It was no dream.
Standing facing the mirror in this enormous room of Chauhan's personal suite in the business center, Shreya counted in her mind to calm her nerves. Her nails scraped her red lace fabric each time her mind wandered towards the impending doom.
Instead of admiring her thin strapped mermaid-style gown, she worried her bottom lips eating the third coat of cherry lipstick as the nerves hit her like a breakless truck. Crushing her confidence, ignoring her motivating self-talk, and killing the urge to walk out of the room. The piece was beautiful. Meant to be cherished by a bride who wasn't coerced into an engagement staged through an agreement.
She had shuffled the stylist hired by her mother, to run back screaming for hills with her glare and crude remarks, so much that the woman did not bother to turn up to the venue, leaving Shreya as the in-charge for hair and make-up. She was glad that Nainika peeped into the room after an hour and helped her straighten her locks. She had gone with the regular make-up process – primer, foundation, concealer, contour, blush, and some kajal for her eyes.
Begrudgingly she had let Nainika use eyeliner and mascara on her in the name of bold eyes.
The final touch-up was her matte cherry red lipstick that made her enticing – like a hooker.
Shut up.
Shaking her thoughts away, she glanced at her bare ring finger which would no longer remain empty, all in the next 27 minutes.
"Shreya." Her mother knocked on her room door for the fifth time in a span of 15 minutes that the party had come to life. Rashi and Gayatri Devi Chauhan had dropped by her and made her wear a diamond necklace and a bracelet as per the dress code.
Some family rituals where the Mother-in-law passes her jewelry to the new bride.
She had seen the ladies gift the same way to Dhwani some 32 months back but never to Uttara because the couple got married on a whim: no engagement, no pre-marriage rituals, but a wedding ceremony in the temple with the Chauhan family.
Uttara's family was not there.
Shreya did not bother then, and neither she was interested to know now.
All she cared about the fact was that she was being tied to a man she had dreamed of a relationship with some 10 years back.
Unaware of the level of her feelings for him, but yes, they were there.
She was ruling her actions until she had seen him express his like towards some girl who was not her.
The knock now had turned into a bang and she hurried towards the door to open before it was broken down, tripping on her way.
"Mom, have some patience!" She chided the woman, scowling at the glare shot her way.
"They are asking for you." Devika seethed. "Will you step out or not?"
"I just needed a minute." Shreya rolled her eyes.
"Your minute was over long back." Devika yanked her out and closed the door with a bang, making her flinch out of any nervous jitters she felt. "You should be grateful that, that boy is marrying you, Shreya. Do you realize that they are Chauhans? The moment they look at us, our standards change to another pedestal and you are making them wait? Is this how you pay their kindness back?"
"He needs me, Mom." She stated, getting irked by her hero-worshipping Chauhans and Rakshit. "If I back out, he can do nothing to make me agree again."
"You love him, Shreya." Devika reminded her appalled at her thoughts.
Shreya watched her and chuckled to herself, a mocking laugh. "Exactly. There is nothing to be paid back."
How in the world were they ever portrayed to be in love?
Well, she loved him once.
Her scoff dropped at the realization.
Shit, she loved him once.
And she was getting engaged to him.
What the h..............
"Stop looking like you have witnessed a murder. Smile and step in as you deserve to be here. Go."
She was pushed into the hall, tripping on the 4-inch heels she had to carry according to this extravagant dress. Her eyes closed as her mind was convinced of her fall.
Two arms grabbed her waist, pulling her to a standstill and halting her fall.
"Were you falling for me?"
The amused steel grey eyes made her brown eyes morph into a glare.
"Never in your dreams." She pushed his hold away, straightening herself as he watched his lips twitch in amusement. Her eyes took a quick scan around the place and then rested on him, the sudden urge to irritate him took over her. "You look like a human."
As always, he was dressed in a prim and proper black suit but the only detour was the burgundy silk tie that was crooked near the knot and her instincts pushed her to straighten it. Fisting her palms, she looked away and tried kicking the urge out.
