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Diya smiled proudly at the dining table when everyone, including the Rani Ma of Mirpur, praised her kheer. I gave her a quick wink when she met my eyes and she flashed me a wide, wicked grin that made me want to grab her and take her upstairs right then.
Nandini Devi’s phone pinged just then and she gasped when she read the text she’d received.
“I can’t believe this! Apparently cops turned up at Goel House just now with a search warrant. And they found a dead body! They’ve taken Ayush into custody.”
Commissioner Dhaliwal was a man of his word, I thought with relief.
My phone rang just then, and my eyes widened when I saw who it was. I declined the call and decided to call back later. When I looked up, Diya was staring at me thoughtfully, and I wasn’t sure if I liked the look on her face.
CHAPTER 21
DIYA
Idon’t know why I felt so uneasy when Dheer got a call in the middle of our big, family lunch. He declined it, but something about his expression made me uneasy. I wondered who it was.
I shook the thought away because when did I turn into a suspicious wife? Was I going to start checking his phone next? I’d rather die than stoop to such things, I thought with a shudder. If I was reduced to snooping on my husband because I couldn’t trust him, there was no point in staying married.
My parents and Veer left soon after lunch, and I wished I could jump into the car and leave with them. For the first time, I felt like I wasn’t part of that family anymore, and it was heartbreaking. Isha hugged me tightly and led me to her room for a chat.
As we munched on bhujiya and chips, we talked about the proceedings against Ayush because we both did not want to address the elephant in the room - my marriage. Just then, my phone rang.
“It’s Caroline, my booker at the modelling agency,” I muttered, swiping to accept the call.
“Hey gorgeous! Congratulations on the wedding!” she squealed.
“Thank you, Caroline.”
“I think your new husband is your lucky charm,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Darling, Valentino wants you to be the face of their Spring Collection,” she exclaimed.
I was speechless because this was huge! This could propel me into a whole different league professionally.
“Are you serious?” I whispered.
“Dead serious,” she replied.
“Get out of here!” I screeched, doing a happy jig around the room.
“They need you to do a go-see with their photographer in Milan in two days. I’m hoping that won’t be a problem,” said Caroline, sounding more serious now.
It was as if she had poured a bucket of icy water over my excitement.
“I beg your pardon? In two days?”
“Yes. And they don’t like to be kept waiting,” she replied sternly.
“Ohmigod, Caroline! I just got married. I still have henna tattoos on my hands!”
“It’s just a meeting, not a shoot. They need to make sure you’re the right fit for their collection, Diya. So the henna doesn’t matter, but you have to be there in two days. They are also considering a seventeen-year-old Somali model, and all said and done, while she might be too young to be the face of their collection, you are thirty years old. They will not sign you until you’ve done a go-see.”
There it was. The reminder that I was getting older in an unforgiving industry that worshipped youth. I worked very hard to stay fit and look good, but age was going to catch up with me, and there would always be someone younger and fresher vying for the same job.
“I understand, Caroline. But you don’t understand my situation. I’m married to a Maharaja. I can’t just up and leave two days after the wedding. I have social obligations that I cannot ignore.”
“I get all that, and I feel you, honey. But there’s nothing we can do.”
