SS || The One With The Plot (part 5, page 9)

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Geet bites her lip. Things were not going as planned. If she was not careful, she could really end up Mrs Prem Juneja. She winces at the thought. Making sure that her room door is locked, she picks up her phone and dials a familiar number.

"Khanna," a curt voice intones.

"Ullu ke phatey," she beginds, overriding the stunned "Geet?" that she hears. "Bohut badey baatein kar rahe thay na tu? Ke Heer kabhi bhi Prem ko kissi aur ke hotey huey nahi dekh sakti, ke unhe milaney ke liye mujhe Prem ke kareeb jaana padega. Aur nateeja kya hua? Doh haftoon mein meri Prem Juneja sey shaadi ho rahi hai!"

"Kya?" He sounds utterly shocked. "Heer's not doing anything?"

"No," Geet replies forcefully. "She tried to get me to call off the wedding by badmouthing Prem initially, but that wasn't the plan." She pauses. "Maybe we should tell her what we know."

"What proof do we have Geet?" he answers, just like she knows he would. They have had this discussion many times, and he always wins. Because he is right, they have no proof.

"I hate lying to her," she says softly.

"Jaanta hoon," he is equally as soft.

"Haan, par tu toh Delhi se bhaag ke gaya," she pouts, forgetting for a second that he cannot see her. His chuckle only serves to infuriate her more. "Tumhe pata bhi hai ke mujhe kitni takleef hoti hai ke main Heer se jhoot bol rahi hoon? Pata hai? Woh meri behen ki tarah hai aur main – main itni badi baat use chuppa rahi hoon. Aur yeh tumhara flop plan kuch kar bhi nai raha."

"Give it time – " she cuts him off. "Hume sirf doh haftey hain. Agar kuch karna hai, toh abhi karna hai. Warna main agli Mrs Prem Juneja banungi."

"Yeh main honay nahi dunga."

"Toh phir Rajveer Khanna, tu hi mujhe raasta dikha. Ab main kya karoon?"

There is a pause on the other end. "Preet aur Meher ko sab kuch sach-sach bata. Tab tak main Delhi paunch jaata hoon."

Geet nods distractedly. "I'll tell them tomorrow." He makes a sound of assent. "And Rajveer," she hesitates. "jaldi aana."

Geet has no way of knowing that he is beaming at her comment. "I will. Take care."

"Bye," she ends the call and places the phone next to her. Flopping backwards onto the bed, she stares vacantly at the ceiling as she fiddles with the edge of her dupatta.

No matter what, she decided, she will not marry Prem Juneja. She will not marry Chahat's Papa. She will not marry Heer's Prem.

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