"Pyaal, your fiance isn't picking up his phone," Khushi exclaimed, worried.
"I'm scared, Khushi," Pyaal whispered while looking at herself in the mirror and toying with an earring, "What we're about to do... It's good, right? Not bad?" She turned and faced her younger sister. "It's weird that on the wedding day the grooms' side would request so much money from us." Pyaal started crying. Khushi wiped away her older sisters tears, and assured her. "Pyaal, what we're about to do isn't wrong at all. Because of the amount of money they asked from us, our dad has to put up his shop for mortgage. We can't let that happen, can we? Don't worry, Pyaal. I'll go talk to your fiance really quickly before the wedding. I'm sure he didn't have anything to do with this."
"You're scared too, aren't you?"
"Of course I am. But I'll still go. Please don't cry." Pyaal nodded and tried to stop her tears from spilling out of her eyes. Khushi would take a piece of paper when she would go visit the groom to show him how much her family was suffering because of the amount of money they had requested from them last minute -- on the wedding day. Khushi's family wasn't the richest in town, yet they weren't the poorest. They were poor, but they lived comfortably, taking and buying only as much as they needed. They couldn't afford luxuries like having an air conditioning system in their house, or being able to buy shoes for 100 dollars every once in a while.
Outside, Khushi and Pyaal's relatives were gathered in a circle, laughing and chattering about the upcoming wedding. Pyaal turned away from her younger sister and allowed herself to be led outside to the relatives by her friends. She sat down in a chair, anxiously waiting for Khushi to hurry up and come back in time for the wedding.
Pyaal's aunt started dancing to a song and she was soon joined by the other wedding guests. Pyaal forced a smile and hoped the feelings about being worried over Khushi didn't show on her face.
*
Khushi ran through the house during the dance, trying to find the piece of paper she needed to take with her. She finally found it, flashed a thumbs-up towards Pyaal, and hurried out of the house, unseen.
*
"Pyaal, where's Khushi?"
*
"Oh my god I don't have that much time. I'll have to hurry up. Why would they ask for so much money last minute anyways? Ugh, and I just ran away from home without telling Mom or Dad. But what else would I do?," Khushi muttered to herself. She had a habit of talking to herself often. "Asking for so much money on the wedding day? So me and Pyaal thought I could go ask her fiancee, Abishek, if he had anything to do with this -- if he even knew his family members were asking for this much money. Anyways, I don't think he knows about this. Hopefully when I go tell him, he'll stop his family members. Okay I'm going now." Khushi silently prayed to her God and sat on her scooter, riding off.
"Move out of the way!" Khushi yelled at the large crowd staring at her, dumbfounded as she rode away. She had no idea why they were staring at her like this, and it was making her a little curious, and angry too, because they were making her go slower, and she needed to make it back to Pyaal's wedding in time. If she didn't, the wedding would be canceled, because she had the piece of paper that contained the money.
*
"Yes, we have the money," Khushi's father told the groom's mother on the phone. They had kept on calling and all they asked about was the money -- not Pyaal, or even the wedding preparations. Khushi's dad turned towards his wife. "I don't know why, but I feel like what we're doing is wrong."
*
"Where's Khushi?," Pyaal and Khushi's aunt asked.
*
Khushi rode through the busy streets. She stopped at the traffic light. She looked around her-- everyone from little kids to ninety-year-old elderlies were staring at her. Then, she heard a little boy whisper, "She ran away from her wedding?"
Khushi looked down at her clothes. No wonder people had been staring at her. Although she wasn't the bride, she was the bride's sister, meaning she would wear a fancy dress too. It could pass as a bridal dress. She glanced at a family of five staring at her.
"It's for a school play," She told them. "I'm playing the princess, which is why I'm so dressed up."
A little five year old boy asked, "Then where's your prince?"
*
Above, in the sky, a helicopter flew over Khushi. She looked up. It looked like it was about to land. The helicopter went away, and she continued her conversation with the family while waiting for the stoplight to turn green.
*
The helicopter landed by a mansion. There was small paparazzi waiting for the helicopter to land, and the person in it to come outside. A young man about 26 years old stepped out. Reporters yelled out, "A.S.R! Arnuv Singh Razaida!," Bombarding him with a million questions. He ignored them, ignored the pictures being taken of him, ignored the questions, and instead focused his gaze on the mansion behind the paparazzi. It brought back memories he was unable to explain.
"We heard you have a past with this city, Lucknow! Sir, when are you getting married?"
The reporters continued on asking him questions but he walked past them all, his gaze fixed on the mansion in front of him, as he walked towards it. He stops walking, and closes his eyes for a few seconds.
*
It's the wedding day. Anjali is getting married, and she happily smiles at her younger brother, Arnuv. He smiles back and gives her a thumbs-up, indicating she looks wonderful. Anjali notices something behind Arnuv and her expression changes from happiness to horror in a matter of seconds. Arnuv turns around. A woman, his mother, is running away from the scene. A gunshot follows by, but it is unknown where the sound came from. "Ma!," Arnuv screamed.
*
A man is laughing at a deal Arnuv has presented. Another man joins in. Arnuv sits there, watching them, angry. They thought they were better than him back then, and they still think they're better than him now. But a lot had changed over the years. Arnuv signals his assistant to open up a brief case. The breif case is full of money. The men stop laughing and they gape at the money, their mouths wide open. However, one man resumes laughing. He keeps on laughing even when Arnuv pushes the suitcase full of money towards the two men. Arnuv stands up. He leans towards them.
"Money isn't my passion, it's my profession."
The man stops laughing, and is silent under Arnuv's intimidating stare. Arnuv walks away. Another man explains to the man that was laughing that they decided to sell the mansion to Arnuv Singh Razaida, and not him. The man protests, but is silenced. At only 26 years of age, Arnuv Singh Razaida had the entire world at his fingertips.
*
Khushi's phone blasts out into song while she's riding her scooter down the busy streets of India. She pulls over and answers her phone.
"Yeah Pyaal?"
"Khushi are you there yet? Did you talk to Abishek?"
"Pyaal, it takes time to get to his hotel, especially on a scooter, right? Okay I'm going to hang up so I can get there faster. Wait - listen! Don't call me again and again, because my phone's going to die soon if you do."
