How to Woo Your Bride

11| The Flight

A smart man makes a mistake, learns from it, and never makes that mistake again. But a wise man finds a smart man and learns from him how to avoid the mistake altogether.

Roy H. Williams

Riya's POV

   Once again, I was packed and whisked off to the airport. My family came from my house, and I was with Madhan and his family. It's going to take a while for me to call his family mine too. I was honestly surprised to see that Madhan packed only a duffel bag.

   When I questioned him about it, he said that while coming, his suitcases were filled with gifts, and he had a couple of clothes at home, so he didn't feel the necessity to waste space on his stuff.

   My mom said that she was going to ship every little thing that belonged to me. She told me that the next time I would come back, I would be welcomed by a HALF empty house. I rolled my eyes. I didn't own that many stuff.

   Let's see. Twenty salwars, six dresses, eight pajamas, twelve sarees, six jeans, three Anarkalis, ten stuffed animals, my fifty odd novels, okay never mind. Maybe she wasn't exaggerating. I wonder if Madhan's house would be big enough to house all of these things, along with me. I'm sure I'll will need two rooms. I hope he has a three bedroom apartment, since there's no way in hell I'm sharing a room with him. I have never shared my room with anyone. Why would I start now, especially with someone who's big enough to occupy the whole bed?

   I chuckled at the thought of Madhan being chucked out of his house since he had no room to stay in. That earned me some curious glances, but I shrugged it off.

   The parting this time wasn't nearly as bad. I say nearly, since there was crying, but the little part that was NOT bad was cause no one except me cried. I've seen SO many movies where families were crying like they were attending a funeral because the son and daughter in law or vice versa were leaving.

   Pfft, so much for wanting a cinema-like scene at the airport.

   The people who aren't boarding the flight cannot get past the waiting room. Madhan and I had already checked in the bags, with great difficulty I might add, since my suitcase was over the weight limit. I had to take out my huge make-up kit, since that was enough for the bag to go down by a quarter.

   I sighed. It was a handy old make-up kit.

   "I'll get you a new one. I know a shop that sells one just like this, " Madhan offered.

   I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you wear makeup?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

   Madhan look offended. "No. Of course not. I was looking to by one for Reshma, and I came across that one. It was my third choice since this kit is so huge. You look so beautiful without makeup. Why do you need one any way?"

   I suddenly felt devious. I swiped a finger across my cheek and showed it to him. The horrified look he gave was one that was well worth it.

   I laughed as I heard him mutter about how he didn't believe it when he saw those trolls where they show the girl wearing three layers of make-up or something.

   Don't get me wrong. I don't always wear so much make-up. I knew I was going to cry a lot, and I didn't wanna look horrible after that. Hence the three layers. I recalled the evening as I was applying foundation. Reshma was looking through my collection and was totally in awe of it.

   I was pretty surprised actually. I thought she was the not so girly kind a girl. It didn't occur to me to give it to her then. Now that I knew I couldn't take it with me, I knew exactly what to do with it. No one would take better care of it than Reshma. Once the luggage check in was over, we headed over to the waiting room where our families were. We had two hours left to go. And I really wanted to spend it with them. So did Madhan, since he barely gets to see them anymore.