"Thank you for the compliment." He chuckled and took a leisurely once over at her, palms pocketed and his head tilted with his eyes staring right into her soul. "You look decent too, Ms. Thakur."
The change of address made her frown and she blinked to make out of his intentions. What was he playing at?
But unlike her brain wanting to think it through, she focused more on his eyes that rested on the diamond set she was gifted by his mother.
"What is so interesting?" She turned conscious feeling his heated stare on her collarbone.
"Admiring my family heirloom on you." He answered meeting her eyes. "Indeed, it looks like made for you."
She felt blood rushing to her neck and chest, complementing the dress. "Stop looking at me."
"Sure." He piped yet never looked away until the announcement from the center broke his stare. He glanced at his father calling for the guests' attention as the current chairman for Chauhan Industries. The spoon clinked with the champagne glass thrice and he glanced at her. "That's our cue."
Her cold palms met his warm hands and she felt the shiver run down her spine. Nodding in a daze, she let him guide her towards the crowd where the big shots of Mumbai- the financial capital of the country- stood.
Rakshit smiled and nodded at a few familiar faces and she followed his lead before coming to a standstill some 10 meters away from the main stage.
"...we started so long back with all your best wishes..." Harshvardhan Chauhan started his speech which she had half a mind to listen to.
"You should look more interested in being a family." His whisper caressed her earlobe, lips brushing closer than she would appreciate.
"So do you. Being his son." She shot leaning away and facing him with a cocked brow.
"Not when my interest lies so close to me." He said the words that made her swallow and turn back to the host.
"...the day is rather special today seeing my youngest son, Rakshit get tied to this very beautiful woman..."
Several eyes turned towards them and she tried salivating her throat, fingers tightening around his bicep. All in a show of being happy and so in love. The applause died and Harshvardhan shifted to another of the parts in his speech.
"We are not getting married." She felt the urge to state her stance. Eyes swept the room to not find any eavesdroppers but luckily, they stood in the middle with only some of the people who seemed engrossed in the words of one of the most powerful men in the country.
"Really?" He teased not glancing her way while she stared at him with trepidation.
"I mean it, Rakshit. This whole façade stops at this. We are not getting married." She was desperate at this point to make it clear. Engagement itself felt like a knot in her throat that she was getting difficult to swallow. Marriage was no option. It can never be. "We will stay engaged until your image clears and then we make up a story and call it off. I have been lying to everyone and I do not plan to do it more. I will not get married just because we have signed a contract. I can never."
"This is no place to discuss this." His jaw clenched, and so was his fist. "We will talk about this later."
"No, this is the best time." She defended "Marriage is no joke. You agree to this or I walk away from this engagement."
"You can try." He hissed. The place was crowded with people who could make or break the coming days for their new project. His grip turned bruising on her waist as he pinned her with a menacing glare. "Don't poke the bear, Shreya. My patience is thinning."
"What I am trying to do is to bring you on the same page as me, Rakshit." She tried again.
"Enough." He gritted snappily and she flinched at the venom in his tone, the icy chill oozing from him could freeze the entire world. "You do what you are supposed to and we talk this tomorrow. Understand?"
"Understood." She bit back and looked away from him, feeling the burning of anger in her veins. "Wish that I do not kill you before."
"Me too, Shreya."
Those were the last words he spoke to her before leaving her side and leaving her in the company of his mother who introduced her to her circle.
She tried small talk but soon tired out of them as the heel bit into her skin, making standing difficult.
"...and this is Mrs. Surbhi Desai. She is the face for the Desai foods products..." Rashi made her meet another of the influential ladies who had started a business and brought it to the height of success. Shreya would have loved to interact and learn more about their journey till here to satiate the curious journalist in her but her brain seemed to press only a certain set of steel eyes which she had never witnessed to be raging before.
Rakshit was always the mischievous, carefree, and good-naturedly humorous brother of the two other Chauhan brothers. He lived at his demands and handled problems in ways that may pile more shit around but that was what he will plan to clean when he needed to.
