Chapter 22 Veera

Chapter 22 Veera

VEERA: I have a question but neither of you are allowed to read too much into it.

BOBBI: Okay, strong start. What's up?

KAREENA: I'm already reading into it.

VEERA: Just remember all the times I was so supportive of you two.

VEERA: Okay, say that a guy showed sexual interest and you have one sexy moment.

VEERA: Then you tell him you're interested, too, but it's not the right time.

VEERA: Then he does another sexy thing with you. After that, he totally stops sexy things and starts to romance you instead.

BOBBI: I think I'm following.

KAREENA: Deepak and you hooked up, then you told him you weren't ready. You hooked up one more time, and then you probably said something

to him that had him romancing you instead. And now you want to hook up again, but he hasn't made another move?

VEERA: He literally bought me a custom-designed wardrobe with matching shoes, jewelry, and handbags, took me to the greatest lecture

I've ever seen in my life, then pressed me up against the wall to kiss me once before he patted me on the ass and went to

bed.

KAREENA: Wow, I did not think Deepak had it in him.

BOBBI: Vee, if he hasn't made another move and you're both literally living together, maybe it's because he's waiting for you to

make it first? He's probably trying to respect your boundaries so living together doesn't become uncomfortable.

VEERA: Oh.

KAREENA: This is so much more fun when I'm not the one who's having a crisis.

***

VEERA: Hi! I have a favor.

BENJAMIN: Hi, hon. What can I help you with?

VEERA: Can you teach me how to cook something for Deepak?

BENJAMIN: No, sorry. But I can send you some food.

VEERA: What? Why can't you teach me? I want to learn how to do it myself.

BENJAMIN: Because I am a terrible teacher. I'll just get frustrated and snap at you. If I hurt your feelings, both my fiancée and Deepak

will kick my ass.

VEERA: Fine. I guess that's fair.

BENJAMIN: Sorry! I'll have one of my guys bring you some cake.

Deepak's kitchen was filled with the scent of frying mustard seeds and curry leaves, simmering onions and garlic, and boisterous

conversation in a mix of Hindi, Punjabi, and English. Meanwhile, Veera was doing the only thing that made sense to her and

was staying out of everyone's way. She'd perched on the edge of a counter stool at the island, a plate of half-eaten onion

pakora and ketchup at her elbow.

"That's the difference between stocks and bonds," she said. She was using a small whiteboard that she'd purchased to help

her brainstorm work projects. Because it was bigger than a piece of paper, Sonali Auntie didn't need glasses to see the diagrams

she drew.

The older woman tapped the word bond . "I like this," she said. "Can you help me, beta?"

"Of course," Veera said.

Sonali Auntie bobbled her head side to side. "You tell me how much you would like for me to pay you for your help, and I'll

send you the Venmo."

Veera smiled at her reference to the Venmo . "You don't have to pay me," Veera said. "You're already doing so much by teaching me how to cook." She motioned to the rest

of the women in the kitchen. "You're all doing so much for me."

She was met with a series of warm smiles. They had been so quick to respond to her text messages.

What they didn't know was that they were aiding her in her plan to seduce Deepak through his stomach.

She'd had enough restless nights, enough tossing and turning and solo orgasms when he was sleeping one floor below her. She

was definitely ready to make her move, and it was going to start with an ancient South Asian tool.

Food.

Veera had first wanted to learn how to make sheet pan nachos, which was some sort of magical steak nachos meal that Bunty

used to make Deepak when he stayed at the house on his visits east. But he'd completely shot her down and wanted to just send

her the food instead.

Thankfully, the aunties were willing and able to come to her rescue.

"Your business services are worth more than making sabji and roti, beta," her mother-in-law said with a smile. She wore an

apron that she'd produced from the bottom drawer of one of Deepak's cabinets. Apparently, it was her designated apron whenever

she came to visit.

"My daughter was always the sharpest when it came to money," her mother said to Sonali Auntie. "We gave Sona and Veera access to their trust funds at eighteen. The money that their father had invested for them when they were first born. It wasn't much, but Veera tripled the size of her trust fund in two years. Her advice is priceless."

Veera smiled at her mother's praise. She'd always been ready to give it, but Veera hadn't heard it in a while. "I'm good at

investing, but, Mom, remember how Sana tripled hers within eight months? Now that was impressive."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "And who has a larger portfolio now?"

It was without a doubt Veera. She was always the saver. "Sana likes to play the market. Big risk, big reward for her. But

at any given time, she can be worth more than I am."

Deepak's mother stood at the stove, ladle in hand. "My bahu, take the compliment when you receive it. It's good for you to

boast sometimes."

Farah Auntie was stuffing samosas at the end of the island and passing the cone to Mona Auntie to pinch closed. "You've always

been such a sweetheart," she said to Veera. "It's good for you to have some sharp edges."

"Confidence," Falguni Auntie said. "You just need a little bit more of it."

Veera rolled her eyes. "Just because I want to talk about my sister instead of talking about me doesn't mean I don't have

confidence. And being sweet isn't a bad thing. In fact, I think there need to be more sweet people in this world." She hated

that everyone thought that her nice qualities were hiding insecurities. She was confident.

