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“Wait,” she called out, running after him.
Agastya stopped walking and she slammed into his back, not having counted on him coming to an abrupt halt like that. Stumbling on her heels, she would have fallen on her butt if he hadn’t caught her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his sharp eyes roving her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I just…” She patted her racing heart, feeling foolish. “I just…”
“You just?” Agastya waited patiently even as his team shifted restlessly around him.
“Take care,” Veda said lamely. “Okay?”
Surprise flitted through his gaze as he stared at her. “Take care?” he echoed. “I’m going to work, Veda, not into battle.”
“With your work isn’t it one and the same?” she asked, trying to make a joke while still feeling strangely unsettled.
“Are you worried about me Veda?” he asked, his voice low and deep.
She nodded, that weird, unnamed fear still plaguing her. “I don’t know what this work crisis is but yeah, I’m worried about you.”
For once, Agastya looked speechless. And then he said simply, “Thank you.”
He leaned down and hugged her, pulling her close. “Thank you,” he said again.
“Sir,” his assistant interrupted, looking embarrassed. “We have to leave.”
Veda pulled back from his arms, feeling bereft. “Go,” she said.
He stepped away, walking backwards, still looking at her. “I’ll see you at the engagement.”
“I should hope so,” she laughed, feeling a little better now. “It is our engagement after all.”
With a small smile for her, he finally turned away and left, the mass of people who stalked his every movement going with him.
“I have hope for him now,” a soft voice said behind her.
Veda turned to see Priyanka standing there.
“You mean hope for us?” Veda asked, walking over to join her friend and soon to be sister-in-law.
“No.” Priyanka shook her head. “I mean him. You, Veda, are the very epitome of hope.”
“What do you mean?” Veda could feel that strangeness creeping through her again.
But Priyanka only looped her arm through Veda’s. “Forget it. You’ll figure it out on your own. Now, let’s go dance.”
Dance. Yes. She should dance. No matter how weird life got, Veda always had dance. And dance always had her back.
Fifteen
AGASTYA
Agastya sat in the large, red, velvet chair his mother had produced from God knows where. A matching, equally hideous chair had been set beside him for Veda.
She hadn’t arrived. Yet.
His gaze stayed trained on the front door, anticipation building within him. The last few days had been a frantic race from solving one crisis to jumping into another. He hadn’t had a moment to breathe much less message or call Veda. But he’d thought of her. Often and far more frequently than he’d expected to.
“You look like a king.” His mother smiled, as she bent her hands around his head and then cracked her knuckles against her temples.
