Chapter 14 : Something just changed between us

"B-U-Z-Z, that would be 3+1+10+10, 24. Ha! I crossed your score Dr. Sharma!" I exclaim arranging the tiles neatly on the board.

We have been playing scrabble for a good hour now, the board almost completely filled. Our scores have been going neck to neck since the beginning, but Abhay has been in the lead for the last ten minutes. As much as I love the guy, I'd definitely like to win the game. I've always been competitive like that. And I do win most times, but I've learnt that Abhay is crazy good at board games, and I've been losing a lot lately.

With my newly earned 24 points I'm leading with a good 13 points now.

The hope and triumph slowly bubbling in me fizzles out as soon as a I detect a smile slowly taking shape on his face, and just like that I know that I'm losing again. His face says it all. The face holding an all too familiar expression which clearly reads 'Sweetheart, you are adorable, but I'm going to crush your hopes. I'm sorry. I love you'. And I can't even throw a tantrum, because he is so pleasant about it. It's just so natural for him to be good at games, and he doesn't even gloat or tease.

With the smile still intact on his face he takes two tiles from his stand and places them gently beside the ones I just placed. E and R. Buzzer. That will be 3+1+10+10+1+1. 26! And just like that he moved 13 points up! My lips involuntarily form a pout.

"Oh come on!" I whine no longer needing to be composed around him. He is Abhay, my boyfriend, and I can just be myself, and he'll love me all the same, and the same goes for me. I don't even bother dressing up every time I meet him, like I was doing for the first few months, anymore. It's just so simple and easy and happy being with him. But right about now, I'd like to show my displeasure at losing another game.

My dear boyfriend just shrugs with a smile, "my turn to ask the question," he states.

You see, a while back, when watching a movie, I realised that I know Abhay pretty well, I mean I know his personality, thought process, his childhood memories, his goals and aspirations, but I missed getting to know the little things, that makes him him. Like favorite color, food etc. So, everytime we play these games, the person with better score after every round gets to ask the other person a question. It's like twenty questions, just a little spiced up.

"No! This doesn't work anymore, I made the rules so we could both get to know each other, and you are the only one asking questions! Today, I'll do all the asking. You practically know everything there is to know about me already," I state, still a little miffed about loosing again.

"Okay then," he says, still smiling amusedly as he starts clearing away the tiles, "ask anything you want to know," he declares.

Just like that, all the questions I've thought of asking starts circling around in my head, all thoughts of my loss having left my mind.

Ever since this idea came to me, the questions seem to be popping into my mind at random times and places. Just yesterday, I was in the wholesale market, when I saw a beach dress, and I immediately made a mental note to ask Abhay if he liked beaches or the hill station. Turns out he liked beaches, while I was a total hill station fan.

Ah! So many questions to ask! I get pretty excited and adjust myself into a more comfortable position on the floor, and lean my back against the sofa, ready for a round of heart to heart. Abhay mimics my actions on the other side of the coffee table, the scrabble neatly packed away into its box on top of it.

"Okay, I've been wondering this for a while, except for carbonated drinks and mushrooms, you've never not liked any other food item in particular, at least not the ones I've made. Do you have a favorite food and one you don't like?" I ask him, already imagining surprising him with all his favorites once.

"Hmm," he ponders over his answer for a while, while I look on curiously. His brows are slightly drawn together, and he involuntarily bites his lip. He is sitting on the floor, leaning his back against my bright orange recliner, which has dozens of fabric thrown on it. I was working on a dress, when my dear boyfriend showed up with take out on my door step. He is only wearing a well worn T-shirt, with sweat pants, much like myself. He looks completely at home.

As I look at him with affection, I realise that these are the moments I cherish the most, the way we can both be just ourselves, in baggy clothes and unkempt hair, and feel happily content. These are the moments that makes us the end game.

It's been a month since Abhay got back after celebrating Diwali with his family. We've almost been dating for three months. Though we've run out of childhood anecdotes to exchange, and have gotten past the jittery nervousness and excitement of a new relationship, my love for him, my attraction towards him, or the want to spend as much time with him as possible has only managed to increase.

