He glanced at his phone out of the corner of his eye.
Still nothing.
The same sheet of paper stared back at him, with the same sentence he had underlined a third time. Shravan sighed, unused to the lack of focus he was bringing to the case. It was a fairly straightforward contract negotiation, and he usually left the fact-finding to Pushkar or one of his associates. But these days all Pushkar thought about was his bride-to-be, and the new client had a vast business potentially worth millions in billable hours. Hence the personal Shravan Malhotra touch.
So what if all Shravan could think about was the bride's sister?
So what if his thoughts ran rampant, hope taking flight at her smallest gestures and then crashing painfully back to reality when confronted with her cold demeanor?
Her silence hurt him more than he liked to admit. He didn't know this Suman, who refused to make eye contact with him and only spoke when she was spoken to. His Sumo would have made her displeasure known to him, a matching fire burning in her words and her dark, dark eyes.
But for all her aloofness, she seemed most uncomfortable when confronted with his pain. And that was what confused him most of all.
Did his Sumo carelessly scrape his finger in her haste, or did she gently wrap a bandage around it without a word, gaze lowered despite his eyes begging her to look at him?
His phone buzzed and Shravan grabbed it, breathing in sharply at the "Sumo" on his screen, only to let out another sigh after reading her message: "Don't forget the food tasting at 2".
And then:
Sumo: Give me a ride, my car won't start
Two seconds later -
Sumo: If you can
He was already halfway through typing his response when she added, "Never mind, I will ask one of the PCT girls with a car".
Angrily, he stabbed at the delete key.
Shravan: Shut up. I will be there in 20 minutes
Shravan: BE READY
---
And she was ready, clutching a binder in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He tried not to notice the light scent that lingered with her as she slid into the passenger seat, nor the long hair that looked as smooth as silk as she twisted towards the back to deposit her things.
"What is that?"
Suman looked at him as if it should have been glaringly obvious. "The menu."
He eyed the thick stack of papers. "All of that?"
"Plus some of my notes." At his raised eyebrow, she tilted her chin in defiance. "Food is one of the most important parts of a wedding."
He snorted. "Nobody remembers what they ate two days later, only whether it was enough and whether the alcohol was good."
"Maybe at your weddings," she muttered, clearly as a dig against his family.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.
Suman paid him no attention, staring straight at the road that lay ahead of them.
He wondered what it would bring.
Indian Mythology
