The Dating Charade ✔️

Chapter-64

The aesthetically pleasing moodboards above are courtesy Amyra (ImLilMissComplicated) who happens to be the best wedding planner in town ;) 💕

Can't believe I'm finally saying this but I'm actually happy with this update! pheww. silver_dustXX you should be proud of me 😏

One last thing- my girl itsvinisha starts college in a few days so please wish her luck! ❤

**

Omkara Singh Oberoi stood at a distance, taking in his surroundings. The way the Oberoi lawns had been decorated- a burst of the brightest colours against the setting sun, splashed against drapes, vans, tables, and everything that made their garden look like an authentic Punjabi fair- was a sight to this painter's eyes. He couldn't help but admire the intricacy in the works, starting with the detailing on the stage, cushions spread around and giving it a feel of a Qawwali show, to the way the grand gates had been adorned with flowers and props alike. He was enamored by this traditional way of doing things, of spicing up the sangeet ceremony by remembering where their roots lay, while also giving it a modern touch by setting out bars and serving all typses of cuisine, western included. Om knew that Annika was the one at the forefront of all these arrangements, but subconsciously, his mind also travelled to another woman, who he had seen working relentlessly the whole day, personally crafting the make-shift tents and handpainting the technicalities of the vases made out of clay. He was a little envious, to think, that Annika hadn't asked for his help and instead given all these duties to her beloved assistant, but then shook his head at his own thoughts. Sighing, he realized that Miss Gauri Kumari 'Sarma' was starting to affect him more than he would like her to.

"Where are you lost?"

Breaking out of his thoughts, Omkara turned away from the beautiful sight lying before him, to face his elder brother.

"Annika has done a great job," Om said, impressed, and saw Shivaay's cheeks turn slightly pink. His brother was a real goner, wasn't he.

"She has," Shivaay replied, trying to appear casual but not being able to keep the proud, goofy grin off his face. "She's amazing, isn't she? Managing everything and everyone so efficiently and-"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Om said, grinning as he put an arm around Shivaay's shoulders and they started moving back into the mansion. "If you keep continuing, it'll take the whole night, and we really need to get ready for the sangeet."

Shivaay glared at Om, before his own face broke into a smile, and they went inside to get ready for the night.

**

"You're so beautiful, the moon would feel shy looking at you."

Putting final touches to her look in front of the dressing table, Annika rolled her eyes as Shivaay yet again threw her way an overly cheesy dialougue. He was lying down on his bed, leaning on one elbow as he watched her get ready, all decked up himself in his outfit for the night. In a white kurta-pajama, paired with an orange Nehru jacket, he looked absolutely dashing.

"Shivaay, what is up with you?" Annika asked. She had noticed that he was being a little more flirty than usual, and there seemed to be this permanent love-struck look adorned on his face. He had been, since the past half an hour, smiling like an idiot while just staring at her reflection in the mirror. It made Annika wonder why his cheeks weren't hurting.

"What's up with me?" Shivaay repeated. "Nothing is up with me. I'm just telling you how your ethereal beauty makes the moon fall in compa-"

"Okay, enough," Annika glared at him. As much as she loved these compliments, it was difficult to keep the blush of off her face whenever he voiced them. Sighing and raising his hands in surrender, Shivaay got up from the bed, and walked up to stand beside her. They both stood observing their reflection in the mirror. Dressed in a short, off-shoulder, bright orange kameez, paired with a palazzo and netted dupatta, with golden sequined work and latkans dangling at the hems, Annika looked every inch a punjabi kudi. Her hair was tied up into a bun, a few strands curled around her face, and she wore golden jhumkas that almost reached her bare, transculent shoulders.