Chapter 11: 09

{The ones who have read the first book, please warn if you are spoiling something for the people who haven't. Write "Spoiler" in the start and then continue your comment.}

Chapter Nine

""Ji, aur kuch, pati dev?"

✧  P R E E T ✧

"Umm..hey?" I peeped through the door and said to the lady standing in front of me outside. She looked a little old, maybe in her 50s and she was Indian as well. This area where Deven lives is populated by Indians, especially Punjabis and Gujaratis, so it's known as the Indian area.

"Hi. Deven stays here, doesn't he?" she asked me, looking confused, and I nodded my head.

"He does. He's just in the shower right now," I replied. She scanned me from head to toe and then stared at my face awkwardly. I noticed the plate in her hand with another plate on top of it, covering whatever was inside.

"Oh. I made aamras-puri today. I brought some for him as well. He's living here alone and probably misses Indian food, so I thought I'd make extra for him," she said, and a smile appeared on my face. She seemed like a very nice lady and radiated that motherly feeling.

"That's so sweet of you. Please, come inside. Have a seat," I said politely, welcoming her inside. She sat on the couch and her eyes fell on Neava walking out of the kitchen.

It was Sunday today, all three of us had an off, so we—no, Neava decided that we needed to do a photoshoot and at least decorate this house like a married couple's. So there I was, wearing a white flowy sundress with small yellow sunflowers drawn on it. It was spaghetti-strapped and reached below my knees.

I had three or four other outfits packed in my bag as well, so it looks like the pictures are from different days and locations. It'd look weird if all the pictures had us in the same clothes.

Neava brought her camera with her. It was our luck that we had a cinematographer already, so we didn't need to hire anyone for pictures or click them with our phones. Also, she's very good at it; when it comes to her, the ideas, poses, lighting—Neava Madam knows it all.

"I'm Mrs. Leela Patel." Neava's eyes shined when she heard this. She took a complete U-turn and rushed towards the aunty, taking a seat beside her.

"Arey, Aunty, you're Gujarati? Hu pan Gujju chu," she started babbling in Gujarati to her.

[Even I'm a Gujarati.]

I've noticed most Gujaratis connect with each other the moment they get to know the other person is of the same community. It's like a soul connection between them.

And my best friend is a living example of this. I wouldn't be surprised if after a few days she asks the aunty to find a Gujju guy for her. She's capable of everything, especially with her socializing skills. She starts a conversation with anyone who looks at her for more than five minutes.

Once, we went to a brand store in India—I don't remember which one it was as we were just teenagers back then. There was an employee who looked a few years older than us, and he was roaming around, keeping an eye while she was trying on all the shades of lipstick she liked on the back of her hand.

When she was totally done with the employee staring at her and giving her side eye, she started laughing and told him that we were actually going to buy the product and not just messing around. There, the employee started a whole new conversation with her. She almost gained a fan, but then we had to leave.

If only we had stayed a little longer, he'd have asked for her name and stuff. It looked like the start of a cute little love story to me.

"Who are you? Deven's girlfriend?" Aunty asked Neava, and she shook her head vigorously. I had the urge to laugh at her expression until she pointed towards me and my expression turned horrified.

"She's his wife, Preet." She walked towards me and smacked my back, which was supposed to be proud but she hit me a little too hard. What was the need to tell her about this? And what was the need to hit me?

"He's married? I never knew this." Mrs. Patel gasped and looked at me with a questioning gaze, asking me if what she said was the truth. I nodded while fidgeting with the end of my dress.

"Who's married?" A voice came from behind, and I noticed Deven walking while rolling the sleeves of his casual white shirt above his elbows. He had paired it with blue jeans. The shirt fitting him right at every part of his body made me go in awe.

"What a hottie hottie!" Neava whispered in my ear and winked with a teasing smile. I let out an irritated sigh and ignored her sayings.

I think most of the problems I have in my life are created by my best friend.

"Oh, Mrs. Patel, hello." There was a look of amusement in his expression after noticing her.

"Deven, I'm afraid I'm mad at you. You never told me that you're married." She folded her hands below her chest and looked at him with displeasure. He looked at me first, and I signaled towards Neava with my eyes. Shaking his head and shooting her a glare, while she bit her tongue. He licked his lips nervously before replying.

"Uh, it just happened a few days ago. Like literally five days ago, so it slipped from my mind as well." He made up a lie about our wedding which never took place.

"Oh. Anyways, congratulations on your wedding. You got yourself a beautiful wife." She smiled at me and patted my cheek twice lovingly. Automatically, a small smile appeared on my face.

"Indeed." Deven turned his head sideways, looking right into my eyes. His Adam's apple moved visibly as he kept staring at me intensely. Even I got a bit nervous from that gaze and parted my eyes away from him. I could still feel his stare.

