Playing the part

“Things we do for our family,” Ishan muttered to himself. Then, looking at his mother, he relented with a resigned nod. “Okay, Ma... I’ll act like the ideal, loving wife to that man.”

His mother’s eyes lit up, her face breaking into a smile at his compliance. “You’re a good boy, beta. I knew I could count on you,” she beamed at him, clearly thrilled by her son's decision.

'This is going to be hella awkward'

Ishan couldn’t help but feel a little confused by his own actions. He was still getting used to pretending to be Aryan’s “wife,” and now he had to act as though he was madly in love with him.

He walked over to where Aryan sat, his wheelchair parked at the drink table, looking out of place as ever.

With an exaggerated smile, Ishan leaned in too close, holding out a drink.

“Here you go, darling,” he said, flashing a grin that was way too big for comfort.

"Yo! ", Aryan raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered, glancing at the women watching them.

"I don't know, Go ask you mummy ji", Ishan quickly leaned back, his smile still fixed, and whispered back,

“Your Mummy ji—aka your mother-in-law wants us to act like a couple in love to impress her kitty friends. ”

Aryan sighed, unsure how to handle this. “Right... because this is normal,” he mumbled, trying not to laugh.

"Can you just go with it for a little while?", Ishan said, his voice filled with annoyance.

"Uhm... Okay I will try"

Aryan took a slow sip from his drink, his eyes shifting nervously to the women, who were practically devouring the scene. He kept his gaze firmly on his glass, trying to ignore the uncomfortable heat of their stares.

Ishan, however, didn't stop. In fact, he took it one step further by placing his hand on Aryan’s arm, resting it there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He gazed up at Aryan with doe-like eyes, clearly overdoing the ‘loving wife’ role, almost like he was auditioning for a cheesy romance movie.

“Are you hungry, darling?” Ishan asked sweetly, his voice dripping with sugary sweetness.

He leaned in closer, batting his eyelashes in a way that made even him cringe inside. "Shall I bring you something to eat, my love?"

Aryan’s face remained impassive, but it was clear he was holding back a laugh.

His eyes flickered nervously from side to side, and he managed to stammer out, “Uh, no… I’m good. I’m just... fine. I’m fine, really"

Ishan wasn’t listening. Instead, he continued to lean toward him with that exaggerated, lovey-dovey expression, making Aryan wish he could just sink into the ground.

"Well, how about a drink then?" Ishan said, his tone dripping with artificial sweetness as he reached for Aryan’s empty glass and pretended to refill it. "Let me take care of you, darling."

As he leaned closer, Aryan couldn’t help but notice how close they were now. He could feel the heat radiating off Ishan, who was practically glowing with an intensity that made Aryan's chest tighten uncomfortably.

Aryan leaned forward and, in what could only be described as a clumsy attempt to play along, kissed Ishan’s cheek.

The moment Aryan’s lips touched Ishan’s skin, the whole room seemed to pause. A collective gasp rang out from the women around them. They were practically holding their breath, eyes wide with delight.

' I’m in a saree, in front of Maa and Baba, pretending to be a wife, and now a guy just kissed me on the cheek?! I’m gonna combust from this embarrassment!,'

Ishan’s heart raced as he felt the warmth of Aryan’s kiss, and his face immediately turned red. His stomach flipped, and the overwhelming rush of emotions made him stumble backward, knocking over a small table in the process.

“Oh… such a sweet couple,” Shruti’s voice rang out from the crowd. Ishan froze in place, his mind racing.

"My husband and I used to steal our kisses when we were young, just like that," she added, her voice teasing, with a knowing smile plastered across her face.

Ishan blinked, trying to hold it together.

“Oh... god, no,” he groaned, but the women were already giggling uncontrollably.

Then, Mrs. Mehta, the older woman who had been eyeing them like a hawk from across the room, spoke up, her voice cutting through the giggles.

"Mamta ji," she called out to Ishan’s mother, her tone dripping with amusement "The way they love each other, I’m pretty sure that the next time Radhika beti comes to her Maiyka, she’ll definitely have a kid in her belly.”

The room burst into loud, raucous laughter, and Ishan’s face felt like it was on fire.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the color drained from his face as he looked over at Aryan, whose embarrassment matched his own.

Ishan’s gaze darted to his parents. Baba, mid-conversation with Murli kaka, turned to see what had happened.

His eyes widened in shock before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat and pretending he hadn’t seen anything. Ishan could feel the awkwardness between them like a weight in the air.

His Maa, a little further away, was failing miserably at holding in her laughter.

“Ma!” Ishan called out weakly, his voice cracking slightly. His mother was standing there, clearly enjoying the spectacle unfolding before her. She chuckled, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I hope that moment comes soon, haha!" Mamta replied, adding fuel to the fire.

Aryan, still trying to get a grip on his own emotions, stared at Ishan in disbelief.

Both of them had become the center of attention—and not in a way they were prepared for.

The women’s laughter grew louder, and Ishan felt like he was slowly sinking into the floor, praying for the earth to just swallow him whole.

“I’m gonna die. I’m literally going to die.”

After hearing the burst of laughter from the women, Rohan finally emerged from his room, his expression a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

He stood in the doorway, his eyes immediately locking with Ishan’s—who, at that very moment, was dressed in a saree, his makeup slightly smudged from all the awkwardness and embarrassment.

The intense redness on Ishan's face was enough to make even the room’s air feel hot.

Rohan’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a deep frown.

"Are you serious?" he muttered under his breath, his face twisting in annoyance.

Without saying another word, he spun on his heel and walked back into his room, clearly frustrated with the whole situation.

Ishan’s heart sank.

'Oh no. Not Rohan too,' he thought, panic creeping up his spine.

He had been avoiding this confrontation all evening, but now, it seemed like he had no choice.

He needed to talk to his brother, especially before he closed himself off completely in that room.