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“I don’t care, Ish. The baby can be whatever it likes. Right now, I just want it to stop kicking my bladder. If this continues, I’ll have to move my bed into the bathroom,” she said wearily. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages.”
“You should go back to bed after breakfast, Dee,” I suggested.
“No! I need some fresh air. And I need maternity clothes,” she exclaimed. “Let’s go shopping!”
I perked up at the idea because I was always up for shopping. Ever since I’d developed my eating disorder, retail therapy had replaced food as my first love.
But I insisted on taking Bhai Sa’s armoured car because I was still feeling jumpy about the Goels, and I didn’t want to take any risks with Diya’s safety. She was normally very sharp and would have asked why we were taking that car, but today she was too tired to even notice. I could have taken her shopping in a bullock cart for all that she noticed.
“Where are we going?” I asked happily as we drove off. “There’s a bespoke boutique near the Town Hall that sources designer maternity clothes from European luxury brands. Do you want to try that store first?”
She shook her head.
“No. I’ll have to wear European clothes when I get back on the runway anyway. I only want to wear desi clothes in my pregnancy, for some reason. I think the chiffons and muslins will be far more comfortable in this weather.”
“Do you want to go to the kothi? You can design your own maternity clothes,” I suggested.
Diya had recently set up a full design unit in an old kothi in the village bazaar with artisans specialising in bandhej, leheriya and various kinds of embroidery indigenous to our area.
“Ooh! That’s a lovely idea. Maybe I can start a maternity line as well,” she mused.
“Weren’t you offered a maternity photoshoot for Vogue?”
“Yes, they are doing a spread on celeb yummy mummies-to-be, and I’m part of the feature.”
“Wear your own designs for the shoot and watch the orders roll in,” I said with a grin.
She was like a child in a candy store at the sight of the bright summery colours in the kothi. Her artisans had just dyed a fresh batch of fabric, and she spent the next couple of hours designing a full line of maternity dresses and jumpsuits in gorgeous colours.
I sighed over the design for a royal blue jumpsuit in georgette with white and pink leheriya patterns.
“I’ll ask them to make one for you, as well,” declared Diya, proving once and for all that she was my soulmate in every way.
When I felt she was looking tired, I pried her from the kothi against her wishes and took her out for ice cream before we went home. We headed back to the car with pistachio gelato dripping from our waffle cones, only to find our way blocked by a woman I didn’t recognise.
She stared at Diya with palpable hatred and I placed myself in front of my bestie blocking her from the woman’s view.
“Can I help you?” I asked pleasantly.
“Soon you’re going to wish someone would help you, bitch,” she hissed.
Umm… rude!
“Look, lady. We don’t even know you. So please get out of our way,” I replied.
I didn’t want to be rude because she looked unhinged. And I didn’t want her to hurt Diya. Who clearly had different ideas.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded from behind me.
“Your worst nightmare,” drawled the crazy person blocking our way.
Only, now I noticed that she wasn’t alone. One by one, six thugs came up to flank her. My mouth went dry as I realised that we were outnumbered. All we had was our chauffeur. We didn’t go around with a security team in our hometown because those days were supposed to be behind us. Ever since Bhai Sa signed a truce with the mafia, we could move around freely without a threat to our lives.
Funny how quickly that changed.
Now the woman didn’t look crazy. She looked menacing.
“Do you have a name, Miss Nightmare?” enquired Diya sarcastically.
