Page 4 of The Defiant Wife

The exact moment my life took a turn for the worse.

"If the goal is improving public image," he had said, "why don't we have Veeraj work with one of our partner NGOs?"

I remember staring at him. Then staring some more. I was certain I had misunderstood. I hadn't. The board loved it.Absolutelyloved it.Something about community involvement.

Human connection. Visibility. Relatability. The kind of words PR teams worship. And because every person in that room suddenly seemed convinced it was brilliant, I had found myself severely outnumbered.

Igroan, rubbing my hand against my face,"This is absurd."

"It's one month."

"It's thirty-one days."

Vihaan rolls his eyes."You sound like you're being sentenced."

"I am being sentenced."

I glance between them.

My brothers. My family. The people responsible for this disaster.

And despite my irritation, despite the headache forming behind my eyes, despite the fact that I fully intend to complain about this for the foreseeable future—I know they're not trying to make my life difficult.

Well.

Bhai sa isn't. Vihaan absolutely is. But beneath the teasing, beneath the frustration, beneath the endless interference in mybusiness, they've always wanted what's best for me. Which is annoying. Because it makes it difficult to stay angry.

I rise from my chair.

"Where are you going?" Vihaan asks.

"To prepare for my month of suffering."

"It's an NGO, not a prison."

I pause at the door and look back. "Debatable." Bhai sa laughs again, I had hardly seen him do that, until bhabhi sa happened, that is and now after the birth of his daughter . . . it's safe to say he's a huge softie.

Vihaan throws a paperclip at me.

I catch it without looking.

Then I leave before either of them can come up with another brilliant idea that ruins the rest of my year.

The door clicks shut behind me.

The hallway is quiet. Exactly how I like things. I loosen my tie slightly as I walk toward my office.

One month.

Thirty-one days.

An NGO.

Children, probably. Volunteers. People. Too many people.

The thought alone makes me tired.

Still, the decision has already been made. The board got what they wanted. My brothers got what they wanted. And apparently public perception now requires my personal involvement.