The Accidental Fiancée Read Free Page B

boys and girls. Most of them were
attired in yellow, and had to shout to be heard over the blaring
music.
Zoella, however, registered all of that as a
faraway din. She barely noticed the colorful kites and everyone
else, focusing only on the delicious-looking Fardeen. The music,
shouting and laughter did not distract her from her goal one bit.
Her concentration did not waver. Her eyes were firmly fixed on
Fardeen.
    With bated breath, she waited for
the miraculous moment when angels would trumpet their silver
bugles, flowers would bloom in deserts and Fardeen
Malik ’ s eyes would finally meet hers. The
realization that the love of his life, Zoella Khan, though
unsophisticated and from a modest background, had been right under
his nose all this time would hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Overcome with passion, he ’ d fall to his knees and declare,
enraptured …
    “ Bo Kaata ! ”
    Salaar ’ s yell invaded
her ear-drums and Zoella ’ s imagination crash-landed back to
reality, and back to the rooftop of Swaba ’ s family friend’s house in the old
city. Half of Lahore had gathered there to celebrate the advent of
spring with Basant: kite-flying, food, fun and
flirting.
    “ Take that, you pretty
boy, ” laughed Salaar as he gave
Fardeen ’ s
kite-string one final tug with his own.
    “ Tsk-tsk, such gross insults. On
losing your own kite too! ” Fardeen replied. In response to
Salaar’s questioning lift of the brow, he clarified, “ That ’ s not mine little brother,
it ’ s
yours. ”
    Zoella looked upwards. Indeed,
Salaar ’ s flamboyant red kite was now
floating down the busy skyline mournfully. Around them, boys hooted
and girls tittered. Ignoring Salaar ’ s groan, Zoella’s eyes were back on
Fardeen, who stood a full two feet away from her, skillfully
steering his own kite towards another prey. A big green
one.
    That was Omer ’ s
wasn ’ t
it ?
    “ Swaba! ” called out
Fardeen. “ Want to
see me humiliate Omer, or Salaar again? ”
    Zoella ’ s best friend,
who was sitting on an old stone bench sulking. At her brother’s
question, she glared in response.
    “ I hate Basant! ” said
Swaba. “ It ’ s a
stupid festival, where we have to dress in this stupid yellow,
which is highly unflattering to our skin tones, and watch stupid
boys fly stupid kites …”
    “ We get the
picture, ” said Fardeen drily. Turning towards Salaar’s
friend, he said cheerfully, “ Watch it Omer, fair
warning. ”
Salaar threw frantic instructions at Omer, as
Fardeen tugged and pulled at his kite-string, trying to trap
Omer.
    “ Tighter, Omer! ”
Omer pulled on his string, tightening his
grip.
    “ Not that much, you
fool! ”
Omer let the string loose.
    “ This way, this
way! ” yelled Salaar. “ Left, you idiot!
That ’ s my left! Leave me alone!
Fardeen Bhai … . ”
    Omer stopped short as the big
green kite began drifting away towards the boys on the
neighbor ’ s rooftop, who were yelling,
dancing, hooting and throwing loud insults at them cheerfully,
having poached Omer ’ s kite.
Omer glared at Salaar and stomped towards the pile
of brand new kites, looking shamefacedly towards Swaba.
    “ Pitiful, ” mocked Fardeen,
looking at him.
    “ I don ’ t know why they
think they ’ ve
been castrated every time their kites go down, ” Swaba whispered to
Zoella.
    “ Interesting choice of
words, ” Zoella whispered back.
    That made both of them laugh.
Zoella ’ s eyes gravitated back towards
Fardeen again.
    But no matter how many times she
looked over towards Fardeen, his handsome, sculpted face never ever
turned her way. Ever. Angels had better things to do than blow
trumpets for her. The earth continued to rotate on its boring old
axis, following the same well-worn orbit. God was not in His heaven, all
was not right
with the world. Fardeen was still not hers, nor ever likely to
be.
    Zoella ’ s defeated sigh
originated all the way from her coral-tipped
toes.
    “ Nice job, you! ”
    At the sound