“Okay, you two,” someone clapped, drawing their attention. “Stop whispering to each other.”
Aditi and Rian straightened, looking quite like a pair of detainees who were waiting for judgement. Mr. and Mrs. Krishnan sat directly across from them on the opposite side of the room, the entire force of their family backing them as they raked a critical gaze over their daughter and her lover.
“Before we begin,” an old lady in a yellow saree spoke up, “I would like to say I approve of this boy and I wanted this to happen.”
Aditi beamed at her, and Rian surmised that this was her paati.
“Amma, you knew about them?” Mr. Krishnan asked.
“He’s Chitra’s grandson. Chitra, you were right. They make a very good-looking couple.”
“Nanamma?” Rian threw a surprised glance at his smug grandmother. “Did you plan this?”
Chitra laughed, shaking her head.
“God, no. I merely took notice of what was obvious every time you two were in the same room and pushed things along at the right time.” She turned to her friend, pointing towards Rian. “His facewas worth seeing every time I asked him to book a table for Aditi to meet other men.”
Aditi smirked.
“Aditi, kanna,” Nanamma teased, her tone causing her Cheshire grin to falter. “Don’t think I didn’t see you getting jealous when I pretended to set your colleague up with Rian also.”
It was his turn to raise a brow while Aditi avoided all eye contact.
“I simply gave you the opportunity to get to know each other without my presence whenever possible,” Nanamma continued, making them feel rather foolish for not having questioned why she’d always been too busy to spend time with them or why she constantly retired to bed early. “The fact that the two of you were living in the same house just made it easy for me.”
“They’re living together?” Mr. Krishnan held his heart as though it would give out.
“You go, girl,” another cousin yelled out, someone else adding, “are we allowed to do this now? I want to move out, too!”
“Oh, grow up, kanna. Even I know the way of the world right now.” Paati rolled her eyes, and Rian immediately knew whom Aditi had inherited her sass from.
“So, I guess you two are in. . . a relationship?” Mrs. Krishnan inquired carefully, eyes big behind her glasses.
Aditi nodded.
“This is why you refused to marry Pratik?”
Rian couldn’t control himself, turning to look at Aditi in surprise. She smiled at him. “I learnt to say no, after all. I was never going to marry the perfect NRI.”
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his eyes hot on her, enough to make colour rush up her neck. Multiple people cleared their throats and he looked away, determinedly focusing on her parents now.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Krishnan. I am Rian Shetty,” he introduced himself politely. “Please ask me whatever you need to know.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a chef.”
“Huh,” Mr. Krishnan huffed. “Is it a steady income?”
“Why does it matter?” Aditi interrupted, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I make my own money.”
As surreptitiously as possible, Rian linked his pinky finger with hers, the volume of her skirt hiding their hands. With his touch, he felt her relax, the tightness in her expression fading.
“It is somewhat variable depending on the market,” he answered honestly, meeting Mr. Krishnan’s gaze without flinching. “But I make a comfortable living. Aditi will not go without anything she wants.”
She turned to look at him, wondering why he was downplaying his assets. It didn’t matter because an uncle stepped in.
“Don’t you own a restaurant?” he asked. “I’ve seen you in a magazine somewhere.”