We have now transcended to the stage of comfortable silences and unspoken meanings.

We have been on a few more dates this month, and we even went to friends friday hangout together as a couple. That was a fun night, and both of us managed to escape unscathed. There was a lot of teasing, cheering and prodding involved, but as usual Abhay took it all in stride, albeit a bit embarrassed, with a smile on his face. Poor guy even received a few snide remarks from Deepak. Over all my friends were super supportive and I couldn't be happier.

"So, you know that I love everything you make for me, no doubt about that," he starts answering my question, brining me back to the present. His face suddenly takes a sheepish look, and he adds "though I might sound like a mama's boy, the drumstick rasam, or pumpkin sambar my mom makes, with hot rice is my go to comfort food. I can eat those without complaint any day, everyday." His expression shows how much he loves and misses his home. His family means a lot to him, and I'd damn well try my best to be the daughter in law they could want for.

"As for the not liking part, though I suck it up and eat all the veggies, I really don't fancy peas," he says with a shrug. Okay, mental note made, no more peas unless necessary.

"Ok doc, got it, next questi..," I begin, but he cuts me off, "Wait, I'll answer all your questions, but first tell me how ballet went? I've been meaning to ask all night," he questions looking pretty excited on my behalf.

My mood sours slightly at the reminder of my impractical over enthusiasm. "I cancelled the lessons. You were right. I couldn't handle everything, I was already sore from bharatnatyam. Sometimes I get too excited that I don't think rationally. Maybe one dance form is all I'll learn in this life," I mutter slightly dejected. I've always loved ballet, it is so elegant, but I love my culture more. So the choice was obvious.

"Hey, don't be discouraged. Wanting to learn is never a bad thing, but taking care of oneself is more important. I'm sorry that you had to cancel, but I'm glad that you are giving yourself a break, and if not today, maybe you'll get to learn ballet someday. You have a whole life ahead of you, we have a whole life ahead of us. Knowing you, I'm sure I'll get to see you dance both bharatnatyam and ballet someday," my amazing boyfriend reassures. See, I told you, he knows the perfect things to say.

Before I can express my gratitude and affection for his amazing pep talk, my work phone blares loudly, startling us. I look at the clock. It reads 10:23 pm. It's late.

I reluctantly get up from my cozy perch on the carpet and retrieve the blaring device from my desk. Unknown number. I press answer and put it to my ear, "Dia Dutta speaking, how can I help you?"

The person on the other end is silent for a few seconds, before a feminine voice I don't recognise answers, "Hello Dia, I'm Naina Sahani. I came across a dress you designed on Instagram, and I really.. " before the woman on the other side go any further, I interrupt her.

"Wait, wait. Did you just say Naina Sahani? As in The Naina Sahani, the bollywood actress?" I question, already sceptical of the caller.

"Yes Dia, I'm Naina Sahani the Bollywood actress," the woman tells me. Is she for real? Why would a Bollywood actress call me? Is this a prank? Of course it is!

With that self assurance in mind I reply, my voice coated in sarcasm, "really? I'm not Dia Dutta either, I'm Aishwarya Rai," with that I disconnect the call with a scoff.

"Who was it?" Abhay asks me, from where he is now seated on the three seater couch. I join him on the couch, phone still in hand, and get comfortable nestling into his side, my head on his shoulder.

"Just some woman claiming to be Naina Sahani, as if a Bollywood A-lister would call me out of the blue," I scoff again.

"Really? What did she want?" he asks, confused himself. "I don't know, she was saying something about a dress on Instagram, I didn't really let her talk," I shrug, not really giving the whole deal a second thought, but Abhay clearly has other ideas.

He is silent for a few moments, his face focused in thought. "What if she really is Naina Sahani? Maybe she likes the dresses you design, maybe she wants you to design her something. Why don't you hear her out? If you still don't believe her, you can move on, but you wouldn't want to miss out an opportunity based on an assumption now, right?" he suggests. God! He is right, he always is. I myself am curious now.

