Page 59 of The Promise of a Traitor

She walked over to help Advik pull on his suit jacket and button his waistcoat. “Looking good, Malhotra,” she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror in front of them. “And look at that, we can actually see your face!”

“Thanks Maasi.”

She leaned in close and whispered extra loudly, “Glad you got rid of the hair you’ve been hiding behind. Nice to see your face again, makeup and all. At this rate, by the time you get married, we might even discover your personality.”

The room erupted in loud laughter even as Advik shook his head and accepted the good-natured ribbing. He’d take it all, if it meant ending the evening with Aastha in his arms.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Aastha

Amyra fixed a bunch of jasmine flowers in the loose fish braid they’d put Aastha’s hair in. Aastha had ignored all her mother’s suggestion and chosen instead to wear her grandmother’s pale peach, tissue saree. Large gold jhumkas, gold bangles and the jasmine flowers were all she had acquiesced to.

“You can’t leave your neck bare,” her mother grumbled from behind her.

“You’re wearing enough for the two of us,” Aastha returned, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before standing and turning. She took in Amyra in her sky blue ghaghra choli and smiled. She added a tiny dot of her kaajal behind Amyra’s ear for nazar and kissed her forehead.

“You look beautiful,” Aastha said, smiling at Amyra and ignoring her mother who was admiring herself in the mirror.

Her father appeared in the doorway in a pristine cream kurta and pyjama. “Ready?” he asked, his gaze trained on Binita.

“Yes,” Binita said, checking if her bindi was straight before turning from the mirror and giving them all an aggressively glittering smile. “Let’s go.”

Aastha and Amyra walked out together, passing their father and leaving him to bring up the rear with her mother. It was as they were reaching the car that her father caught her arm, the tips of his fingers touching her, like even now he couldn’t bear more than the bare minimum contact with her.

“I’m glad you’re making it right,” he said. “You’re finally fixing it.”

“It shouldn’t be on her,” Amyra flared up, from beside Aastha, glaring at their father.

“Of course it should be,” he replied, his stony gaze on Aastha’s tight profile. “This is her mess. She should be the one cleaning it up.”

“It-“ Amyra began but Aastha stopped her with a fierce look.

“Let’s go,” Aastha said, her voice steady. “We don’t want to keep the Malhotras waiting.” She waited for Amyra to get into the car before she said, “I may have been the reason why everything went to shit but you’re the reason I was in that position in the first place.” She met her father’s eyes, her rage and hurt burning in her direct gaze. “I’ll own my mess if you own yours.”

Binita leaned over from the passenger seat and pressed on the horn to get their attention. Aastha slid into the rear seat without another word to her father, allowing Amyra to grab her hand and hold it tightly. They drove to the venue in silence, the five star hotel not more than fifteen minutes away but taking almost forty minutes in the evening rush hour traffic.

Where are you?

The message from Advik made her smile as she replied to it.

On my way.

“Impatient, isn’t he?” Amyra said from beside her, reading the message thread on her display.

Impatient or worried she wouldn’t turn up? Aastha knew she’d left deep wounds in the bedrock of their relationship. She only hoped she could heal them with time.

“Amu,” she said, turning to her sister. She wanted to talk to her about Advik’s idea of Amyra living with them after they got married. It was the single, greatest gift anyone had given her in her entire life but she didn’t know how this would play out.

Amyra turned to her with a questioning look but before she could say anything more, they were pulling up into the foyer of the hotel and the valet and the other staff were rushing over to greet the car.

She got down, her gaze snagging on where Advik was standing at the entrance. The years fell away as she met his gaze, the anger, the hurt, the regrets all disappearing as she looked at the man she loved, waiting for her. Only for her.

The air around her stilled as she took him in, the tall, lean frame in that fitted suit, the lean, elegant lines of his face visible now without the thick, bushy beard. He looked incredible but most importantly, he looked like hers.

He walked over to where they stood, greeting her parents and Amyra. She barely heard the pleasantries he murmured as his parents came over and the two families fell into step, walking towards the ballroom they had booked for the engagement.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice pitched low enough to reach only her ears, his intense gaze raking over her and making a shiver run through her.