🎈👠 chapter six . . .
this was the calm before the storm . . .
ayan knew all too well that things weren't gonna go great for simone and rishabh now that simran had set her mind to it.
honestly, he didn't want to be at the brunt of her anger either. he'd like to save his skin, which was part of the reason why he was going along with everything that simran planned. now that he had a lot of time during the flight to think about it, he felt he was semi-okay with whatever simran cooked up as long as he wasn't involved.
to be honest, what simone did was wrong. one, she'd broken the sacred girl-code and gotten together with her best friend's long time ex-boyfriend. two, she was going behind simran's back and broke contact with her as her relationship with rishabh got stronger. three, she decided to be petty and sent simran an invitation to her wedding through the mail.
maybe (just maybe), ayan felt that simran wouldn't have been this mad about it if simone hadn't cut her off just to be with rishabh. maybe. he wouldn't really count on that. ayan wasn't gonna jump into any conclusions based on the three-ish days that he'd known her.
back to the point that he had some time to think during his flight to here, that turbulence that they'd faced had rattled ayan. he decided that he'd call his maa as soon as they got to the hotel and talk to her—and maybe even ask her about how mrs verma's kitty party went. it was the small things that made you think. he'd left in a hurry, frustrated as well, and hadn't talked to his maa well.
other than that, as much as he hated admitting it, ayan had an aversion to heights. he was a very weary flyer.
"everything's fine, maa. it was just a small turbulence." ayan assured his mother.
her voice was touched with concern, and she asked him if he'd eaten.
"we already had dinner. the room service was here." he answered, pacing the room idly as he talked.
"aacha, take care of yourself, ayan beta." his mother offered with a sigh.
"take care, maa. goodnight." he smiled. granted that one of his many reasons to agree to come to this wedding with simran was to take a breather from his mother's constant nagging for a while, but talking to her did make him feel better than he expected.
"goodnight." his mother replied, and he could almost feel the smile in her voice.
another thing that ayan hated admitting about himself was that he was a generally homesick person, and he rarely stayed away from the comfort of his house. but he really did need a break, and now he was here. and maybe he was a tiny bit of a mommy's boy. just a bit, okay? don't hold that against him.
as ayan cut the call, simran came out of the bathroom in her sleep shorts and a bright pink t-shirt. she'd taken her sweet time with her night-time skincare routine—not that he was complaining.
"i'm so ready for bed." simran said, lying down on the mattress.
she definitely was, but he wasn't. she got the mattress and he'd gotten the couch. didn't really seem fair when he was the one who'd dragged her into a wedding he had no plans of attending, right?
ayan kept his phone down, settling down on the couch. he'd already taken one of the pillows and a comforter. if he had to sleep on the couch, he might as well make it a makeshift bed at least.
ayan had half a mind to open his laptop and check if he had any emails when simran turned to him.
"ayan, do you have a lighter?" she asked.
"oh, erm . . ." why the hell did she need a lighter now? "i don't smoke." he flinched.
simran made a face at that, "too bad."
too bad? what the hell did she mean by that?
"don't worry, i'll find one." simran continued, settling herself comfortably on the mattress.
". . . okay?" ayan frowned.
ayan liked to believe that he could easily get a read on most people, but that was before he ran into simran a few weeks back. simran sangha was an enigma he could never begin to understand—not that he was trying to, anyway. he couldn't begin puzzling her out even if he wanted to, for that matter. simran's brain worked in a different way.
simran reached forward to switch off the lights.
ayan wondered if he should tell her goodnight. would that be too awkward? he decided to let it be.
a few minutes had passed, and they laid in silence. ayan was just drifting off to sleep, when simran said his name.
"ayan?"
"yeah?" he rubbed at his eyes.
"nothing. sleep well." she answered.
huh? that was oddly kind for simran sangha.
"you too." he offered.
and then they drifted back to silence.
🎈👠
as much as the thought made her jealous, simran hoped that simone was wearing something designer for this dinner that her father was hosting for his colleagues.
and as much as the thought of seeing rishabh in a suit made her want to bang her head against the nearest wall, she hoped he was wearing his most expensive suit. preferably, black. it always looked good on him.
well, the more good it looked, the better it would feel. oh, what fun she'll have to ruin whatever they were wearing!
she'd spent the next day lounging around in their room, counting down the hours until the dinner party the d'souza's would be hosting. lazing around a few hours wouldn't be hard. ayan was on his laptop for most part of the afternoon, his headphones on. simran found herself admiring ayan's jawline for a moment—the precise cut of it, and how the stubble made him look better. simran quickly shook off that thought. ugh, unwanted distractions. she had time for that later.