But a little caution first, I open my laptop and type Naina Sahani in the search engine. Before I could read past the 28 year old's bio, my phone rings again. The same number! I click on the 'news' option under Sahani's name, and answer the call at the same time.

"Check your Instagram, now!" the same female voice all but orders. I frown at her tone, but do what she asks nonetheless, I put the call on speaker and open my professional Instagram page, the one I have to only advertise my work. I can feel Abhay watching my every move curiously.

My eyes widen as soon as I see the notification I just received. On the top of the page are the words 'naina_sahani started following you'. Wow! Just wow! I silently turn my screen towards Abhay, to see his equally surprised reaction.

"Oh Wow! It really is Naina Sahani," I say in a small voice before clearing my throat, "Thanks for clarifying that Ms. Sahani. I hope you can understand my apprehension, what with all kinds of cyber scams happening around. Anyway, how can I help you?" I ask the starlet, while my eyes falls on the laptop screen still opened to the search of Naina Sahani news, where the first headline read 'Bollywood diva breaks out into a fight with The designer of Bollywood'.

I click on the link. While her voice, now slightly recognisable after I've put a name to the voice says on the other line, "As I was saying earlier, I came across a dress you designed, I really like it, and I want to buy it," she states. While the article in front of me tells me about the huge fight she had with her designer, the most famous one in Bollywood of course, over the dress she was supposed to wear to the annual Indian Cinema Accolades, ICA gala, which unfortunately for her is in less than five days. Okay, so she is desperate, and she most probably is doing this to insult her designer. Wearing my dress would be her way of saying, 'an unknown small time Instagram designer designs better than you'.

I'm not saying that my dresses couldn't be better than his, but most actors and actresses value the label and brand more than the clothing itself. It doesn't matter if it's a trash bag, as long as it is a designer label trash bag.

"Okay miss Sahani, which dress of mine would you like to buy?" I ask, already having a hunch about her answer. It must be my Dawn Sky dress, and for the first time since I picked up her call, excitement starts to kick in. My dress might get the happy ending it deserves. It will get to dazzle in front of lakhs of people. It might go down in history.

"I would like to buy your 'Dawn Sky', and I want fitting and alterations made by tomorrow, or at the latest by midday day after tomorrow. I learnt that you live in Mumbai, I'll send a car to pick you and the dress up," She starts telling me. Are all the celebrities this controlling. We haven't even talked the price yet, and I haven't even agreed. If my dress is going to be worn by a crorepati celebrity, might as well earn good.

Shall I ask five lakh rupees, or would that just be plain greedy? I know these people buy a pair of shoes for that money, but I feel ashamed to do it.

"Miss Sahani, let's negotiate the price first, then we can work out the details," I force my voice to stay firm. I was so not born to run a boutique, I am definitely meant to be designing for friends and family and making friendly negotiations. I would make a shitty business woman.

"Very well, what do you ask?" Naina Sahani asks, her voice sounding annoyed. I look at Abhay for a little courage. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, four lakh rupees should be fair enough," I chicken out and reduce the price by a lakh rupees. Stupid Dia!

"No way!" What? "Four lakhs is too high, I'll give you two. You don't even own a label!" the actress berates. Is she for serious? She was the one who approached me.

"No mam, I won't accept anything less than three and half," I say, a little firmer this time. It's not even about the money anymore, it's about my pride.

The other side is silent for a few seconds, before muffled conversations can be heard. She is discussing the matter with someone. Most probably an assistant or manager.

After a whole two minutes, the line cracks with life again, "Ok Dia Dutta, here is my final offer, take it or leave it. I will give you two and half lakh rupees and two tickets for this year's artists' festival in The Rhodes Magic. I will wear your dress, which will come under your label DD. I refuse to wear a label less dress for the most prestigious award function of the country. You can choose the label logo, my people will help you design it by tomorrow night. You will have to remove the picture of the dress from your Instagram profile right away. You can upload a picture of me wearing it, after I've worn it to the ICA. You must be available full day tomorrow for the alterations and adjustments. You will be picked and dropped from your home, and finally I'll mention your name as the designer on my social media profiles, but I'll do no further advertising," she finishes the long list without losing breath once.

