When Our Stars Collided

09

{The ones who have read the first book, please warn if you are spoiling something for the people who haven't. Write "Spoiler" in the start and then continue your comment.}

Chapter Nine
""Ji, aur kuch, pati dev?"

✧  P R E E T ✧

"Umm..hey?" I peeped through the door and said to the lady standing in front of me outside. She looked a little old, maybe in her 50s and she was Indian as well. This area where Deven lives is populated by Indians, especially Punjabis and Gujaratis, so it's known as the Indian area.

"Hi. Deven stays here, doesn't he?" she asked me, looking confused, and I nodded my head.

"He does. He's just in the shower right now," I replied. She scanned me from head to toe and then stared at my face awkwardly. I noticed the plate in her hand with another plate on top of it, covering whatever was inside.

"Oh. I made aamras-puri today. I brought some for him as well. He's living here alone and probably misses Indian food, so I thought I'd make extra for him," she said, and a smile appeared on my face. She seemed like a very nice lady and radiated that motherly feeling.

"That's so sweet of you. Please, come inside. Have a seat," I said politely, welcoming her inside. She sat on the couch and her eyes fell on Neava walking out of the kitchen.

It was Sunday today, all three of us had an off, so we—no, Neava decided that we needed to do a photoshoot and at least decorate this house like a married couple's. So there I was, wearing a white flowy sundress with small yellow sunflowers drawn on it. It was spaghetti-strapped and reached below my knees.

I had three or four other outfits packed in my bag as well, so it looks like the pictures are from different days and locations. It'd look weird if all the pictures had us in the same clothes.

Neava brought her camera with her. It was our luck that we had a cinematographer already, so we didn't need to hire anyone for pictures or click them with our phones. Also, she's very good at it; when it comes to her, the ideas, poses, lighting—Neava Madam knows it all.

"I'm Mrs. Leela Patel." Neava's eyes shined when she heard this. She took a complete U-turn and rushed towards the aunty, taking a seat beside her.

"Arey, Aunty, you're Gujarati? Hu pan Gujju chu," she started babbling in Gujarati to her.
[Even I'm a Gujarati.]

I've noticed most Gujaratis connect with each other the moment they get to know the other person is of the same community. It's like a soul connection between them.

And my best friend is a living example of this. I wouldn't be surprised if after a few days she asks the aunty to find a Gujju guy for her. She's capable of everything, especially with her socializing skills. She starts a conversation with anyone who looks at her for more than five minutes.

Once, we went to a brand store in India—I don't remember which one it was as we were just teenagers back then. There was an employee who looked a few years older than us, and he was roaming around, keeping an eye while she was trying on all the shades of lipstick she liked on the back of her hand.

When she was totally done with the employee staring at her and giving her side eye, she started laughing and told him that we were actually going to buy the product and not just messing around. There, the employee started a whole new conversation with her. She almost gained a fan, but then we had to leave.

If only we had stayed a little longer, he'd have asked for her name and stuff. It looked like the start of a cute little love story to me.

"Who are you? Deven's girlfriend?" Aunty asked Neava, and she shook her head vigorously. I had the urge to laugh at her expression until she pointed towards me and my expression turned horrified.