simran spent the next half an hour until lunch browsing through fashion newsletters. she noticed how ayan looked really nervous throughout lunch, and much more afterwards. his worry was . . . understandable, but at the same time it wasn't. he was on her corner. literally, what could go wrong? she had today's event planned to the z. her plan—well, wouldn't you like to know that?
after lunch, ayan had drifted off to sleep.
simran used this time to slip out and get a lighter. she didn't ask the front desk because she wasn't sure if this place was a non-smoking hotel. but smoking was the last thing on her mind as she pulled on her hoodie and sunglasses and stepped out. a pretty good cover, right? she encountered some of simone's distant relatives on the elevator ride down to the lobby, but none who recognized her. she was almost at the foyer when she heard a voice that she knew all too well.
rishabh mehta. she'd know that voice anywhere.
simran quickly slipped to the side, her back turned to him as she pretended to examine a potted plant towards the side of the foyer.
"lily, i don't give a fuck about how much it costs. i need it by tomorrow morning or you can kiss this job goodbye—" rishabh mehta was talking to someone on the phone as he passed, completely unaware of simran's presence in the foyer.
phew.
simran craned her neck to the side, hoping against hope that she'd get to see a glimpse of rishabh.
there he was—rishabh fucking mehta (other prominent aliases: cheater, a gifted faker, and a fucking scumbag), walking down the stairs that led outside the foyer, in a flowy blue shirt. he had his phone pressed to his ear, waiting for one of the employees to bring his car around. he hadn't changed much in those years after college, except for growing out a stubble and getting a few more tattoos. she thought he might look happier, even. that got on her nerves. but one thing about him hadn't changed at all—he looked like every bit like the spoiled brat/asshole that she used to know, maybe even more now.
just the sight of him brought back flashes of their time together when they were younger . . . and it also fueled her need to take her sweet time in ruining his fucking wedding. she was hurt, she realized. she never truly came to terms with their breakup, from how things had gone down between them. she used to be so in love with him, but now she wasn't even sure if he ever loved her the way she loved him.
rishabh put his phone back in his pocket, and opened the door to his car, blissfully unaware that simran was even here. he seemed . . . happier than he ever was with her.
it was just a glimpse. it didn't have to mean anything as long as she didn't let it.
simran didn't let that thought register. she blocked out all other thoughts and focused on one: her top priority right now was sabotaging the dinner party, and that's what she was gonna do instead of thinking about the past and all her unresolved emotions.
getting even was better than getting emotional.
simran sangha had little regard for such emotions anyway.
let the games begin.
🎈👠
eight pm. the dinner would be starting around now. knowing simone's father, he'd be strict with the timing.
ayan wasn't aware of simran's little escapade to get a lighter and her run in with rishabh. she wasn't going to tell him either. it wasn't vital. that's what she kept telling herself.
she'd gone to get dressed when it was fifteen minutes to eight. the wait felt like forever.
"ayan, let's go." simran came out of the bathroom, dressed in her over-sized black hoodie and white leggings, grabbing her black shades and lighter from the nightstand as she headed towards the door.
ayan looked up from his laptop, surprised. "what?"
was he serious right now?
"8 pm? the dinner party?" simran raised a brow, impatient. she had to be there before simone and rishabh came in.
ayan looked at her in disbelief, "simran—"
"oh, come on, ayan! you knew what you were signing up! now get your ass here!" simran frowned, losing her calm.
"jeez, simran—okay. okay." ayan frowned too, closing his laptop as he got up to his feet.
he switched off the lights as he followed her outside, struggling to keep up with her long strides.
"can you at least tell me what we're gonna do?" ayan asked her, finally catching up with her.
"hit 'em where it fucking hurts." simran replied. mr d'souza was gonna introduce his future son-in-law to his colleagues. what better move than aim a fucking blow at male ego?
simran didn't know why she was feeling this agitated, and she could pretend like seeing rishabh again had nothing to do with it. how could he be happy with her? simran had given her best to both of them, and this sure as hell wasn't the way they should be paying her back.
she also didn't know what hurt more: that rishabh was happier with her or that simone, of all people, did this to her.
ayan paused for a moment, before continuing, "yes, i caught that. but how—" he began.
"just—just follow my lead, ayan. i know what to do." she replied.
ayan nodded, looking nervously around him, making sure that nobody saw them.
they took the elevator down, and simran's hands where in her pocket throughout the ride.
the elevator doors opened to reveal the dining hall. they were just seconds early, because she saw simone's father and his colleagues walking in through the main doors of the dining hall. simone and rishabh must be coming later, then. just like she wanted.
"let's go."
simran took ayan's arm and led him across the hall, to the far end of the dining hall.
ayan followed her, looking really surprised when he held his arm.
let them get here. they'd never know what hit them.
a/n: i wanted to include the part where simone & rishabh got there in this chap itself but i've already crossed 2k words and it was getting too long so i had to split it in half. see u in the next chap 👋🏼