Annika Mehra has a hundred things she needs to take care of: her business, her sister, her familial responsibilities and quite a few things she would rather forget.
The unfortunate circumstances which entangle the lives of an unorganised and energe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The large ballroom faced the east, and thus the warmth of the sun filtered through the floor to ceiling French windows. I took in the grandeur and splendour of the ballroom, frowning as the structure appeared to be familiar.
"Why does this look like the main ballroom in the east wing of Château de la Muette in France?" I wondered out loud.
Mr. Oberoi turned towards me, an eyebrow arched with an amused smirk, "That's because it's been modelled after that."
I opened my mouth, my eyes widening, before closing it once more.
"Who designed it?" I inquired.
"I did," Mr. Oberoi replied.
"You design ballrooms?" I echoed in disbelief.
"The idea was mine," Mr. Oberoi replied. "The design was taken care of by Om. And the architecture was taken care of by a friend from London."
"Have you ever been there?" I inquired.
"Of course," he looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "How else do you expect me to have supervised all this?"
"Google?" I shrugged.
He shook his head, an exasperated smile on his face as he walked towards the raised platform at the very end, resembling the stage where the orchestra had played, the last time I'd been at the chateau in France.
It felt like ages, despite it having been only six years ago.
"So, you and Shivaay will make a statement first and foremost, about you not being pregnant," Piyali said, as soon as we'd climbed the steps, and onto the podium. "You aren't, right?" She tilted her head at me, questioningly.
"NO!" I stared at her, horrified. "No," I lowered my voice, as Mr. Oberoi winced beside me.
"Alright," Piyali nodded. "Do you two need some time to prepare? Or do you just wish to start?"
Mr. Oberoi glanced at me, before turning to his cousin, with a sigh, "Let's get this over with."
>>•<<
I tapped my foot in nervousness, as I waited for the onslaught of comments.
Mr. Oberoi and I had already made the necessary statements, regarding me not being pregnant. And currently, the media spokespeople were frowning—— as if someone had just lied to them about serving biryani, and instead given them plain rice.
