Book 4 in the Proposal Series.
YUGANTIKA IYENGAR
"You cannot fight your doom. It will fucking destroy you, Pookie."
She laughed, wrecking it deep within her guts. A voice that could slice through all the weak hearts. "No one can bring doom on me."...
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Remember, alone was enough?
She lived that statement in the past months.
The night of the Gala had transpired in to several storms that Yugantika was left to deal with, the consequences nothing but a harsh reminder of ill-fated associations she had bothered herself with.
It was a price she had paid. A fee of enjoying some good company, some drinks, and some power game where it was her who ruled, only to be dethroned and pushed in a ditch with nothing but dust to hold on to.
She should have restrained, should have remain alone.
Because, while the rest of the world developed when they are held by someone, she bubbled alone. She had never wanted a pair of eyes in a crowd to underestimate her. None of the warmth mattered her, for she basked in cold nights. She had thrived when emotions didn't fill every space within or spilled out into the rest of her cells.
She had strived through being detached, alone.
Should have continued the same.
There was never a need of colouring hope, no promises of love, no awakening to an existence of a heart.
She had been whole in herself, she had learned what being accompanied entailed, far too many times to be burned again yet here she was.
Storming out of that place was the only sane decision her brain could have come up with. Unknown to the cards played by that man, she had chosen to stay silent and walk away. With her heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration, the cool night air slapped her with an onslaught of replay of those mere minutes in his vicinity. With racing thoughts, she hurried away from the venue, the Gala long forgotten.
Her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. The buzz of her phone in her hand felt like an intrusion, a sharp reminder of another world she was desperately trying to escape, a world she had walked through to reach here.
With a clenched jaw and uncontrollable shivering fingers, she had checked the message. It was from Netra, the bearer of unwelcome news more often than not. As she had read the text, another sinking feeling settled in her stomach like a heavy stone.
"Ajji wants to talk."
Those four words sent a chill down Yugantika's spine. Her paternal grandmother—the so-called matriarch of their family, a figure both revered and feared. For Yugantika, however, fear outweighed any semblance of reverence. Memories from her childhood flooded her mind, memories of a face she wouldn't want to see again even if bestowed with everything in this world.
And she was pretty much robbed of a few things that night.
"This better not be a joke, Netra." Snapping in to the receiver, she had spat the words to Netra.
