"Woah!"
Kaustami's stunned expression reflects my own as we exit the airport. The early February breeze plays with my hair, wrapping around me like an overly enthusiastic host. Along with it comes a scent that hits me like a punch to the stomach.
Growing up in Punjab, I am no stranger to dramatic welcomes-loud dhol beats, bone-crushing hugs, and crowds clamoring with joy-but this?
This is beyond dramatic!
"Bhai really, really went all out," Kaustami breathes, her eyes twinkling with the kind of awe and excitement only a child with a new Marvel toy can muster.
"Eee! My followers are gonna love this!" she squeals, practically tripping over herself as she fumbles with her backpack. In less than a second, her phone is out, and she is filming the extravagance unfolding before us like it's some exclusive red carpet premiere.
"Keep me out of the frame. I look like a hound," I grumble, stepping to the side, my arms crossed protectively over my body.
She doesn't even spare me a glance, too consumed capturing things her million or so followers will gush over.
The breakup, the scandal, and everything that follows has taken a toll on me. And by toll, I mean they've run me over, backed up, and flattened me again for good measure.
Gone is the flawless girl with glowing skin, perfectly arched eyebrows, and flowing, butt-length hair that once made heads turn. Standing here now, outside Sri Guru Ram Das Ji International Airport, is a five-foot-three mess ball.
Round tummy, hollow eyes, dark circles so deep they look like they have their own zip code, and sweaty, sticky hair tied back in the world's saddest excuse for a bun.
If he could see me now, he'd probably-
No.
I push the thought out of my head.
"You're not even paying attention! At least try to smile!" Kaustami groans, spinning around to pout at me, her phone still held at the perfect angle to capture every detail of the spectacle.
"I don't see anything worth my smile," I reply flatly, my tone as lifeless as my reflection these days.
"You're kidding me!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You don't think this deserves a smile? What a prude, Di!"
I roll my eyes, but my gaze betrays me, drifting toward the red carpet stretching out before us like a royal runway.
Its plush crimson fabric practically sparkles under the winter sunlight, leading to a gleaming white Rolls Royce parked at the end. The chauffeur, dressed in a three-piece tuxedo sharper than any suit I've ever seen, stands by the open door with a smile so polished it rivals the car.
Even he looks better put together than me!
I avert my eyes, unable to meet his courteous gaze. Shame creeps up my neck like a burning scarf. What have I stopped taking care of myself for? And why does it hurt so much now, when it hasn't for the past three years?
I'm not given much time to dwell though.
It starts faintly, almost drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the airport. But then, as if the universe turns a dial, the rhythm swells, filling the air and drowning out every other sound.
"Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham?" Kaustami gasps. "Oh My God!" She beams as her camera pans over the musicians lining either side of the red carpet.
And then the drone appears.
It swoops low, showering us with flower petals like we are queens of some forgotten empire.
Before I can blink, two young girls come running toward us dressed in brightly colored lehengas that swish with every step.
"To the queen who conquers but knows how to bow," one of the girls chirps, smiling wide enough to light up the grayest sky.
Despite myself, I melt a little.
"You're adorable." I pinch her cheeks as I bend slightly, letting her drape a garland of freshly plucked tuberoses around my neck. Its heady fragrance clings to the air-possessive. Overpowering. Nostalgic.
The second girl follows, placing an identical garland over Kaustami's shoulders before handing her a bouquet of white roses.
A single red rose nestles in the center of hers, bold and unyielding against the pristine white petals.
Mine, on the other hand, is a Juliet rose bouquet so perfect it looks like it has been stolen straight out of a Disney movie.
Kaustami breathes in, clutching her bouquet to her chest like a sacred relic. "Thank you, my lady," she says, curtseying and playing along with an exaggerated grin.
The taller girl, who has handed her the bouquet, gives a polite bow. "Allow me," she says, taking Kaustami's phone with practiced elegance.
"Awe, thank you! I feel like a real Disney princess!" Kaustami squeals, twirling on her toes. Her dress catches the breeze like she is the main character in an over-the-top musical.
"From now on, Bhai is officially my favorite sibling!" she declares, laughing as if she's never been happier.
I glare at her.
"You're such a cheap steal. A couple of flowers and a red carpet, and that's all it takes?"
"Yes! A red carpet, a Rolls Royce, musicians, cute little girls, flower petals raining from the sky-it's perfect. Though..." She pauses, inhaling a big drag of the flowers. "It would've been really perfect if the bouquet was made of chocolate. But hey, the flower shower makes up for it!"
I narrow my eyes at her. "And you seriously think Bhai could come up with this?"
Her laughter falters slightly. "Well, yeah...why not?"
I know why not.
I know Vikrant Singh Chandel better than anyone else in the world. He doesn't do luxury. He can't come up with something like this. His idea of a grand gesture stops at loud and earthy-dhols pounding, a sea of familiar faces, and hugs so fierce they leave you breathless.
