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Agastya didn’t miss the implication that his father wasn’t. Was he any different though? Agastya had tiptoed over that line by proposing marriage to Veda, hadn’t he? Marry Veda and muzzle the most powerful voice in the state. Marry Veda and silence the press. For which father would run a story impacting his daughter’s husband and in laws? And City News was the largest player in the media market. Where they led, the others followed.
But he’d only dipped a toe over the damn line. He’d been so sure that he’d find proof of their innocence within days. And once he did, the marriage stopped being an implied threat. There was no need for him to threaten if his father wasn’t threatened. The marriage would be legit. The marriage would actually be a marriage, one he’d suddenly started to long for with a desperation that took him by surprise.
Or so, he’d thought. His big plan had exploded in his face, the shrapnel digging into every aspect of his life.
The greater good in mind, he’d taken one little detour from his normal path. He’d tugged at a smaller thread in a much larger tapestry. That’s all it had been meant to be. A small deviation from the black and white of his mind into the grey. A deviation he would find his way back from.
But now it was his wedding day. And he had no proof. God was calling his bluff. Was he really going to marry Veda so he could hold her happiness hostage? Was he going to use her as a lifelong pawn in his game to keep her father’s news network silent? Was he going to be the bastard who played the woman who loved him?
“Anna.” Harsh knocked and entered the room, looking dapper in his royal blue kurta pyjama. “Amma is going to have a stroke if you don’t come down now. We have to leave for the venue.”
A beat of silence passed and then Harsh asked, “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Ganesh met Agastya’s eyes in the mirror, neither man responding to Harsh’s question.
“Are you calling off the wedding?” Harsh’s voice rose in agitation. “What the fuck is going on?”
Was he? Agastya looked himself in the eye. What was he going to do? Abandon Veda at the altar, jilting her in front of the media and society’s creamy echelon or marry her and sacrifice her at the altar of his ambitions? Which was the greater good and which was the lesser evil? What was black and what was white? All he saw was an endless sea of grey.
Break her heart or break his moral code? What the fuck was he going to do? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and searched his heart and mind for an answer. All he heard was Veda’s lilting laugh. All he smelt was the fragrance of jasmine, the scent of her that seemed to have seeped into his soul. All he felt was her lips against his and her hands slipping through his hair, her body rubbing against him.
All he knew was her. All he wanted was her. His answer was her. His answer, he was starting to realise, would always be her.
He opened his eyes and stared at himself, a new awareness dawning. Harsh came to stand behind him, one hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing.
“I love you, Anna,” his brother told him, a never seen before maturity in his eyes and voice. “There is no one in this world I respect more than I do you. I don’t believe in God. But I do believe in you. You’ll do the right thing. You always do.”
Agastya brought his hand up to cover the hand Harsh had on his shoulder. “Give me ten minutes,” he told his brother roughly. “I’ll meet you all downstairs.”
Eighteen
VEDA
Her heart fluttered like a butterfly in her chest as she stared at the white sheet in front of her. She could make out Agastya’s dark outline behind it. He sat with an unnatural stillness that worried her, only moving when the priest directed him to do something.
She heard the tempo of the nadaswaram change and Agastya’s hands appeared beneath the cloth, palms turned upward. Her heart picked up its tempo, more dragonfly than butterfly now. Veda’s parents came forward to take her hands and put it in his, officially handing her over. Kanyadanam done, her hand was pulled back and filled with the jeelakarra bellam and her, cupped and filled, palm was placed on top of Agastya’s head. His own came to rest gently on her head.
The nadaswaram picked up, her heart moving into complete dragonfly zone and before she could blink, the sheet dropped. Agastya stared at her, his hand still on her head, a blank, remote look on his face.
Unease swam through her as she stared into the eyes of a stranger. This was not the man who’d held her, who’d kissed her, who’d told her she deserved to be herself. This was Agastya Kodela, heir apparent to the highest political seat in the country.
Her lips tipped up in a tremulous smile as their hands dropped away from each other’s heads. He didn’t return her smile, instead turning his head slightly to listen to something his assistant whispered into his ear.
Feeling strangely bereft, Veda allowed her mother to lead her from the mandap to change her saree. The minute they reached the changing room allotted to the bride, her mother abandoned her to Raashi and her friends and sat down. Veda took the red and white saree handed to her and disappeared into the small, attached toilet.
Breath escaping her in short, panicked pants she stared at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall. What had happened? This wasn’t what she’d been expecting from her wedding day.
“Akka?” Raashi’s voice sounded worried on the other side of the bathroom door. “Do you need some help?”
“No,” Veda croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I just need a moment.”
“Okay.” She could almost hear Raashi’s hesitation to leave her alone. “They’re waiting.”
Veda looked at her pale, anxious face in the mirror and tipped her chin up. Let them wait. She would go out when she was ready. She took her own, sweet time getting ready, using the extra minutes to patch her composure together.
When she eventually left the room, the women pounced, chattering like a horde of magpies.
“Amma, you need to take her back to the mandap,” Raashi said loudly to drag their mother’s attention away from her phone.
