The law of love

chapter 7

He looked amused at the ghost tattoos we got.

"Do you want to eat something?" He spoke as I nodded in No.

"Drop me home; I am tired." I spoke as he revived the car. I tiptoed to my room as I gently closed the door.

An old memory surfaced as I tried to sleep.

I looked at the boy standing next to a man with a wine glass of Dom Perignon in his hand. just pretending to enjoy it. so that no one would notice that he hates the taste. Louis Roederer's Cristal was more to his taste. I knew this, like I knew most things about him. his gaze shifting from the man in search of something or someone else. He looks at me and, as expected, goes back to his conversation. Next to me was my mother, talking animatedly with another woman about the Niloticus crocodile Himalayan Birkin bag. She has been obsessed with it for a long time.

"Mrs. Patel, it is very difficult to acquire. I have been trying for it since last year, but to no avail." She spoke in a dejected tone as the supposed Mrs. Patel agreed.

"I know, right. I was also requesting someone to get it for me, but they said they are limited editions and a specific amount is made every year."

I had it.

I do.

Kabir gave it to me on my 18th birthday. He thought girls liked these gifts. 'purses, and all'. His words not mine. and I appreciated his efforts.Anyone would considering It was $450,000 USD. But to me, nothing was beautiful about a bag made after killing someone. That too is an animal, just for their exotic sking; it almost made me keep it far in my closet and not touch it. And that's what I did. 

I excused myself as my mother nodded and dismissed me. To think of it now, I am glad my brother and father were not here. At least my mother lets me breathe in peace. She may seem very dismissive, but she is not. She observes everything and everyone. she does what she can to make me comfortable. Everything, from my education to my clothes, is taken care of by her. She wanted me to be someone that she could not be. Her only fault was that she married the wrong man. and God forbid, she pays for that sin every day. She provides me with the lack of freedom that I have, or as much as she can, given the circumstances.

I walked in the dimly lit corridors as I heard yelling from a room. My heels clicked on the floor as I moved towards the room. Suddenly, Kabir came out of the room, fuming as he looked at me. I tried to say something, but before that, he dragged me upstairs.

He laid his head on my lap as I stroked his hair gently.

"What was that about?" I asked, almost whispering, because he was on the verge of sleep.

"Nothing you should be worried about," he said as he nuzzled his face in my stomach.

I covered him with a blanket as I placed his head on the pillow. This was his party—not his, actually—but it was organized by his father. Every businessman was invited today, including my father, but he couldn't care less; he would much rather sit in his office and plan against Raichand's than attend their party.

I walked in the hall towards my mother when the person I least expected to talk to me appeared in front of me.

siddhart raichand

kabir's father.

standing tall and wearing an Armani prive suit custom made for him. one glance, and you would think of him as a classy gentleman. Oh, how wrong you would be! He is anything but that. I looked at his hand, dripping with blood.

"You are hurt," I stated.

"You would be too." I looked into his eyes as they focused on me, as if that idea was very appealing to him.

"Listen, little girl, sometimes things are not what they seem. Run before it's too late." He spoke directly, looking into my eyes. With those words, one would think he was concerned for me. Oh, how wrong you would be! He wanted me to run because he liked the chase. like a predator would.

I was about to leave when I turned around and spoke to him.

"Get it bandaged or you might end up with a bigger problem. we don't want it infected do we?"

I walked to my mother, or at least tried to, when another unwanted person appeared in front of me.

"Where were you?" Abhiraj asked. another character in my fucked-up story.

Abhiraj Singh Shekhawat.

"None of your business," I said, brushing past him.

"Everything related to you is my business." He spoke barely, containing his anger. He hated it that I talked to him this way. because no one else would dare.

He was the guy your mother wanted you to marry—too good for the world. but not for you, and he had this idea that I was his.

"No, it's not Shekhawat. Go back to your little date. She must be waiting for you." I clenched my jaw, thinking I had woken up on the wrong side today. Everyone I meet is pissing me off today.

"How jealous are we?" he spoke as I rolled my eyes.

"She is not the first, and she surely isn't the last shekhawat."

"Yes, because you will be the last," he said, seemingly calming down.

"Keep dreaming," I said as I walked to my mother.

"Ma, let's go back home. I am tired," she nodded as she bid her goodbyes.

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