PART FOUR
Sitting in his study, the May's sales statistics in one hand and his phone in the other, Arnav weighed the pros and cons.
Maybe...?
No. Like he'd said before. NK was an idiot and his ideas, like him, were completely idiotic.
So what if all the chatter about Mrs Sharma's daughter's freaking birthday party had irritated the hell out of him? So what if he wanted to throw the bloody cushions out of the window (preferably after stamping on each one individually)? So what if the daal tasted like a lick of a Sumo wrestler's sweat after a fight? So what if his wife was slowly transforming into a cow?
There were greater problems in the world. And surely, a stupid dating app would not solve anything.
His phone beeped with a new message.
When you're 70 and wheezing in your bed from sexual frustration and your wife is exhausted from trying to turn you on, you'll regret it, Nanav. You'll regret not listening to me.
Arnav glowered at the screen. Before he could reply, a new message buzzed in.
You'll call her a cow and she'll leave you for a 30-year-old hunk. Probably richer than you.
Arnav ignored the second part of NK's message as his mind filled with the image of a cow looking at him with a glassy stare, her jaw opening wide and closing slowly, giving him a clear view of the wet cud inside.
He shuddered and opened the Play Store.
Just to shut NK up.
Khushi's heart skipped a beat as her eyes met the face of her Rajkumar. It wasn't real.
HE couldn't be real.
But she could pretend that he was. After all, it was definitely a better thing to pretend about compared to the torture of having to fake an orgasm. Something she was subjected to every Friday.
(Damn redundant sex schedules)
She quickly swiped right over the image of Salman Khan, tapping on the heart button with glee.
Ashish Ranjan.
Hunh, never mind the name. She would focus on the picture.
He was so definitely a hoax. And she so definitely shouldn't be doing this.
But at least, by choosing this make believe Salman Khan, she wouldn't be letting any other guy down who might have the misfortune of swiping right over her picture. His was a fake profile so he surely couldn't be serious about this dating thing. And neither was she, really.
She quickly went through his description.
Aged 30. Lives in Delhi. Self employed.
(She paused. Hopefully he wouldn't turn out to be a farmer in Haryana.)
Likes football and English action movies.
Khushi's eyes darted back to Salman Khan smiling widely (and handsomely) at her.
Well, maybe it was a spam account or something. And he probably wasn't even gonna reply...
Right?
Anupamaa
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