Page 139 of The Redemption
“Oh my God!” she gasps, clutching her chest and giving me a mock glare. “Siya! You literally scared me to death.”
“Sorry,” I say immediately, trying not to laugh.
“No, seriously,” she mutters, shutting the refrigerator door halfway. “Thank God it’s you. For one second, I thought it was either Ayaan or Raghav.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “And what would have happened if it was them?”
Meher narrows her eyes at me as if I’ve just asked the world’s stupidest question. “They would’ve stopped me from committing this crime.”
“Crime?” I repeat, confused.
She sighs tragically, leans closer, and whispers conspiratorially, “Eating chocolate truffle pastry.”
I blink. “That’s the crime?”
“You have no idea,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, my husband and yours are both convinced that sugar is poison for pregnant women.”
Despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitch at her words. “They’ve practically banned every enjoyable thing from my diet,” she grumbles. “Ice cream gone. Pastries gone. Chocolate mousse gone. Even the Nutella disappeared mysteriously.”
“You make it sound like a mafia raid.”
“It was a mafia raid,” she declares with a huff. “Doctor’s orders. Also, my overprotective husband and equallyoverprotective brother-in-law are a deadly combination. I’m carrying this family’s heirs and still living such a deprived life.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it as Meher finally shuts the refrigerator door in disappointment.
“I knew I wouldn’t find anything here either,” she mutters. “Raghav barely touches anything sweet, so expecting to find chocolate pastry here was probably wishful thinking. Still, I thought I’d check just in case,” she sighs.
I smile, but then her expression softens slightly.
“I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now,” she says honestly, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “If Ayaan had married me like this without my consent, I would’ve probably smashed his head with a flower vase.”
I snort softly.
“I’m serious,” she insists. “I can tolerate a lot of things. But forced control? No chance.”
Then, suddenly, she pauses before muttering under her breath, “Although, technically, Ayaan didn’t exactly marry me like some saint either.”
I look at her. “What do you mean?”
Meher lets out another dramatic sigh. “He didn’t blackmail me. But he did blackmail my father.”
I blink. “What?”
“Oh yes,” she replies proudly. “Just imagine it. The Director of GLEN himself threatened my father’s political career so badly that my dad practically pushed me into marriage, despite being frenemies with Kailash Paapa.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were.”
For a couple of seconds, we simply stare at each other before I blurt out, connecting the dots.
“These brothers seriously can’t get married without blackmailing somebody, can they?” I mutter.
Meher bursts out laughing.
“I swear! Emotional manipulation clearly comes pre-installed in both of them.”
This time, both of us laugh together. For the first time since this disaster marriage, some of the heaviness inside my chest loosens slightly.