In fact, she was so confident that she was going to finally master Indian cooking, make some damn food, and have her way with

her fake husband.

Her fake husband who was suspiciously starting to feel like a real one.

Sonali Auntie patted her arm. "That's right, beta. It's perfectly fine to be sweet."

The aunties and the moms looked at one another knowingly and continued to work on various dishes throughout the room.

"Now that you're done with your finance lesson, would you like to know how to finish making this sabji?" Deepak's mother asked.

"Oh," Veera said, as she hopped off the stool. "Yes, absolutely."

She rounded the island and washed her hands at the sink before she stepped between her mother and her mother-in-law.

Her mother-in-law by religious ceremony only.

"I'm just so glad that you've taken an interest in cooking," her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. "I tried to teach

you as a child, but all you wanted to do was put your nose in a book." She nudged Veera's shoulder, her smile bright.

"We've been ordering quite a bit of takeout lately, and—"

"Hai, hai," Mona Auntie tsked. She stood at Deepak's kitchen counter, and rolled a small ball of dough between her palms and

then pressed it on top of a small marble slab before rolling it out with a rolling pin. "One of the greatest joys that we

have as family is to be able to feed our partners. To nourish our children."

"Think of it as an extension of breast milk," Falguni Auntie said. Your children need food to survive and your husband needs—"

"That's a clear enough visual!" Veera shouted, her hands up in surrender. "I don't need you to finish that sentence, Auntie."

The older women in her kitchen looked at one another and laughed. She did not care if she missed the inside joke.

"Aunties and Moms, I can sustain my family in other ways," Veera continued, "but I understand. There is something nice about watching someone you . . . care about, enjoying the food that you make."

"You have a sabji recipe now, and you know how to make roti dough," her mother said. "Focus on getting very good at those

things, and then slowly, slowly add recipes to your repertoire."

"Okay, I can do that," Veera said. She took the spoon from her mother-in-law and made mental notes about the texture and color

of the spinach and paneer.

"I never got to tell you, Veera, but your reception dinner was so nice," Farah Auntie said. She showed her how to properly

fill a folded cone for a samosa as she spoke.

"It's so nice seeing my son happy," Deepak's mother said, and she wrapped an arm around Veera's shoulders and squeezed. Her

touch was warm and comforting. Supportive. "You know, Deepak's father and I urged him to purchase the town house. When he

was looking for a place to live after college, we wanted him to think about finding a location he could grow into. And now,

here you are! He looks at you like you're his whole world. Just the way that he should."

"I just wish that your romance would've blossomed a year ago," Veera's mother said, as she cut into a red onion. She sniffled.

"Then maybe you wouldn't have left..."

The kitchen descended into a deeply uncomfortable silence. Veera shook her head at her mother. Everyone knew that her father

wouldn't have changed a damn thing if Deepak and Veera had been romantically involved a year ago. If anything, he'd be more

insistent on letting her go. Because in his mind, women couldn't lead his company. They were responsible for the home.

Scratch that. He didn't think she could lead the company. Sana had met his qualifications.

As if reading her thoughts, Farah Auntie was the first to speak. "Malkit is a damn fool."

There was a snort, then someone laughed, and a series of giggles echoed in the kitchen.

"I can't argue with that," Veera's mother said. "I've had to keep out of his business; otherwise, I would've lost my daughters,

too."

"I think you should've gotten involved," Veera said. Every woman in the room turned to look at her. She smiled brightly and

then held up the spoon she'd been using for the saag paneer. "What, did I say something wrong? Mom knows."

Sonali Auntie shook her head. "You're married now, beta. It's important for you to realize that your business is separate

from your husband's business."

"No," she said. On any other occasion, she wouldn't have pushed back, wouldn't have argued, and would have let them believe

whatever they wanted to, but she was living in this house, and she had a right to voice her opinion here. Deepak would agree

with her, too, would support her in correcting these misguided beliefs.

"My husband and I are a team, and the only reason I know that is because all of you raised us to believe that we have the

power to be an equal in marriage and life. You can't teach me how to be strong, and then tell me that I'm supposed to hold

back once I'm ready to use my strength."

Mona Auntie spoke first. "Yes, but—"

Veera shook the spoon and splattered paneer on the beautiful French designer range. "No buts," she said. "You take on the whole Desi community if you want to, but when it comes to Punjabi men, all of a sudden you have to control yourself and keep out of their business? I don't think that's fair, do you? If the uncles screwed up, Mom, if Dad screwed up in business or in our family, you'd have every right to tell him so."

Veera couldn't believe that after all the chatter, they were so silent now. They stared at her as if she had started speaking

French. Not a single one of them moved.

That's when she realized that they didn't understand a word of what she'd said. They couldn't see for a second how important

their words of wisdom had been to her and her friends when she was a child, and how painful their rebukes had been in their

adulthood.

"You need to practice your rotis," her mother said, breaking the silence.

"The key to a happy marriage is round rotis," her mother-in-law added with a nod.

Veera sighed. She realized that anything else she'd say would only sound like a lecture, and they were only trying to help

her. Some battles had to take place over time.

Like a hundred-year war.

"Thank you for helping me," she replied.

Grateful that even though the aunties and her mother didn't see it, they had given her so much more than the ability to make

a damn roti.