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WasAnkitaright?
WithJess,Krishhad a good thing going, and then along cameHurricaneFrancesca, wiping out everything in her wake.Justlike her family always said.Perhapsshe wasn’t meant to be the heroine in thisBollywoodfilm, but the villain.
Fiveyears ago, she had brokenKrish’sheart.Hersdidn’t come out unscathed either, but she still remembered the look on his face when she said she was dating someone else.
Pain.Likeshe had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart to a pulp.
Beingso close to him these past few weeks, she’d become disoriented and lost sight of the reason she’d walked away from him in the first place: she could not give him what he wanted.
Shewas broken.Andhe had no idea.
Hewas falling in love with an illusion.
Pressingthe button on her mic, she said, ‘Wally, can you cover the bride and groom for a minute?Over.’
‘Righty-ho.Over.”
Hiddenbehind the speakers, she dropped her head into her hands.Herdetermination to tellKrisheverything wavered and fear gripped her.Herworst qualities spooled through her mind on a familiar loop:you’re sick, you’re a drain, you’re antisocial, nobody likes you, you don’t deserve to be happy.
Shehit her palm against her forehead.Shutthe fuck up, she told that voice.Afterher chat with the rat, she had realised that the negative voice wasn’t really hers.Itwas the voice of the saboteur who lived inside her.She’deven given it a name:Cynthia, after the receptionist at herGP’soffice who always looked atFrancescafunny when she came into the surgery.Cynthiawas a bitch.
Unfortunately,AnkitaandCynthiaseemed to be on the same page.Francescawiped the tears off her face.
Shehad to get a fucking grip.Thetired old record in her head was wearing thin.Cynthianeeded to go on a permanent holiday.Closingher eyes, she tried to regain some of the self-love that she’d felt so strongly during the ceremony, when she’d opened herself up toKrish’sgaze and showed him her very soul.
‘Goldie!Whatare you doing back here?’Jaiveerwas walking past, pulling one of the other male dancers behind him.Theywere both still sweaty after the big number.Francescasuspected they were on their way to get even more sweaty.
Hemurmured something to his friend, who sashayed back to the dance floor.Jaiveergrabbed her hand and pulled her outside the marquee into the cool night air.Hepeeled his jacket off and fanned himself.Themale dancers had all worn fitted suits, like in the famous reunion scene inYehJawaaniHaiDeewani, exceptJaiveer’ssuit was bright pink and sequinned.
‘Greatjob on the dance,’ she said, even though she couldn’t remember it.
‘Thanks.Gladit’s over,’ he confided. ‘Now, tell me why you were hiding behind a speaker crying?’
Shegroaned. ‘Hissister is here.Shesaid all kinds of awful things to me and…well…nowI’mscared to tell him…you know.’
Hetook her by the shoulders. ‘Wetalked about this.Thecage…’
‘Thefucking cage.Blahblah blah.’
Hetilted his head to the side, like a know-it-all. ‘Youneed to tell him.’
‘Iknow that!I’mjust not surehow.’
‘You’llfigure something out.’Hepicked a piece of thread off her shirt and pulled her in for a hug.
Shelet her head sink onto his chest.Thankfully, his shirt had dried. ‘Iwas so naive to think we could just pick up where we left off.Whatif his family can’t forgive me…?’
Strokingthe back of her head,Jaiveersaid, ‘Youaren’t dating his family.Andyou won’t be picking up where you left off.You’llbe starting over again.Withno secretsbetween you.’
Francescawas about to respond whenKrish’svoice crackled over the headphones. ‘Um,Francesca?Wecan all hear you.’Abeat. ‘Over.’
Withwide, terrified eyes, she stepped out ofJaiveer’sarms and tented her hands over her mouth. ‘Ohmy god.’
Shehad the faulty headset.
Bollocks.
Clickingthe button again, she tore the mic from her collar, just to make sure it was off.
