Chapter 8 Veera

Chapter 8 Veera

SANA: Wait, you're moving in with Deepak?

VEERA: Yeah, it makes the most sense since we're married and all.

SANA: I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, you had feelings for him, and this could go south.

VEERA: Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence. Glad that you think I'm not mature or strong enough to not fall apart if I'm in

close proximity with a man that YOU ENCOURAGED ME TO STAY FAKE MARRIED TO.

SANA: Ugh, fine. I just want what's best for you. I feel like I let you down and Deepak can help you, but I'm worried if you get

too close personally.

VEERA: I can make my own decisions, Sana. I'm holding up my part of the plan and you just need to focus on yours.

As they deplaned, Veera clutched her phone after she reread the last few messages she'd received from her sister. Maybe Sana was right. She shouldn't have let this fake marriage plan get this far. It almost felt like pretend when she was dressing up and taking pictures in Goa. It was fun to have her mehndi done and to pick out shiny jewelry. But when Deepak kissed her, the deep, intense focus of his lips and the brush of his tongue devouring her in a way she'd never felt before, she began to understand how badly this could wreck her.

Her brain worked overtime as she tried to figure out how to talk about boundaries and barriers as they snaked through the

customs line, and Deepak's fingertips periodically caressed the small of her back. She couldn't find the words to tell him

she was scared. That she didn't want them to forget that they are not supposed to treat their fake marriage as real.

Even as Deepak's driver helped them with their bags and ushered them toward the waiting vehicle, she tried to formulate her

argument.

She slid into the back of the car and took in the luxurious interior. It smelled of lemon-scented leather wipes, and the seats

were soft and deep. They pulled out of the airport parking lot, and through tinted windows Veera smiled at the familiar steel

bridges and scaffolding, the congested traffic and pedestrians as they navigated toward Brooklyn.

No matter where she'd traveled to, there was nothing like New York City.

Veera worried her diamond ring and wedding band with her thumb, and it slid in a circle. Hopefully the city would be kinder

to her this time around.

"If you give me the keys and the information for your storage unit, I can have a few movers empty it out for you and put your things in my garage," Deepak said after almost ten minutes of silence. "It doesn't make sense for you to pay for storage when I have so much space."

She glanced at him across the bench seat. "It'll be such a pain in the ass to move my things again when we're done with our..."

She glanced toward the front of the car at the driver, then back at Deepak. "We'll figure it out later."

"Okay." He said it so coolly, but she caught the subtle clench of his jaw. His eyes remained glued on his phone as he continued

to respond to messages.

Veera realized that she couldn't read Deepak anymore, which made their whole plan so much more difficult to navigate. Since

they met again in Goa, something was different, and she wasn't sure exactly what it was. If she wasn't careful, Sana's warning

could be her reality.

The car pulled up in front of his brownstone twenty minutes later, and she sighed at the beautiful brick face and wide front

steps that led to a glossy black front door. As much as she missed her small Jersey City apartment, Deepak's town house was

her dream home.

Veera got out on the sidewalk side and rounded the back to take her bags. Deepak put a hand on her arm.

"Richard? Can you roll our bags into the garage? I'll come down and grab them later."

"Yes, sir," their driver said. He was a slender, middle-aged man with a crisp black suit that felt so appropriate for Deepak's

employment. Just as he collected the bags on the sidewalk he stopped and motioned at Deepak. "Your friends. They're waiting

for you upstairs."

Deepak looked at Veera, then back at Richard. "Friends?"

"Yes," Richard replied. "Your security team alerted us, and since one of the gentlemen was the same fellow who used to live with you every other month, they were cleared to enter."

"Bunty," Deepak said with a sigh. He looked down at Veera. "Looks like they're ready to ambush us."

"Oh," she said. There were no other words that came to mind. It had been so long since she'd seen Kareena and Bobbi. She used

to be with them a few times a week, and now she'd gone almost a year without having them in her home, or across from her at

a dinner table.

All the hesitation, confusion, and hurt feelings she'd felt when it came to her relationship with her best friends faded to

background noise at the thought of seeing their beautiful, bright faces again.

"You're not scared to see them, are you?" Deepak asked.

"Of course I am," she replied, as she bounced on her heels.

He grinned, his flash of white teeth. "I don't know, it looks like you're scared."

"You're being a nagging husband," she muttered as Deepak laughed and put in the door code to let her inside. She kicked off

her shoes at the front entrance, then quickly walked up the first flight of stairs to the main floor. The ceilings were over

ten feet high, and to the left was a large kitchen designed like a picturesque French farmhouse space with wide countertops,

open shelving, and a massive expensive range with chrome knobs and handles.

To the right was the living room and a fireplace that was big enough to stand inside. Above the mantel was a flat-screen TV

that rivaled most movie theater screens. The deep, buttery leather sofas were arranged to face the screen with a low, wide

coffee table in the center.

At the moment, Kareena Mann and her husband, Dr. Prem Verma, as well as Bobbi Kaur, and her boyfriend, Benjamin Padda, were

sprawled over the sofas, speaking in soft, hushed tones.

