"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them." - Leo Tolstoy
After her father, the head of a powerful Mafia family passes away, Shaivi...
"And now, welcome the stars for the night, my sister Shaivi Raisinghania and her husband, my dearest jiju, Anmay Kohli!"
I heard Akanksh announce. The doors opened, and both Anmay and I walked in hand in hand. The cameras flashed, and the guests cheered. I could feel Anmay smiling, but his hand in mine was tense. Like he was scared. I squeezed it once to reassure him. He nodded, smiling wider. I had to admit, had I not known about our arrangement, his smile would have fooled me too.
A girl ran up to us, her blue dress falling effortlessly off her body. Her hair was let loose in soft ringlets, her smile brighter than all the stupid lights the room had. She looked shyly at me, before poking Anmay. He cleared his throat.
"This is Mira, my younger sister." He introduced, and the girl waved at me.
"Nice to meet you, bhabhi."
"Nice to meet you too, Mira. I hope everything was well on your trip here." I smile back at her. She seemed genuinely nice and sweet. Looks wise, she was similar to Anmay. But she carried a free spirit he didn't. He was burdened by the responsibility of being the caretaker, and yet he made sure she was always happy.
"It was amazing! The pilot and air hostesses were so nice to me. But why was I the only person on the plane?" She questioned innocently.
"That's because it was a private jet, darling." I shrug, and both her and Anmay's eyes widen. "What, like I was going to let my only sister-in-law travel like a common person? Tch."
"Bhaiyya told me about your arrangement." She whispered.
"So? Contract or not, you're associated with my family now, Mira. And despite what they all say, we Raisinghania are committed to family. So as long as your brother and I are together, you can feel free to contact me if you need anything at all, okay?"
She nodded, before turning to face Anmay, "If you don't mind, can I have a word with him?"
"Of course. Go ahead."
I watch her lead him to the other corner of the room, far from the cameras and the nosy people. I, on the other hand, turn to find Naira walking towards me with drinks.
"Drink up, it's gonna be a long night." She handed me a glass. "And for the record, I don't buy all this 'met and fell in love' bullshit. So you better come clean to me, Shaivi."
I huff, taking a sip of my drink. "I'll text you the story later. Too many eyes here." She nodded, gulping her drink down.
Anmay and I mingled around the party, chatting with fellow peers. Most people seemed to buy the story I had painted, and those who didn't, well they had no space to voice it. From time to time, my eyes flitted over to where Anmay was, taking his sight in. The moment I saw him talk to any other woman, my possessiveness flared. All I wanted to do was pluck out the lady's eyeballs and feed them to her, but I held back. And I didn't even like the dude.
"Now now, time for the newlyweds to toast. Anmay, Shaivi, join me, please." Sharma ji announced, clinking his glass. We both made our way to him. Anmay stood beside me, placing a hand on the small of my back. He made sure to not touch me, only my saree, and it made my respect for him grow 10-fold. He was a good man, but unfortunately, in my real world, the mafia world would swallow him alive and spit him out like he was a mere piece of chewing gum.
"To Shaivi and Anmany!" He cheered, and so did everyone else. Both of us raised our glasses too, but before we could sip, a reporter called out.
"Sir, Ma'am, how about you intertwine your hands and drink from each other's glasses? It would make a romantic picture worthy of front page news."
I look up at Anmay. He looks unsure, nervous, and uncomfortable. "Maybe we shou-"
"Let's do this." He whispered, turning around to face me. He had schooled his expressions back again, and it worked. The hoots and cheers from the crowd boosted us as we intertwined our hands, taking a sip from each other's glasses.
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(The only image I found explaining this lol)
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the entire party, or rather, the entire world faded. It was just him and I. I noticed every small thing about him. The tiny scar under his earlobe, the way his eyes didn't crinkle when he faked a smile, the way his eyes were dead set on my face, the arousal in them, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. One move and I could cup his face with my hands. Pull him down and-
"That's it, got the shot, thanks." The reporter muttered, and we crashed back into the real world. We awkwardly stepped away from each other, eyes averted to the floor. Based on the cat-calls, I realized that both him and I were blushing. I looked up to face him and saw that his face was red. Like unnaturally red.
"Anmay?"
He stuttered and stumbled over his words, his face going slightly purple.
"Anmay? Talk to me. Are you o-"
Before I could finish the sentence, he had collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest.
"Anmay!" I shriek, falling to my knees and cradling his face. The look of pure terror in his eyes scared me too. "Someone call an ambulance!". I didn't look back to see if they heard me or not. I heard the guests gasp and gossip, but i ignored them. All I was worried about was the man in my arms.
"Anmay, stay awake for me, okay? Stay awake."
He wheezed and coughed, clutching his chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the paramedics rushing in. In just a few moments, they had his loaded onto a stretcher, and began leading him to the ambulance. I followed, staying by this side. Just as the door shut and the ambulance siren blared loudly, I whispered in his ear,
"It's going to be okay, you'll be okay, yeah baby?"
