could, Mishti couldn't stop herself from following him. She followed him until he reached the farthest corner of the garden.
She did not think twice before following him, so keen was she to be near him. At that moment, she would have followed him anywhere, this prince among men who had noticed her, not her elite status, or her horrible dress, but her!
If I am a Goddess, he is the only man worthy of being my Lord.
But that was when she heard it. She squinted and focused on Abir closely. His hands were around another girl's waist and they were kissing.
Mishti stepped back into the shadows, peering around the corner, half-wishing she hadn't followed, entirely unable to turn away from their embrace. My, how they kissed.
And, deep in the pit of her stomach, youthful surprise was replaced with a slow burn of jealousy, for she had never in all her life wanted to be someone else so very much. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it was she in his arms: her long, delicate fingers threading through his dark, gleaming hair; her lithe body that his strong hands stroked and molded; her lips he nibbled and his heart crying her name out.
But then, Reality struck her and she smiled sadly.
She was no Goddess, and would never be.