The Drive to the Airport
Romy drove swiftly but calmly through the late morning traffic, sunglasses perched on his nose, fingers tapping the steering wheel in rhythm to a classic Bollywood song playing low on the stereo.
His mind was still half on the argument from last night with Preety.
Her words replayed in his ears like a cruel taunt.
Who is Princess? Why are you hiding her? Don't lie to me.
He winced.
He hadn't even tried to explain. He'd just snapped and walked out.
He sighed, shaking his head.
This is exactly why I didn't want this marriage.
He wasn't ready for all these expectations.
The GPS chimed, pulling him back.
"You will reach the airport in 5 minutes."
He blinked. His mood lightened slightly as he remembered who he was here to pick up.
Princess.
A smile tugged at his lips despite himself.
Dia.
The Airport
He parked quickly and walked toward the arrival gate, scanning the small crowd spilling out of customs.
And there she was.
Dia Roy—his uncle's daughter, technically his cousin, though they'd grown up almost like siblings.
She stood out even in the crowd.
Dia wore distressed jeans and a simple black T-shirt, sneakers unlaced. Her hair was cut boyishly short around her ears. A pair of dark aviator glasses sat on her nose, making her look like a rebellious college student.
Her large backpack was slung carelessly over one shoulder.
When she saw Romy, she lit up instantly.
"big brother!"
She ran to him, weaving through passengers.
Romy opened his arms wide. She crashed into him, hugging him tight.
He laughed and hugged her back, ruffling her short hair.
"You're still the same, huh?" he teased. "Tom-boy attitude and all."
Dia pulled back and punched his chest playfully.
"Shut up! You love it!"
Romy laughed. "Damn right I do. God, Dia, look at you! When did you grow up?"
She snorted. "Don't pretend to be shocked. I sent you photos from my graduation!"
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean those blurry selfies in a robe? Yeah. Very adult."
She stuck out her tongue.
He grabbed her backpack. "Come on. Let's get you home."
In the Car
As they settled in his car, Dia looked sheepish.
"big brother… I'm sorry I couldn't come to your wedding," she said.
Romy glanced at her while starting the engine.
"Forget it. Exams were more important. Don't apologize for being responsible."
She exhaled. "I was dying inside though. Watching your wedding photos on Facebook between calculus papers."
He chuckled. "You didn't miss much."
She frowned at the edge in his tone.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Romy didn't answer for a moment. He just shook his head, pulling out onto the road.
"Let's talk about that later. For now, you're here for the summer holidays. And I intend to spoil you rotten."
She beamed, instantly bright again.
"Yes please! Ice cream for dinner? Shopping sprees? Movie nights?"
"All of the above," Romy promised.
She threw her arms around his shoulders (as much as the seatbelt allowed).
"You're the best!"
Meanwhile, Monty on the Road
Monty sat behind the wheel of his own car, the AC blasting to fight the brutal afternoon heat.
He was already halfway out of the city on the highway to Kolkata.
He gripped the steering wheel, cursing under his breath.
His dad's voice on the call still rang in his ears.
"Monty, where are you?"
"On the highway! Halfway to Kolkata! Why?"
"You didn't take Romy with you? Prem and Roy decided you both would handle this deal together!"
Monty had groaned.
"Dad! You should have told me that last night! Now what?!"
His father had sighed.
"Call him. Tell him to catch up. He'll understand."
So Monty pulled out his phone and dialed Romy's number repeatedly.
No answer.
He swore.
"Idiot. Where the hell are you? Dancing in the bathroom again?"
He redialed.
Nothing.
Frustrated, he slammed the phone on the passenger seat and accelerated.
Back at Romy's House
They pulled into the driveway just as the sky began to glow with warm evening light.
The old colonial mansion glowed golden, the garden lush after recent rains.
Dia stuck her head out the window.
"Home sweet home!"
Romy laughed.
"Get your seatbelt off, you monkey."
She did, bouncing excitedly as he parked.
They climbed out. Dia instantly took a deep breath.
"Smells like India. Like childhood."
She looked around, eyes bright.
Romy smiled warmly.
"Welcome back, Princess."
She groaned.
"Ugh. Still calling me that? My hair's short now, you know."
"Still my Princess," he teased.
She made a face but couldn't hide her grin.
Preety's Suspicion
Inside the house, Preety had been pacing for hours.
She hadn't spoken to Romy since their argument the night before.
She felt humiliated and furious.
He didn't even explain who that girl was on the phone. He just stormed out.
Now she heard the car outside.
She rushed to the window.
Her eyes narrowed.
Romy was stepping out—smiling. Laughing.
With a girl.
Her heart sank.
Dia ran around to hug Romy from behind. He pretended to struggle, laughing even harder.
Preety's eyes burned.
He didn't even hide it. He brought her here. In front of everyone.
She stormed to the front door, flinging it open so hard it rattled.
The Confrontation
Romy looked up in surprise as Preety marched down the steps.
Her voice was low but lethal.
"So this is her? Your 'Princess'?"
Dia blinked in confusion.
"Princess? Big brother still calls me that?"
Romy scowled.
"Preety, stop it."
But she was already advancing.
"Oh, I'm supposed to just stand here while you bring your mistress home?"
Dia's jaw dropped.
"Mistress? What the fuck? who is this woman?"
Romy stepped in front of Dia.
"Enough. Preety, calm down."
Preety was shaking.
"Calm down? Watching you flirt with her? Laugh with her? You ignored my calls all day for this?"
Romy's eyes hardened.
"Because I didn't want to fight again. Because I knew you'd do this."
The Slipping Incident
In her rage, Preety lunged forward.
But just then, a servant carrying a bucket of water passed behind Romy and accidentally sloshed some onto the marble floor.
Preety's foot hit the slick patch.
She shrieked as she lost balance.
Her arms pinwheeled.
Romy tried to catch her but was too far.
Dia dropped her backpack instantly and leapt forward.
She grabbed Preety by the waist, pulling her upright.
Their faces ended up inches apart.
Both women froze.
Preety panted, wide-eyed.
Dia's hands still held her firmly.
"Careful," Dia said quietly, voice strangely gentle.
Their eyes met.
Preety's gaze flicked over Dia's face—short boyish hair, dark, sharp eyes, round soft lips.
For a second the anger faded.
She saw the truth.
This girl wasn't Romy's lover.
This was someone else entirely.
Romy finally reached them, grabbing Dia's shoulder.
"Dia, you okay?"
Dia rolled her eyes.
"Yeah. But your wife has balance issues."
Preety flushed.
Romy turned to her.
"Preety. Let me introduce you properly."
He gestured at Dia.
"This is Dia Roy. My uncle's daughter. My cousin. She's from America."
Dia added dryly, "Also known as the girl who barely scraped through graduation and is here to mooch off big brother for the summer."
Romy grinned.
"I've called her Princess since she was born. She's practically my baby sister."
Preety's mouth opened.
Closed.
Her face went white.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
Romy's expression softened.
"Preety. She's family. That's all."
Dia finally released Preety's waist.
"Nice to meet you… beautiful sister in law," she added awkwardly.
Preety's eyes welled up.
"I… I'm so sorry. I thought—"
Romy exhaled.
"I know what you thought. And it hurt me, Preety. Because you didn't trust me at all."
Preety covered her face with her hands.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."
Romy hesitated.