Well, shit.
She needs to stop thinking about him to focus on the positive outcomes of this charity event. She could make up connections, slip up conversations into the elite circles, and surf against the waves that could benefit her and end this job much before she should.
Take a snap of conversations and play them for your benefit.
She was taught once in her journalism classes how to change the flow and build it for your piece. She had to do just that.
"...she is Mrs. Shaziya Nigar." Rashi introduced her to another woman who stared at Shreya with utmost curiosity.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am." She smiled at the anchor of the Media house who also happened to be the wife of a businessman. A prominent new reader.
"I heard you worked Nationwide News until last year and then here in Mumbai." She started.
Shreya perfected a smile. "I did. I was in Delhi for quite a few years completing graduation, internship, and job. Later missed family so came back."
"You are the face of PR for Chauhans now." She pointed.
"Yes, Best friend duty called." Shreya joked.
"Only best friend duty? Or it has another reason?" Shaziya watched right through soul.
"Plenty." She answered unfazed at the interrogation. "One of them is this party. Could not miss being the center of attention for a day, could I?"
Shaziya laughed in good measure and Shreya felt her walls heightening, as if her mind was declaring war against this woman.
Let the conversation flow.
She chanted. She would have mastered and ruled the circle if not his familiar figure passed her peripheral and all her pep-talk to stop thinking about the said man flew right out of the window.
No rope attached.
She heard the ladies and men half-heartedly as he watched him hurrying towards a secluded corner and her intuition kicked in, screaming to follow him.
She waited for her to complete the part and acknowledged her not before politely excusing herself with a grace Rashi Chauhan looked proud of.
She hurried towards the corner where a set of couches and tables were neatly arranged against the wall. The area was less crowded yet the people were watching a group of five gushing and whispering hurriedly.
"...Bajaj? But why?"
It was Vidyut who frowned at the name with Uttara standing beside him with a pensive face.
"What do you mean why? Our dear brother invited his business partner here." Rakshit rolled his eyes standing as a pillar near his so-called favorite Bhabhi- Dhwani.
Now that she saw him acting as Dhwani's shield, Shreya wondered if she disliked her only because she was a pushover or was it that Rakshit loved her more than he had ever shown for Shreya. She may be only his best friend in name but the man could write essays in praises for this spineless woman.
"He said she wants to apologize." Anirudh gritted, his jaw clenched at the accusatory glares thrown his way. "And she will be able to do just that. I have made sure she was well aware of the consequences she has after her last stunt."
"Not enough." Rakshit declared.
"Rakshit." Dhwani chided him.
"What? I could kill that woman for touching you." He shrugged making Anirudh scowl.
"I don't know why we are discussing this." Dhwani shook her head watching the two brothers glaring at each other with Vidyut looking at them as if he was done handling two grown-ups. "Let her come and do what she is here for. I am not letting her insult me again."
"She will never insult you again or even think about it." Anirudh stated, "I won't let her live with it."
Dhwani sighed "Fine. Let her..." her eyes stopped at Shreya who stood behind them and a smile played on her lips "Shreya."
Shreya felt them all turning towards her and blushed being caught eavesdropping. "Hii. I didn't mean to hear you all."
"Nonsense." Uttara waved the words away and pulled her in the circle. "You are family and you look so beautiful. Right, Rakshit?"
"Of course." The bite in his tone was loud and clear.
"Yes, you are glowing like a bride. Go and enjoy your day with her." Dhwani complimented her and turned towards Rakshit with a blink, nudging him to stand beside her much to Anirudh's relief that was clear as daylight.
Rakshit followed her words like an obedient child.
"You are not talking to Ms. Bajaj." Rakshit spat the name like a sour fruit.
"We will see. Leave me to worry about that woman..." Dhwani trailed and glanced at Anirudh who opened his mouth to speak when she added with a grin. "...or should I say your brother's best friend."
Anirudh's scowl turned into a glare and she giggled at his expense. His eyes were of the same color as Rakshit's but a calmer version of the stormy greys.
