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“It makes a difference to how I see myself, Bhai Sa. And how others see me. Do you know how people used to look at me when I was fifteen kilos heavier? They treated me as if I was less of a person just because I didn’t fit into their idea of an attractive size. And now, I’m suddenly more acceptable to people,” she said bitterly.
I could understand her anger. I had grown up hearing the comments and taunts she had to face from people who weren’t even good enough to look at her, forget speaking to her rudely.
“Look, it’s your body. If you want to get fitter and healthier, work out and watch your diet by all means. But please don’t drive yourself nuts to please people who are just looking for a reason to put you down.”
Speaking of said people, I wondered why our grandmother wasn’t present at the breakfast table.
Her mornings were incomplete without trying to ruin Isha’s and my mother’s days. Ma Sa had stopped coming down for breakfast since my father died just so she could avoid some of the conflict with my nasty grandmother.
“Where’s Dadi Sa this morning?” I asked.
Isha shuddered as she took a sip of her green tea.
“She’s plotting, Bhai Sa,” she predicted gloomily.
“Plotting what? My downfall?” I enquired drily.
“She gave up on that long ago. Now it’s my turn. She wants to find me a groom, especially now that Diya’s family is trying to fix her up with Ayush Goel. According to Dadi Sa, we can aim even higher. The last I heard, she was trying to gauge if any of the Ambani relationships were on the rocks because she wanted nothing less than an Ambani boy. You need to reign her in before she starts a feud with the richest family in the country, Bhai Sa.”
I slammed my cup on the table and ignored Isha’s wince.
“Diya’s family can’t be serious about getting her married to Ayush Goel. He’s a creep, Isha. I wouldn’t allow you to be in the same room as him,” I snarled.
“Stay out of it, Bhai Sa. Diya doesn’t need your advice. She has judged Ayush already and found him lacking.”
I relaxed my hold on the cup and exhaled sharply.
“So it’s over?”
“Well, not exactly. You know how persistent her mother can be. She’s agreed to meet Ayush one last time for her mother’s sake before she says no.”
“Where is she meeting him?”
“I’m not telling you that,” snapped Isha. “Stay out of it, Bhai Sa, because if you poke your big nose into the matter, you will drive Diya into his arms and you’ll lose her forever. Is that what you want?”
“This isn’t about me,” I said gruffly. “Diya and I can never be together. But I don’t think Ayush can make her happy, either.”
“Don’t even,” said Isha, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even try to tell me that you don’t want her back. That you don’t regret your decision every single day.”
“I do. I regret it every minute of every day and have done so for the past nine years. But Diya can never be mine, Isha. You know that,” I said bleakly.
She shook her head slowly.
“I don’t know that at all, Bhai Sa. And neither do you.”
I threw my napkin down and pushed my chair away from the table with an angry screech.
“I don’t want to talk about this again,” I snapped, as I walked away from the breakfast table.
“Coward,” called my sister, and I chose to ignore her.
I buried myself in work and tried not to think about how Diya had looked last night in her red saree. She was the picture of elegance in her chiffon and pearls, and I had longed to muss up that perfection.
Her long, curly hair called to me like a siren. I wanted to dig my hands into it to see if it was still as soft as I remembered it to be. I frowned as I realised that she looked thinner than before. She had always been lean, but now she looked even more waif-like. I knew supermodels were expected to be skinny, but I wondered if she ate properly.
I had no idea how or when she became an international supermodel because Veer had distanced himself from me after I announced my engagement to Raksha. That was natural, I supposed, but I couldn’t help missing the man who was more a brother to me than a friend. In one shot, I had alienated both Diya and Veer, the best friends I’d ever had. Isha was still close to Diya, but we never spoke about her. I knew I’d lose my sister forever if I so much as mentioned her best friend after what I did to her.
It had come as quite a surprise to see her face staring at me from the cover of Vogue at a newsstand. It was her face, and yet, it wasn’t. She looked the same, but her gorgeous, almond-shaped brown eyes were different. They were cold and angry as they stared back at me from the cover.
