Page 169 of Glass Jawed
So last night... it felt like acleansing.
And when it ended, she just left. Quietly. Her eyes heavy with sleep. Or heartbreak. Maybe both.
I don’t know what it meant. Was it closure? Or the start of something new?
I shove the panic-ridden thought aside as we reach the courtyard—and get hit by a blinding wall of yellow.
Everyone’sin yellow. Kurtas, sarees, salwars. Except Liam, of course, who now looks like a monochrome outcast in adesifever dream.
There’s a stunning white gazebo near the center hall entrance, decked in white and yellow flowers. Underneath it, two massive shallow metal tubs with lotuses—where Vikram and Ishika sit, grinning as a priest chants rituals. A few bowls of yellow paste surround them—which I’m guessing is the turmeric paste.
I spot Ishika’s parents with them. And Vikram’s too. Then, instinctively, my eyes search the crowd for the only person I care about.
And there she is.
A vision in a soft yellow salwar suit that fits her waist like a damn melody. A delicate white flower crown sits in her hair, and those mirrored sunglasses reflect the world like she owns it.
God, she’s a masterpiece.
And I want to be her museum.
Yeah, I know how that sounds. Corny as hell. I don’t even know what I mean by it. But I don’t care. I just want herback. Entirely. Honestly.Undeniably.
But I don’t know where she stands. Not after last night.
She’s with her parents, Kashvi, and a few others—including Advik. My jaw tenses, but I force it to relax. He’s not even looking at her. He’s talking to Navya... and from the looks of it, notnicely.
Whatever. I have bigger priorities.
Liam and I weave through the crowd while upbeat Bollywood music pulses through the courtyard. A few people are dancing, some just swaying and laughing in the sun. A couple of kids nearly crash into me and I dodge them.
And then—I see her turn.
She finds me in the crowd like a magnet.
And for the first time in forever... shesmiles.
Not a hesitant, polite smile.
Not a tired, wary smile.
A full-on, radiant grin.
Like she sees me—andwantsme here.
My heart actually stutters.
Please, god, don’t take this from me.
Before Rohi can reach me, Kiki Aunty saunters over, beaming.
“Oh, you look so handsome,beta!” she says, her voice sugary sweet. I can’t help but grin—she’s genuinely one of the kindest people here. Always looking out for me like I’m one of her own.
“Raj!” she yells over the music, waving her husband over. “This is the embroidered pattern I was talking about!”
She brushes a hand over my chest where the design is stitched, and I chuckle. Uncle’s in a plain yellow kurta, and the way he eyes mine? Straight-up fashion envy.
And he’s not the only one.