"Trying to find a scoop here, Ms. Thapar?"
The whisper near her ears made her snap towards him again. The worried face now had turned to stoic and laced with a sudden urge to eat her alive.
"You were the one who made me the PR head here. I am only keeping my eyes and ears open." She rolled her eyes but soon stiffened as his arm snaked around her waist.
"Not that it will stop you from using your contacts. You dislike Bhabhi and will take seconds to sell a piece of news against her." He was accusing her with an unfiltered rage that would stop at nothing.
"Are you insane?" She watched him skeptically but decided to rile him up, at least that would mean "I am no idiot to burn my own bridges and even if I dislike her, she has done nothing to me for acting against her."
"But you don't like her." He stressed making her shake her head in disbelief.
She looked at him with a derisive smile, stepping near and gritted, only for his ears. "Not more than you."
"I wish I could trust your words."
"Now, can we have the couple for the evening on stage?" The speakers blared and his hold turned bruising.
"Shall we?" He gritted with a clenched jaw.
"I wish I never met you." She spat before averting her eyes away from him and towards the stage where their families waited.
"Again, only if you ever meant your words." He mocked leading her towards the center, hands intertwined and displaying the fake love the world has come to believe.
Childhood best friends falling in love.
Sounds like a trope for a much-appreciated book.
The lights dimmed and the spotlight shined on them. Bringing them to focus as the constant clicks resonated with the place. The family gathered around them. Her mother gushed on them and his family stood with proud smiles.
The family priest came and performed the pooja before they could exchange rings. She glanced at him who let the world believe the image he had been creating for them.
A man in love getting married to the love of his life.
She could feel each second crawling like a blood-sucking insect, bringing chills of fear down her spine and her fingers going cold in his hold for the second time in the night.
"Please bring the rings," Priest announced and Uttara brought a decorated basket with gold engravings carrying a beautiful solitaire ring, glimmering under the spotlight.
Her mother brought his ring in a similar basket with a platinum band with a small flower engraved in the middle. The priest placed the two rings and purified them throwing rice grains, Kumkum, and flower petals before stepping back.
"You can exchange the rings now." He said and the families turned towards them with happy smiles.
He received the ring from Uttara with a grin yet his eyes displayed ambers of rage she had ignited in them. He held her left hand, separating her ring finger and angling the ring.
"Do you?" she questioned and he looked up, cocking a brow. "Do you mean everything you say?"
"Yes." He murmured glancing at the ring. "To you, I have meant each word I say."
He slid the ring on her finger and raised it to his lips, placing a small kiss as the audience hooted.
"Rakshit." Her breath hitched.
"Do you hate me?" He whispered a question she could never answer.
She swallowed and took his ring, rolling the medium-sized band between her fingers. "I..."
"Shush." His eyes held hers. "I need nothing but truth from you. Do you hate me?"
Love and hate were always the two ends of the spectrum. Two poles of the magnet which would repulse the similar one but latch onto the other one. They were each other's counterparts. They were opposite not because the world had termed them one to be but because they had been unbreakable once, so direly connected that when the forces pushed them apart and the dust settled, they had turned into enemies.
Love had once embraced all good parts of hate and hate had cherished all bad parts of love. Knowing, living, and dying.
Like two people who had been closer, so much closer that they had grown to hate the love they had. The pull and push of love and hate are the bindings of love.
How could you not love the person you claim to hate?
Didn't the fine line between them meant to be crossed?
She slid the ring on his finger without looking up and shook her head slightly, Meeting his eyes she conveyed her answer.
She cannot hate him.
Not when she was trying to forget him after all these years of hurt, pain, regret, and loneliness.
She had let her vulnerability open the door for revulsion and let hurt turn its back on the passion she felt with him. She had come to loathe the amount of walls she had let him crumble around her and have a look at the girl who was left behind.
The girl who once was devastatingly in love with the boy who crushed her wings, who made her fence go up overnight.
She could never hate him, not when she was in love with him.