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“You better do something about it,” said Nandini Aunty.
“Mind your own business. All of you,” I warned, before I turned on my heel and walked out angrily.
Isha was fawning over Ranvijay in the family room when I walked in.
It rankled to know that I didn’t merit so much as a smile, while that greedy bastard was being plied with moong dal pakoras and hot chai. I grabbed a pakora from the tray and Isha glared at me in response. It wasn’t as if he’d starve to death just because I took one piece. The favouritism on display here was ridiculous. I took another pakora just to spite her and was rewarded with another, hotter glare.
Diya, who was resting in a chair on the other side of the room, beckoned Ranvijay over for a chat, and I took advantage of his absence to grab Isha by the arm and pull her down next to me.
“Did you speak to Dheer about what happened last night? He needs to know, Isha,” I said firmly.
“I know that, but this isn’t the right time, Veer. He already has enough on his plate, what with your problem, and my problem, and Diya’s swelling ankles. The poor guy doesn’t need any more stress. Let’s settle the issues at hand first before we bring up the Goels again because trust me, if my brother finds out that they shot at us, he will declare war on them. And war with the Goels is the last thing he needs right now.”
“What are you guys whispering about? Are you fighting again?” asked Diya suspiciously.
“Do they do that often?” asked Ranvijay.
“They squabble like an old married couple,” replied Diya with a laugh.
“We’re not fighting. We’re talking. Someone has to entertain our guest since you’re too busy playing Maharani on that throne,” said Isha severely.
“Hey, I’m allowed to put my feet up. I’m pregnant,” argued Diya.
“Nice excuse,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Now get your butt out of that chair and ask your husband to carry you upstairs. You need to lie down for a bit before dinner.”
“I could do it,” offered Ranvijay.
“Not if you value your arms. Dheer will chop them off if you so much as touch his wife,” retorted Isha.
“That’s true,” said Diya, pulling herself out of the chair. “He’s getting more possessive by the day. You’d think I was the first woman in the world to ever get pregnant.”
I watched her waddle out of the room and then turned to Isha.
“Is she supposed to be so breathless at this stage?”
“No. She’s only six months pregnant. That’s what’s worrying me. She has a check-up next week. Let’s see what the doctor says,” she replied worriedly.
Nandini Aunty floated into the room, waving her phone in triumph.
“I got you that appointment, Ranveer. Raman Chandel is coming here for dinner tomorrow night. That’s your only chance to impress him. Do your best,” she said.
CHAPTER 11
ISHA
Ranvijay promised to go over Dadi Sa’s will that night, and I went off to bed feeling hopeful for the first time in two days.
The next morning, Diya was the only one in the dining room when I dragged myself down for breakfast after a restless night. My dreams had been a weird psychedelic mix of danger and desire. Veiled men were chasing me across the desert and somehow, I ended up in Veer’s arms. But I woke up with a start just as he was making love to me, unfulfilled and frustrated.
Diya looked like a wreck this morning and I eyed her worriedly over the rim of my coffee mug.
“Aren’t you supposed to be glowing right now?” I asked.
“I’m not a light bulb,” she grumbled as she inhaled a stack of omelettes. “And I’m far too busy growing a footballer inside me to glow.”
“Could be a ballet dancer,” I commented.
I knew Bhai Sa was desperately praying for a girl who looked just like her mother.
