Always a Match

Chapter One

|Chapter 01|

With the drink twirling in my hand rather mindlessly, my brows remain furrowed with perplexity, the voices of people around me appearing to be nothing more than a mere buzz to the ears now.

Who was this girl?

Focus on the guy in front of you, for now, Kiran.

How did she happen to know me so well?

Dude! Aman is now asking you something and y'know what? You're not paying heed to it!

And the next moment, I'm pulled out of my reverie when a hand drapes over and shakes me by my shoulder, making me glance up into those hazel eyes that are peering at me.

"Kiran?" Aman asks for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah?" I mumble, not really sure about what to utter now.

"Where are your thoughts lurking?" the raven-haired, lanky guy asks me, his hazel eyes seemingly offended at my negligence to hearing him.

"Nothing specific," I shake my head dismissively.

Shrugging with a roll of his eyes, Aman turns back to smile and greet a fellow who approached us smilingly. This is the thing I hate about attending celebratory gatherings: you need to smile at every damned person, expressing how happy you are in meeting them, when in reality, you're not even sure if you've seen that face of theirs before, ever.

It wasn't always like this though.

Shut up! Your being my consciousness doesn't really give you the right to poke in every single minute!

Whatever.

Sighing, I peer up and scan the place, hoping to find those brown eyes once again amid these crowds of guests. She was a young girl, dressed in a lehnga, as far as I recall clearly.

Lucky for you! Every other girl here is young and wearing a lehnga.

Get out of here.

Out of your brain? Not really possible. Remember the Golden Words? "I am you"? Which means you need to throw yourself out in order to throw me-

UGH.

"Kiran!"

"Wha-" I barely get to voice myself when I meet those dark and annoyed eyes of the groom. Oops. Looks like I'm zoning out a bit too much for even Rishav to handle now.

"Leave your work stress at the workplace," Rishav tells me, approaching me and Aman with quick strides, his crème-colored sherwani glimmering under the bright evening lights.

"That's what I've been telling him," Aman pipes in, much to my annoyance.

"Ananya says she wants you in the wedding photograph as well," Rishav mutters as he faces me, referring to his bride.

"But isn't it a family photo?" I ask, clearly clueless.

Rishav looks at me meaningfully, hoping that I get what he wants to convey. I blink at him stupidly, earning a disappointed sigh from him, his young and stark features etched with the feeling of being let down.

"Ananya hasn't asked for you," the boy admits it to me with a coy and uncertain smile. "I want you to be a part of the family picture, because no relative of mine deserves that spot as much as you do, despite being a friend to me."

The words make my lips upturn, passing a warm smile at Rishav who shuffles at his feet with ambiguity. Nodding in positive; I follow the young boy who trails ahead of me. In all honesty, Rishav has been a 'kiddo' to me. Ever since I first met him when he was an amateur little boy, aspiring to be a cricketer, to this day, when his name means something to the entire country, I've seen him grow and achieve steadily.