Veera dropped her tote bag on the expansive dining table that separated the kitchen and living space. With her heart bursting at seeing the people she loved, she shouted, "I'm back!" and held her arms wide.

Kareena and Bobbi shrieked and vaulted off the couches. They tackled Veera in the softest, warmest hugs, and she held on as

tight as she could, reveling in the feeling of being loved by her chosen family. No matter what happened, she knew that she

was loved.

"I missed you two so much," she whispered, and she heard Bobbi sniffle first. Then Kareena. Then she was sniffling, too, and

they were all holding each other, hearts beating, eyes squeezed shut, remembering this moment. Veera had so many regrets over

the last year, and her biggest one was having to let go of Bobbi and Kareena.

Thankfully, they had full lives now. They had partners that took up space and time.

Bobbi and Kareena began talking at once as they touched her chuda, examined her mehndi, and shrieked over the size of her

diamond ring. Their gentle and supportive hands made her feel the weight of her new jewelry, of the significance of the gold,

the red, and the diamonds that were supposed to only be for real Desi brides.

Bunty's voice boomed in the background. "Dude, should we be crying, too?"

Deepak's distinctive voice followed. "Shut up, Bunty."

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Prem asked.

"She hasn't been in the U.S. in months. Let her have this moment."

And that's when Veera knew it was time to share their secret. She slowly extracted herself from the group hug and looked over

at Bunty and Prem who stood to the side, next to Deepak.

"We're not really married," she blurted out.

The room went ominously quiet. Veera looked back at Deepak and was grateful when he held out a hand for her. Together, they

stood in front of their best friends and waited for their reaction to the truth.

Bunty was the first one to speak. "I think we're going to need some food for this." He slipped his phone from his back pocket

before firing off a text message.

"And while we wait for the food, we should sit down," Bobbi added. "I have a feeling this is going to take a while."

Veera and Deepak sat on the coffee table facing their friends who reclaimed their spot on the couches. Then when the food

arrived from Bunty's new restaurant, Rani's, a luxury Indian cuisine hot spot in Carroll Gardens, they moved to the dining

table. It was a solid thirty minutes later before they were able to answer all their friends' questions. The remnants of fragrant

biryani, soft fluffy bhature, flaky, crispy samosas, and a mix of curried vegetables and meats sat between them. Veera was

still picking at her food when Prem finally spoke.

"What are you going to do now? For the months before the board meeting, how are you going to use your marriage as a publicity

stunt?" He was the most practical out of Deepak's friends, Veera thought. He'd also had his own public relations disaster

when he first met Kareena as the famed Dr. Dil on the heart health Sunday morning TV show. He'd since retired his Dr. Dil

moniker and ran a South Asian health clinic in Jersey City, but that didn't take away from his experience that was coming

in handy now.

"We hadn't really thought about that quite yet," Deepak answered. He turned to Veera, a questioning expression on his face.

She had no idea what she was supposed to say. Why couldn't just being fake married be enough? It was always enough in the

movies or books. But no. She was Desi, which meant that things were just a tad bit more complicated.

"I wish we had our whiteboard," Kareena said with a sigh. "Remember when we used to use it to draw diagrams of our first dates?

Now we're talking about fooling the New Jersey and New York Indian community. We've moved on to bigger and better things."

"Kareena, I was just thinking the same thing, but it looks like we'll have to manage without it," Bobbi said. Even though

she was dressed in high-waisted jeans and a collared button-down shirt, she controlled the table like a businesswoman. "Deepak?

Veera? If you're going to make this work, you have to follow the chain of command and meet people in order of importance.

First up is a public appearance together with the rest of the board."

"Right," Veera said. "Of course." Thank god for Bobbi , she thought. Her friend was one of the best event planners on the East Coast. If anyone knew about formality and tradition,

it would be Bobbi.

"Before you meet the board," Kareena started, "you should probably visit Deepak's parents' home. You need their support, and

if they're excited, everyone will be excited."

"That's a good idea," Deepak said. "I think my parents would appreciate some time with both Veera and I together." He took

out his phone, and from her position next to him, she saw that he opened up his messaging app and sent a quick note to his

assistant, Kim.

"Wait, don't text Kim," she said and tugged on his sleeve.

He looked up from his phone. "Why not? She knows my father's and my schedules. It'll make things easier if—"

"This is not business," Veera said. "Text your mother, Deepak. I've only met her a few times, but even I know that she'll be insulted if you don't go to her directly."

"Veera has a point," Prem said. "Always go through the moms for marriage stuff."

"What about your family?" Bunty asked Veera. "Do you want to—"

"No," Veera said. "Bobbi, you can loop my mom in on stuff, but my father is not to be involved. We're still no-contact." She

swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Truthfully, she'd had a lot of therapy while she was traveling. She'd talked about

her father until she was exhausted, and now, she barely felt sadness when his name came up. But that didn't mean she was willing

to sacrifice her boundaries for him.

The room became quiet.

Deepak pressed a hand to her lower back, and the warmth of his touch, the pressure of his fingers was oddly soothing in the

moment.

