You're My Unique Gift

Unexpected Encounters

KOMAL's POV:

"UGH, I swear I'm about to clock him in less than thirty seconds!" I hissed into my brother's ear—or at least, I thought I did.

Turns out, my so-called 'whisper' wasn't stealthy enough for my iconic Indian mother. With all the quintessential Indian mother genes, she whipped around and shot me—her only daughter—a death glare that would freeze Elza's powers to freeze.

AAWWW! Thanks for loving me so much! As a seasoned delinquent kid, I had been the whole of my life, I could practically see the threat hanging in the air...loud and clear.

"If you squeak another word out, you won't even have a tombstone to mark your grave. You'll simply vanish...to Pluto!"

You would've gulped and shivered if your pointlessly flat ass were in my shoes. She was scary. Icing? She was a high-class high school principal of a fucking DPS who would've your corpse BEHAVED! (Stew-dent, lie properly! What is all this, huh?)

But I did not have a pointlessly flat ass! Mine is perfectly round and bouncy like a peach and as shameless as I am, I did what any shameless rebel would do: I flashed her a cheeky smile and did exactly what I was told not to.

I hissed out my agonies accidentally a bit louder this time (just to watch her huff out an annoyed breath and puff her cheeks).

"I am not kidding," I said with an evil grin. "I am gonna swat him like a mosquito and send him flying over—"

"Dear Lord! This girl will be the death of me!"

She lost it! My mother, Mrs. Madhusudan Singh Sikarwar with three decades of experience as a teacher, just did. She crumbled before me like a fragile porcelain figurine, shattered by the weight of her own sorrow. It wasn't the first time. She had lost to me when I chose journalism. When I got my first job as a reporter and when I was promoted to get an exclusive show each Saturday at 10:30. I triumphantly watched her stomping her way to my father, Mr. Mahesh Singh Sikarwar, and whine like a little baby.

Grow some balls woman!

"Did I hear mosquitoes? By the grace of the Almighty, I shall have someone attend to this matter right away! These people never learn. Harish..."

The infuriatingly worthless perfect piece of carb-eater's shit AKA the mosquito I was about to swat buzzed in my ear. And I freaking swear if my brother wasn't holding my balled fist to the side, I would have dealt with him right away!

The shit is infamously recognized as Prince Divirath Rao Scindia, my oh-so-charming fiancé and son of the people who couldn't keep their freaking hands to themselves and had to create him! Geez! Horny people those days!

"Umm...no, Harish. Don't bother. Your Royal Highness! It was actually a bee. I think it's the flower decor." Abhay, my brother, hurriedly jumped in halting whatever the royal personnel was about to do to get rid of the mosquitoes. "It is simply irresistible, so enchanting that even these noble creatures couldn't resist its allure."

"Oh! Stop calling me that. We're about to be a family, Abhay. These flowers are exclusively sourced from the illustrious gardens of Versailles, meticulously chosen to embellish this grand occasion with their unmatched beauty and fragrance, who wouldn't like them?" Divirath beamed with a self-satisfied air, his words laced with the regal sophistication of GUPTA PERIOD.

Honestly, I don't know how the Indus Valley Civilization peps talked back then or I might've stumbled on an exact comparison.

Don't believe me yet? Here, listen!

"However, their allure pales in comparison to the charm and elegance that you exude, my love. You look absolutely resplendent. I find myself wishing it were not just our engagement, but our wedding day, so I wouldn't have to bid you farewell at the end of this remarkable day."