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Harsh snorted from behind him, suppressed laughter accompanying it and telling him both siblings had heard that comment. He ignored them, his eyes still fixed on the door. How much longer before she arrived? Why was she late? He glanced at his watch again. Only fifteen minutes late, but it still felt like an interminable amount of time.
A commotion outside the door told him his wait was probably over. He rose from that godawful chair and stood, his father and mother flanking him and his siblings and Aarush standing a step behind them.
The doors opened and Veda stepped in with her family in tow. Cameras exploded all around them as the media chosen to be present for the event went berserk. The guards herded them back once they had their fill and then, finally, he got a good look at her.
She wore a summery yellow, silk saree, that made her look like a ray of sunshine. He felt his chest expand as he took his first clear breath of the day. Her glorious hair had been tamed into a low bun but thankfully was bereft of the entire flower garden that he often saw women wear on days like this. Her gold jhumkas caught the light, reflecting it and making him blink.
“Stop drooling,” Priyanka hissed.
Agastya shut his mouth, which he hadn’t realised had fallen open, and adjusted the angavasthram his mother had draped over one shoulder.
“And your dhoti is falling off,” Harsh murmured.
Agastya’s hand instinctively went to his waist and he looked down to see what the problem was.
“Made you look,” Harsh laughed.
Agastya threw him a murderous look when he realised there was nothing wrong with his pancha dhoti.
“Could you behave yourself for one fucking day?”
“Language,” his mother hissed. At the same time, Harsh shrugged, saying, “I’ll try. No promises though.”
“Agastya.” His father’s quietly commanding voice silenced everyone.
Taking a deep breath, Agastya started to move towards Veda and her family.
“No.”
He stopped at his father’s single word.
“Let them come to us,” Nanna said.
“Seriously?” Harsh muttered, making a disgusted sound. “Everything is a fucking power play for you guys. I will never understand it.”
“That is why you will never have power also,” Nanna returned, not bothering to look at his younger son even as he decimated him with his words.
Before Agastya could intervene, Veda’s family started walking towards them, flanked by their relatives and close friends.
“What is she wearing?” Agastya’s mother sniffed disapprovingly.
“A saree, Amma,” Priyanka answered, an edge to her voice. “Even you can’t fault that.”
“It’s tied so low,” Amma muttered. “Below her navel. Disgraceful.”
Apparently Amma could fault it.
“And why are her sleeves so short? It’s almost sleeveless.”
“They are called cap sleeves. It’s fashion.”
“Fashion?” Amma looked ready to start breathing fire. Clearly, fashion was one of her trigger words.
“She looks beautiful,” Agastya interrupted, his tone steel wrapped in frost. Veda’s family came to a halt on the heels of the last word. He’d clearly been audible to them as Veda turned a rosy red under everyone’s gaze.
“You look beautiful,” he repeated, looking directly at her, daring anyone to say anything to the contrary. No one did.
“Welcome,” his father said expansively into the silence that fell. “Please let’s all sit down before we begin.”