"So we're good?" Deepak said.

"Ah, excuse me?" Bunty said, as he knocked on the dining room table. "I think you're going to have to do more than meet the

board and your parents. You have about two and a half months to really sell your story. According to my mother and her WhatsApp

group, Mrs. W.S. Gupta is casting doubt."

"Of course she is," Deepak murmured. The irritation in his voice had Veera raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head.

"Guys?" Bobbi said. Her eyes went wide, her face brightening like the sun peeking out of fluffy clouds. She laced her fingers

together and leaned over the table as if she were conspiring like an auntie. "We should host a reception!"

"Oh my god, so smart," Kareena said.

"That could work," Prem replied.

"You could use Rani's," Benjamin said. He winked at his girlfriend. One by one excitement took over their faces like they were infected with the thrill of a Desi celebration.

Veera held her hands up in the shape of aT. "Wait a minute, are you seriously using us as an excuse to have a party?"

"Yes," they all said in unison.

She collapsed back in her seat. "Well, at least you're honest."

"Have you thought about what you're going to tell people when they ask how you got together?" Benjamin asked.

Deepak leaned forward on his forearm, and Veera smelled the whiff of aftershave and cologne. "We're going to tell everyone

that Veera was consulting for me on a project."

"What project?" Prem asked.

"Ethical lending," Deepak replied quickly.

Veera jerked in her seat and turned to look at him. "What?"

"It's the last big project you launched at Mathur Financial, right? You're an expert. We don't have ethical lending as a core

business service at Illyria Media Group, so why don't we say you're helping me launch a new initiative?"

Deepak remembered her passion project. But then again, he had always been incredibly attentive to anything business related.

"I can do that," she said slowly. "I don't know if I want to go into business for myself or go back and get a job yet, but

for our story, I think it works." She hoped she could have a part of her old life back, but her father had made sure that

was impossible. She just needed time, a little more time to decide. If she could hide away for a while and think about what

she wanted for herself, maybe she'd be able to start a business or work for someone who appreciated her.

"You still need a party," Prem said. "With open bar. And you should tell Kareena's aunties so they can spread the word."

"Send them your wedding pictures," Bobbi said. "They'll forward them on the WhatsApp information train so quickly that even Olivia will hear about it. Wherever she is."

"Oh, I don't know if telling the aunties is a good idea," Veera said. "Don't forget that I was the one who was responsible

for wrangling them when they wanted to interfere in your love lives. I know what kind of chaos they can create."

"It's not meddling," Bobbi replied. "It's just information sharing."

"Bobbi's right," Kareena said. "You need people to know about your marriage from a reliable source, not through speculation.

Everyone will pay attention to a WhatsApp text. More importantly, they'll disperse the news quickly if you make the message

a truly atrocious graphic with red italicized font." She opened a WhatsApp chat that was titled "Aunties" and held up an image.

The heading, in red italicized font, said Eat five almonds every morning to increase your IQ by fifteen points.

Bunty held up his phone. "Oh, I got that, too."

"Me, too," Prem added.

"Okay, I get your point," Veera said. "But what pictures would we even send?"

Deepak was already shoving his phone in front of her and scrolling through a dozen professionally shot images that they'd

staged at the resort. "This is exactly why I wanted the photos," he said. "Personally, this one is my favorite." He stopped

on a picture of both of them on the beach. They were holding hands while standing on a rocky platform that jutted out into

the water.

Her red-and-purple lehenga complemented the brilliant hues of the Goan sunset. Veera remembered the soft, weightless feel of the fabric as the wind and the waves billowed below her feet. She only wished she could have brought the lehenga home with her. They had borrowed the outfit from the designer who was still finishing it for a new collection because they couldn't find something off the rack, or as the designer called it, ready-made. Deepak, on the other hand, wore a tailored black suit with a tie that matched her outfit. They were laughing together, and she remembered the question he'd asked her to loosen her up.

What music video do you think we'd look good in right now? I think Enya.

Enya? Seriously? Some Punjabi folk song with a disco beat. The singer's head would be floating in the corner of the screen

while we posed like we were Jack and Rose in Titanic .

Now that was romance, she thought. Well, in a really twisted, messed-up kind of way.

"Kareena, I'm going to text this to you. Can you share the picture with some copy?" Deepak asked.

Kareena was already on her phone, tapping at her screen. "You got it," she said.

Deepak looked back at Veera; his voice lowered as he leaned closer to her side. "Okay with you?"

"Yeah," she said. "I guess... let's do it."

They ironed out a few more details for the reception, and for Deepak's meeting with the board on Monday.

When their eyes met every time Deepak asked her for her opinion, Veera had to work hard at reminding herself that he was just

protecting a lie, and it had nothing to do with her heart.

She looked down at her mehndi. The color was a dark burgundy now. There was a belief that the darker the mehndi was on the

bride, the more the husband loved her. Veera wondered what other traditions were full of shit.

As their friends talked over one another, planning a reception that was so overwhelming she wanted to crawl into a hole and

burrow like a gopher, she continued to twist her diamond ring and prayed that she was doing the right thing.