At most, he'd feed you a dibba of Motichoor ladoo.
This isn't him. This can't be. Terrified as it may sound, I just know who it can be.
Every single gesture screams of him! The master manipulator! Only one person I know knows exactly how to weave a scene so captivating you don't realize you're tangled in his strings until it's too late.
Kaustami skips ahead, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my head. She stops in front of a gilded message board near the Rolls Royce, her face lighting up as she reads the inscription aloud.
"We missed you. Life hasn't been the same without the two of you in sight."
Her excitement bubbles over as she spins around, clutching her bouquet tightly. "Nobody's has ever made me feel so special. Not even Santiago. Today is the best day of my life!"
She is inches away from stepping inside the car. The chauffeur is still holding the door open with a polite and steady smile. But something inside me is screaming-a blaring red siren that won't let me look away, no marry how hard I try convincing myself.
This could be a trap-like everything else has been here so far.
"Kaustami, wait!" I call out, my voice sharper than I intended, cutting through the cold air like a whip.
Kaustami freezes mid-step. Her hand still hovers near the car door as she turns back to me. Her brows furrow. Confusion and alarm contour her face as her eyes lock onto mine.
I tighten my grip on the bouquet letting its thorns bite into my palm before I breathe what has been nagging me all this while.
"This isn't our car," I point at the gleaming Rolls Royce. "We don't own a Rolls Royce."
My words make her falter. Her steps retreat instinctively, and the cheerful spark in her eyes dims while the smile vanishes from her lips.
"Yeah." She stares at the roses with clenched jaws, piecing the pieces together. "I didn't notice."
"You," she deadpans moments after, pointing at the chauffeur. Her tone carries that same protective edge I have seen only in private moments, the kind she rarely shows the world.
"Who sent you?"
The chauffeur straightens his posture, slightly taken aback by the confrontation. "Ma'am, we are The Memory Fairy," he begins steadily as if calculating his words before letting them roll over. "Our agency specializes in creating exquisite experiences. Vikrant Sir hired our services last night. The car is part of the package, as is everything else."
Kaustami shoots me a look, the kind that asks the question neither of us wants to say aloud: Does this make sense?
His explanation sounds reasonable enough, but it just doesn't sit right with me.
"Why would Bhai hire an agency?" Kaustami murmurs. "When at least twenty of his boys are probably smoking cigars in the Haveli compound right now? Wouldn't he have sent his chamchas to bring his sisters home?"
"Or Papa?" I nod faintly, still trying to make sense of it all.
"You," she snaps, spinning toward the girl in the red saree who is still holding her phone. "Give me back my phone. Now."
The girl doesn't hesitate. She hands over the phone with a quick, polite bow.
"What are we going to do?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"Inquire with Bhai," she says with a shrug.
"Wait!" I grab her arm, my voice dropping to a whisper, sharp yet pleading. "Do it casually. I don't want him to think we're ungrateful or doubting his efforts."
Kaustami nods while my eyes flicker over the crowd, scanning the sea of strangers. The random faces marvel at the spectacle-the red carpet, the flower shower, the Rolls Royce-but all I can see is the mockery they might carry if they knew.
My cheeks flush crimson, a telltale heat creeping up my neck. Memories surge forward unbidden. The faces are different now, but in my mind, they blur into the same ones that had hounded me before-laughing, whispering, snickering.
The scandal. The shame.
I swallow hard, forcing the bitterness back down where it belongs.
"Di?" Kaustami's voice pulls me back, her brows furrowing as she studies my face. Her hand tightens around the bouquet like she's bracing for something.
I quickly avert my gaze, plastering on a neutral expression that I know she won't ever buy. "Just... be careful with how you ask him," I murmur, keeping my tone steady even though my insides churn.
She hesitates, her own unease flashing briefly before she nods.
"Fine," she replies, dialing Bhai's number and putting the phone on speaker.
It only rings once before his voice comes through, familiar and warm.
"Hello, Choti? Did you land safely?"
"Yes, Bhai!" Kaustami responds. "We just arrived, and oh my God, the welcome is absolutely stunning. I just told Di, you're my favorite sibling from now on. The agency idea is so impressive!"
There is a pause as we wait for him to respond with a hitched breath.
A second passes and then another. There is a slight shuffling on the other side before Bhai's voice booms again.
"Really? It was Sneha's idea. I wasn't sure they could pull off something this elaborate in such a short time. Papa and I wanted to pick you both up ourselves, but the Party meeting couldn't wait. Minister Sir is here, and we had to discuss the campaign."
Sneha. Of course.
"Please ride back home," he continues. "I'll meet you both there as soon as I'm free."
"No worries, Bhai!" I interject quickly, cutting in before Kaustami can grill him further. "And thank you for being so thoughtful. We'll see you soon."