"Boy's so in love." Neava sang it like a lyric of a song, with mischief dripping from her voice. The aunty let out a small laugh and nodded at her words.

"It's clearly in his eyes." Deven let out a cough and finally turned his head away from me.

"You didn't invite anyone to the wedding? I guess it was a simple one then. Where did you both marry each other though?" Aunty questioned us while I switched glances with him, wanting him to answer this. Probably thinking the same, he didn't utter a word and there was a wave of silence in the air.

"Temple." "Church." "Court."

Three voices were heard at the same time, and I glanced at Neava, making a face.

Ye kyu boli par?

[Why did she answer?]

All three of us were now glaring at each other. When it was the right time to speak, nobody answered and then all three of us chose to answer differently.

So yeah, we got married in three different locations without actually getting married.

"In five days you married each other three times at three different places? You do love each other a lot," Mrs. Patel asked us, and I shook my head meekly.

Think of an excuse, Preet. Think of an excuse.

"Three different places? Three times? What did you hear?" Okay, so now we are manipulating the old lady to think that she has a hearing problem. Good job, Neava.

"Um, didn't you three say temple, church, and court simultaneously?" She asked, and now all three culprits shook their heads vigorously.

"No, you misunderstood it." Okay, so now we gaslight the old lady. Good job, Deven. "I was going to say, 'Temple, my temples are hurting,' until she screamed court."

With that, he touched his temples and started rubbing them lightly.

So lame.

"And I was going to say that we have a shoot at the church until Neava screamed." Good job to you too, Preet.

Very. Fucking. Lame.

"Yeah, so court's the only option left, so yeah, we got married there...we? They, I mean they. All three of us can't marry each other, I mean we don't want to—I don't know about them, but I'm not into that polygamy shit—I think I should just stop babbling and let them tell you their love story. It's an interesting one, straight out of a movie. Hear it once, you'll love the story." She changed the topic halfway after I and Deven looked at her with deadpan eyes. Even Mrs. Patel was dumbfounded.

She either needs to get out of his house and never come back or zip her mouth and never open it.

"Yeah, I'd love to hear it." She stuttered in between. No one is ever going to get completely fooled by our fake marriage thing. I repeat, no one, ever.

"So, tell her where did you guys meet, because you won't like it if I do. I mean, it's your story, so..." Neava shrugged and raised her hands in surrender, taking a step back. I'm glad that she chose not to create more chaos.

"We met at her brother's wedding." Deven took a seat on the chair which he was previously leaning on. "I was working in the same company as her brother, Abhinav, and we were good friends. The moment I laid my eyes on her in that yellow lehenga, my gut feeling whispered some sweet nothing to me. And I knew she was the one."

Wow. But the first time we met each other, I had worn a white sharara.

Yeah, but he's lying. Of course, he doesn't remember. Why should he? Let it be. I'm happy that at least he is good at making up stories.

"But there was a problem," he added, catching all of our attention. I was very interested in this newly brewing love story of ours. "She was about to turn twenty back then, whereas I was already twenty-five."

I hummed, totally impressed by the way he was narrating the fake story.

"So, what did you do then?" Mrs. Patel asked him. He took a moment to reply after glancing at me. I nodded, secretly showing him a thumbs-up in appreciation of his tale.

"I waited," he said with a half-shrug.

So romantic. And so fake. I love it.

"You waited?" she asked.

"Yeah, I tried to move on from this just-a-crush. But it turned out to be the kind of crush I could never get over." The fact that Neava was silent the whole time listening to him showed how invested we were in the story.

"But then she was in Delhi for her studies and internship while I was in Mumbai working in corporate. Four years later, fate led to us meeting again, and now here we are happily married." He completed the fake love story, and I realized that I had been grinning the whole time.

"You guys were meant to be then. I'm so happy for you both," she said and smiled sweetly. After a while of chatting, she left, saying that it was time for her naughty grandson to return home from school.

As soon as she left, we sighed and I tiredly sat on the sofa. The whole time I was scared that one of us would say something unnecessary and ruin everything.

She might mention this to Aniketh's mother since they probably became friends by now, living across from each other.

"Aye haye, kya jhooti story banayi aapne. Main khud impress hogayi," I applauded his performance, and he didn't give a specific expression.

[Wow, you created such an awesome story. Even I was impressed.]

"Of course. Someone had to save the day."

"You guys seriously didn't discuss this before? Never had a conversation to build up your fake story?" Neava placed her hands on her waist and questioned us like a nursery teacher.

I shook my head, biting my tongue, and she facepalmed. "Seriously guys? Plan it properly. Why are you both so casual about this?"