Though I heard the whole thing, the only part that mattered, the only part that stuck in my mind, the only part I needed to say yes were the words 'artists' festival'. I can go! I can really go! And the best part is I'll even be able to take Abhay with me!

So before she could even finish her last word, I'm blurting out, "Yes! Absolutely. It's a deal," I'm practically jumping in my seat by then. I turn my excited gaze towards to see him give me a smile. A small smile? Maybe he didn't fully understand what this means, I'll explain as soon as the call ends.

"Good," Naina Sahani says, sounding somewhat pleasant now. We exchange some more details and specifications for a few minutes before she hangs up on my farewell. Oh well, her rudeness cannot bring me down from my excitement. If she is giving me tickets to the festival, she can be as rude as she wants.

I put the phone and laptop aside, controlling my urge to let my friends know this instant that I'll be going too. Abhay first, friends next.

I sit on the sofa cross legged, facing him. He still only has a small smile on his face. Even that looks forced. Did I do something?

"Abhay, what's wrong? Did you just hear what she offered? I get two tickets to the festival Abhay. I can actually go. We can actually go. Isn't that awesome. You and me, on our first trip. That too such an incredible trip," I blabber, my excitement knowing no bounds, blinding me to his troubled eyes.

"Dia, aren't you forgetting something?" He asks slowly, even the small smile gone from his face.

My own excitement dies down some seeing his not so happy mood. I think about what he asked. Not even two seconds later my eyes widen with realisation. Oh shit! His parents are coming. He wanted me to meet them! Oh God! What do I do? I have not even met them, and it's already becoming complicated.

"Oh God! I totally remember now. Your folks are coming to town," I say and stay silent not knowing what else to say. I really want to go, no, I need to go, or I'll regret this for the rest of my life. Is there a way around this?

"Can they postpone or prepone their trip by any chance, Abhay?" I ask meekly, hating to do this, but not seeing any other option.

"No Dia, my father only has holidays on those days, he is big on rules and principles, he'll not change the schedule," he says, looking more somber than before.

"But, they'll be staying at your brother's place right? You can tell them you have a work thing you couldn't avoid? Abhay, we won't get an opportunity like this ever again," I tell, now hating myself for putting him in such a position. It feels wrong to even ask, but I really see no other option.

"Dia, you know that I can't do it. They are especially coming to see me and my home. I'm not going to disappoint them like that," Ouch! That actually hurt. I might be being unreasonable, but all I heard from that statement was that he is not going to disappoint them, but he is going to say no to me. Abhay you are disappointing me, can't you see?

I stay silent a little hurt and a little indignant. He knows how much I've been wanting to go there. He can't possibly expect me to give it up to meet his parents. Which wasn't even my idea in the first place!

I don't look at him, afraid to know what I'd find. Is he disappointed in me? Is he hurt, surely he shouldn't be? Is he angry? Is he expecting me to say 'okay Abhay I'll stay here to meet your parents' with a big smile on my face? Because that definitely isn't happening. I'm going, and that's that.

After a few beats of silence with a thousand thoughts running through my mind, I hear him let out a sigh, "Dia.. I'm sorry that I can't come with you, but I know how much you've wanted to go. I'm happy for you. You deserve this opportunity and every opportunity you get," he says and gets up.

I snap my eyes towards him, my heart speeding up a bit. Though he is still smiling and is saying that he is happy for me, something feels off. I don't want him to leave like this.

I immediately stand up myself and hug him. "I really want to go Abhay. I'm sad that you can't come with me, and I'll make it upto you for your parents, I promise," I say against his chest.

"Okay," is the only word he utters as he hugs me back. Though he returns home with a kiss to my forehead and a smile my way, I can feel that something just changed between us. All I can do is, hope that we get past this.