Best Friends and Cousins? (An Indian Love Story)

Epilogue

A/N: OH MY GOODNESS! I had another chapter written out for this book, but Wattpad glitched and I forgot about it. I was proofreading/editing it on my Word document version and I realised I never put it up, so here it goes, as an Epilogue.

Bonus: POV shift because I am really emotional (don't ask, it's weird)...this is going to be Nikhil's perspective.

"You know I had this really weird dream today?" she mumbles, arm thrown across her eyes as I draw the curtains to try block out the light that's only making our headaches worse.

"I'm done with your weird dreams. Please don't tell me what it was," I say, stretching out on the bed beside her and pulling her close to me and spooning her. We both are very flushed from attempting to keep our heads from splitting apart, not bothering if our clothes are even on properly. If someone were to walk in, they'd see a very wrong picture. They wouldn't be far from the truth though. I close my eyes, waiting for her to continue.

"You were in it, arsehole," she shoots back, earning a snort from me.

"Well then, I don't have an option now, do I? Go on, tell me." I feel her shuffling, followed by a groan, and I think she moved her head the wrong way.

"I dreamt that we got married. Three years ago. We started dating six years ago, apparently." I earn a smack to my arm when I let out a snicker. "Let me explain. For junior and senior years of college, your only ex and her room-mate moved to U-Toronto. With Harley, we all moved in together and lived like that until we all got stable. We didn't date for long, but you proposed to me while we were still living in that apartment, and about an year after we graduated, we got settled and then we got married."

"That was extremely vivid. Also, I'd never be your husband. Nope, I know you better," I say, snuggling her closer. She groans in response, freeing herself and sitting up.

"You know, I'd poison your drink if I were your wife," she says, sipping from a cool bottle of water and holding it to her head.

"If I were your husband, I'd open that poison bottle for you myself because I make shit coffee and everybody knows that," I retort, stretching my hand out for the bottle. I should probably add that she hands it over to me.

"Remind me to never let you two go clubbing again," a 16-year old boy with a bad case of bedhead enters the room with a tray of food, water, and some medicines for a hangover.

"Thank you, honey. I'm sorry for making you do this," she says, taking the plate he hands her.

"Don't worry about it, mom," he says, kissing her cheek. "I'm never letting you take her out clubbing again," he glares at me. I just raise my arms in surrender. "You two better get well soon, I can't handle Brinda on my own anymore. I've already had to say no to ten of the guys she suggested. They're all my friends, I know what they're like."

"Sorry Ashok, we'll be down as soon as we can," I say, giving him a one-armed hug as he hands me a plate as well. He just smiles before walking out and closing the door behind him.

"I HEARD YOU GUYS! YOU BETTER NOT BE GETTING A DIVORCE OR I'LL GO BACK TO THE FOSTER HOME THAN CHOOSE BETWEEN YOU TWO! YOU'VE BEEN MARRIED FOR THREE YEARS NOW, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!" a girl shouts from outside. I burst out laughing, setting my now empty plate down.

"How the hell did you finish it that quick? Actually, you know what, never mind. You become so weird when you are hungover," she says, emptying her own plate and setting it aside.

"You should see yourself when you're drunk. Oh gods, I really have to take up on Ashok's orders about not letting me go out clubbing again," I say, rubbing my temples.