Page 51 of Forged By Fate

I knew she was lying. I knew she was lashing out at me because I had refused to be her meal ticket in life. But some inner wounds refused to heal, no matter how irrational they were.

My father had done his best to protect me from my stepmother, and I had always felt that’s why his heart gave out so early. It was because he couldn’t deal with the constant fighting and yelling at home anymore. I had blamed myself for not beingdutiful enough, even though Daya Bua had maintained that my father was proud of me until the day he died.

She and Sufi could say what they liked, but I knew there was something completely unloveable about me. That’s why I had nobody in the world to love me. Not in the way that really counted. Even Daya Bua, Sufi and Aisha could vanish if my relationship with Viren ended badly.

As I stared at the ugliness hiding behind my stepmother’s guileless eyes, I wondered why she hated me so much. I had only ever tried to please her. But I never could. I was never enough for her. Well, that hadn’t changed, apparently. I wasn’t even good enough for my husband, which was why he couldn’t wait to divorce me.

And then I remembered that he was taking me out on a date tonight. That had to count for something. It had to mean something good.

I gave my stepmother a thin smile and walked past her without reacting to the venom she had just spouted. The security guard gave me a quick salute and held the door open for me. I felt a strange safety and warmth when I walked into that building. And I knew it was because I was under Viren’s protection in every way. He might not love me, but he cared for me. A lot. And for now, I was content with just that.

It was quite late when we finished the recording. Again, I managed to shoot a lot of content and posted a teaser with the promise of the full video to come soon. The band had booked Tarana for a gig at Hard Rock that weekend, and I promised to take her shopping for clothes.

“A ripped and faded pair of jeans paired with a brocade waistcoat,” suggested Perpetua.

I thought about it for a while and then shook my head.

“Let’s do a brocade crop top with a short black pleated skirt paired with black combat boots with contrasting sequins. I’ll getSufi to help us glue sequins on a pair of combat boots once he helps us source the clothes,” I said. “And if we can get a darzi to stitch a pair of matching brocade elbow-length fingerless gloves, that would be the perfect touch of madness. If we can’t get the gloves, we’ll find you a big stack of brocade-covered bangles for each hand.”

“Ooh…girly and punk at the same time! I love it,” exclaimed Perpetua, who was the most punk woman I had ever seen.

“But where can we find such clothes and accessories?” asked Tarana, looking completely out of her depth.

“Sufi hassources,” I proclaimed happily. “He has some mad-talented friends, trust me. And he has some of the country’s best designers and stylists on speed dial. They’ll be falling over themselves to dress you, babe.”

When I got home, Sufi and Aisha were waiting for me, almost hopping with excitement.

“It’s our first date,” they yelled in unison as soon as I walked in the front door.

“Umm…it’smyfirst date. So please take a chill pill, people,” I said, with a hard eye roll.

“Babe, we’re all so invested in this relationship that we will need extensive therapy with dolls to resolve all that trauma,” said my favourite drama queen.

“Yeah, I don’t need any more therapy, Aunty Sue. So please make this date work,” begged Aisha.

Oy, so much pressure already! And I wasn’t even dressed for my date.

Sufi had set out a high-neck, pleated dress in a dark purple with three-fourth-length sleeves. It didn’t look like much on the hanger, but when I wore it, it looked like a million bucks, especially when I turned around and saw that the back dipped almost to the waist. I paired it with a pair of gold-flecked purple bondage heels just because.

Viren’s eyes darkened with desire when he saw those heels, and I was worried he was going to cancel the date and carry me off to bed. Luckily, Aisha came downstairs just then to say goodnight, and the moment passed.

I slid into the car, being very careful not to flash anyone before I turned to him.

“Where are we going?” I asked, and Viren grinned in reply.

“That’s a surprise,” he said, refusing to reveal anything else.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at a sea-facing bungalow in Juhu. But we skipped the front door and took the narrow path that led around the house and down to the beach.

“Whose house is this?” I asked.

“A friend’s house. He lives in the US, and very kindly allowed me to borrow it tonight.”

“But why?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a laugh. “You might have to take your shoes off, though.”

He led me down to a private stretch of Juhu beach, cut off from the crowds by a large fence on both sides. There was a romantic table for two set up in the sand, with flowers and citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes away, and rose petals scattered all around it.

---