"Thanks and regards to Sneha," Bhai's PA's voice rings faintly in the background, and both Kaustami and I stifle giggles.
"Can't wait to meet you both," Vikrant adds before hanging up.
"It is Bhai!" Kaustami exhales as she switches back to her usual cheerfulness. She doesn't wait a second more before jumping into the car. "I can't wait to see what's waiting for us back home!"
Her excitement bubbles over as I slide in next to her, but the tight knot in my stomach refuses to unravel.
The chauffeur adjusts the rearview mirror and starts the car.
In less than a minute, we mingle with the chaos of the city streets.
The sights and sounds of Amritsar hit me like a tidal wave. The bustling stores, the traffic chaos, the street food, the loud guffaws, and the cacophony of voices-all flood my senses with a wave of nostalgia so strong that it leaves me breathless.
"I missed this mess," Kaustami sighs, setting her phone in the holder as she gazes out the window. "No beaches, no fancy Maltese villas, no gourmet dishes. Nothing feels like home. India is India."
I manage a faint smile, still battling with my instincts.
"So, Mr. Chauffeur," Kaustami begins brightly, breaking the silence, "what else does The Memory Fairy offer?"
The man glances at us through the rearview mirror. "Meet Khurrana, at your service, Ma'am. We specialize in making moments unforgettable. Homecomings, proposals, farewell parties, birthdays, anniversaries-anything you want to turn into a memory."
"Wow, sort of unique," Kaustami muses.
I nod absently, my focus drifting back to the road ahead. Something is off. I feel it in my chest before my eyes catch it.
"Hey, this isn't the way to the Haveli," I say sharply, leaning forward. "You missed the cut."
Kaustami flinches as she peers out at the unfamiliar road.
"It's fine," she says after a pause. "We can get there from here too." Her words try to soothe me, but the unease simmering in her wide eyes betrays her. She isn't buying it either.
"The main road is under construction," Meet explains. "The route is diverted, but don't worry. This one will take you to the Haveli just the same."
His explanation sits on the surface like a polished lie, reasonable enough to sound believable, but doing nothing to quiet the roaring alarms in my head.
Because I know where this road leads.
And soon enough, the faint outlines materialize on the horizon, growing clearer with every second.
My breath hitches. Garuda and Sampati!
My stomach twists violently as memories slam in with unbearable force.
"Wait," I snap, my voice cracking. "You're going the wrong way. Turn the car around!"
"Relax, Di." Kaustami tries to reassure me, but her voice wavers. "He's just taking the longer route because of the construction-"
"No, Kaustami!" I shoot back. My hand grips her arm tightly as desperation creeps into my tone. "This isn't a route; this is a mistake!"
Her expression shifts instantly. "Meet!" she shouts at the driver. "What's going on? Where are we heading?"
Meet doesn't even flinch. "Ma'am, it's just the route. We'll be there shortly," he says unnervingly steady.
"No, turn around!" Kaustami demands.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we're almost there," Meet replies calmly.
"Stop the car!" I echo her words. My nails dig into the edge of my seat.
But the car doesn't stop.
Instead, the engine growls as Meet turns sharply into the driveway. The gates of Garuda open before us like the maw of a beast, swallowing us whole.
"NO!" Kaustami screams, clutching my arm.
Her bouquet tumbles to the floor as the car rolls deeper into the driveway. The phone holder rattles, and she reaches for her device with trembling hands.
"Bhai! I'm calling Bhai! Please... breathe in and out," she says hurriedly. But her frantic tapping yields nothing.
"What the-" she gasps, looking at her screen. "Di, my phone isn't working."
I grab mine, but the screen doesn't light up no matter how many times I press the power button. A cold shiver runs down my spine.
"It's a network jammer," I whisper as realization dawns upon me. Just then, the car comes to a smooth stop, right at the grand entrance of Garuda.
Kaustami and I sit frozen as the door clicks open. Meet steps out. His demeanor flips one-eighty. The charming, polite smile is replaced by an intimidating grin.
"Welcome, Ma'am," he scoffs. "Allow me." He bows, opening my side of the door.
But I can't move. My mind is screaming, my instincts warring between flight and freeze.
Kaustami's voice breaks the suffocating silence. "Di... what is this place? What's happening?"
I don't answer. I can't. My thoughts are a mess. All I can think of is: "I'm not ready."
Not to face Garuda. Not to face the memories waiting inside. Not to face him!
*****
Not sure if it's making your breath hitch like it did mine while penning it down, but I would give a kidney to listen to the emotions it resonated with you.
What did you like? What you didn't? How eager are you to meet the CM Akaay? What are your thoughts so far?
Please open your arms and hearts and spread love as much as you can! Reaching out to the readers directly is one of the primary reasons for putting it on Wattpad while writing so we can bring desired changes during editing.
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Until Tomorrow,
EK>