"Right now, Deven managed with his made-up story. We'll stick to this story now. The way he narrated it added some essence of reality to it," I replied and then added, "At least we managed it properly."

"Although the first part wasn't convincing enough, Deven saved it all with the end," she said to him, and I tapped the top of his head twice.

"Good boy." He looked at me from the corner of his eye with a smug look on his face while I just showcased my teeth to him.

"Uh la la." We both turned our heads to her, who was standing still with a smirk.

"Okay, now let's get to work. Before that, I have a question. Are you ready to kiss for the pictures?" She asked as if it was no big deal, and my eyes widened.

"Kiss as in kiss kiss?" I asked her, and she nodded. I stood up from my place, and so did Deven. We turned towards each other at the same time, stared for two seconds, and then turned back to Neava.

"Absolutely not!" we replied in sync.

Thank God he's not flirting with me in front of her. If she gets to know about it, she will unnecessarily exaggerate a simple flirt.

"Why did I even bother asking?"

✧

"I look cute in this," I pointed out the picture while adjusting it inside the photo frame.

"You always look cute." Ignoring the flirt I'm living with, I decided to continue my work. Neava gave us these pictures within a day because either she really wanted to help us, or she was just very free.

"I look hot in this one," he showed me one picture, and he wasn't wrong.

"Can't say the same," I replied, trying to hold back my giggle. He just sighed.

"Kids."

"Yes, uncle?" I asked, and he looked at me weirdly. He wanted to say something but just shook his head.

"Kaam karo kaam. Tado mat mujhe," he said, running a hand through his hair. I just rolled my eyes.

[Work, don't stare at me.]

"Aapko nahi toh kisiko tadu?" I bit my inner cheek, trying to gauge his reaction. He just raised his head, and his jaw dropped.

[If not you, who else will I stare at?]

"Aise flirt mat karo mujhse," he replied, and I brought the stool near the wall where I was supposed to hang the photo frames.

[Don't flirt with me.]

"Kyu?"

[Why?]

"Pyaar hojayega," he replied and added a second later, "Aapko."

[You'll fall in love with me.]

"Aap mujhe aap kyu bulate ho? Main toh choti hu aapse," I asked him, raising my eyebrows as I climbed on the stool.

[Why do you address me as 'Aap'? I'm younger than you.]

"Oh haan. Main kyu tumhe aap bulata hu?" he questioned, and I shrugged.

[Oh yes, why do I address you that way?]

"Nahi bolunga abse. Tum bhi mat bola karo, sirf pati dev bulaya karo." I had to glance back and shoot him a look while he passed a tight-lipped smile.

[I won't say it anymore. You also shouldn't, just call me husband.]

"Ji, aur kuch, pati dev?" I asked him, mirroring the same sweet expression on my face.

[Yeah, anything else, husband?]

"Jo bolunga wo toh tum dogi nahi, aardhangini," he said with a dramatically sad expression on his face. I picked up a plastic showpiece and threw it at him.

[You won't give me what I'll ask for, wifey.]

"Apna pyaar mat fheko merepe aise," I scrunched my nose.

[Don't throw your love at me like this.]

Kya kuch bhi bolta hai ye insaan.

[This person speaks nonsense.]

"Aap kuch bhi fheko mat," I replied. I hung the three photo frames of us, the newly fake married couple, on the wall and kept one on the table stand.

[And you don't speak nonsense.]

In one picture, I was kissing his cheek, which again I was forced to do. In the second one, we were staring at each other with the sun setting behind us. And the third one was of him staring at me while I made a face. All three of them were very cute.

In the one kept on the table stand, there were trees lit up with lights, and it was clicked during the night. We were wearing our coats as it was cold; he had placed one hand on my waist while I bent a little backward. Our faces were almost touching each other, as if we were about to kiss while we kept staring at each other, pretending to be in love.

That was my favorite one.

"Wifey, stop adoring me in the picture while I'm standing here in front of you. And your phone is ringing," he said the important piece of information at the very end of the statement, and I just wondered what kind of human he is.

"Who is it?" I asked him.

"Your brother, Abhinav. And it's a video call." I jumped down from the stool like I was jumping off a cliff.

"Now shush. Pretend that you don't exist at the moment," I instructed him, pointing my index finger.

"Okay, wifey," he replied, keeping a finger on his lips. I clicked on accept after going to a corner of the house where only the wall was visible in the background.

"Hi," I mumbled, and it took some time for the video to load. Once it did, I heard a group of voices together, which came out loud.

"Heyy."

It wasn't just my brother; Aditi Bhabhi, their kid Avyaan, my cousin brother Sahil, and his wife, Ananya, were all there, waving at me excitedly.

"Why isn't Deven accepting the call?" My eyes widened at their question.

How do they know?

✧

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