like every other book lover she also had many fictional husbands and boyfriends. she dreamed of her future husband or as she liked to call "Her man", just like them who hates everyone but her.
but what if she gets exactly that?
dreamy right? she...
Their faces were inches away, Aanya hand on his jaw, while the other was in the air which didn't go noticed by Riyaan, slowly her free hand came towards his right upper cheek, just below his eyes, picking carefully his fallen lashes.
"gotcha!" Aanya exclaimed loudly, which broke his trace, for a second he felt disappointed.
It's not like he was waiting for a kiss, or he never kissed anyone, But things are different with her, he won't know if it's a good difference or bad.
"what's this? " he asked her looking at her fingers which held his lash securely.
"you don't know?" she asked shockingly as it was what she always does when her lashes fall or when she was a kid she used to plug her lashes so that she can wish for anything.
He shakes his head telling her no and she took it upon herself to teach him the value of lashes.
Putting it on the back of his hand, she asked him to close his eyes and wish for something.
"make your wish and blow it, okay? " she instructed, nodding he did what she told him to and blew on the lash with a small smile.
He looked at her softly with a small smile.
"I wanna ask what u wished for, but I will not as if you tell me, it'll not come true," she said in one breath.
He shook his head at her antics.
"didn't u have to go to the parlor for the reception?" he asked trying to subtly change the subject.
"I do, but I'm tired," she said with a pout and rest her head on the window that was behind the couch.
He looked at her, finding her antic cute.
"let's just get some with it," she said and got up to go to the parlor, but a call stopped her. It was her assistant.
"speak." That's all she said and her assistant informed her of something, to which she replied 'I will deal with him when I come back.
Riyaan can sense something is wrong, but he didn't question knowing if she wanted to she'll tell him.
~~~~~~'
She's been sitting in the parlor for hours, she doesn't know what these makeup artists doing on her face or what the hair stylist doing with her hair.
"Now you can open your eyes, ma'am." the makeup artist said after she don't know how many hours.
Opening her eyes she can say they didn't do much, kept it as natural as they can, but still a good job. She felt beautiful.
She was already wearing a silver, full embroidery gown, her dupatta fixed on her head with pins.
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