The Accidental Fiancée by Zeenat Mahal

 
    The Accidental Fiancé

    Akbar’s plan was simple.
    Get engaged to the girl his mother had
chosen for him and delay the marriage for as long as he could. So
he drove with his mother to the dingy little house that had seen
better days.
    Giving her a disdainful look, as he helped
his mother out of the car, he queried, ‘She’s obviously marrying
for money. Aren’t you afraid she’ll poison you to get to me?’ He
paused and then added as an afterthought, ‘And then me to get all of my money?’
    His mother gave him a look that used to send
his father into unscheduled panic-attacks. Akbar told himself he
was immune to them. Then he gave her his extra special smile. It
worked. It always did. On everyone, he grinned.
    They were shown into a drab little drawing
room and he sat down on a shabby old couch. ‘ Ami , I really
don’t have the time, so please hurry with this whole…’
    ‘Akbar, be quiet, beta .’
    Defeated, he got his iPhone out.
    Soon there was a flurry of movement and the
prospective parents-in-law came in. The father, thin and white
haired, looking crushed and forlorn, had put on a bravely polite
face. The mother, overweight and sad-looking, smiled a faded tired
smile. Akbar felt the first stirrings of pity mingled with
depression. The girl would probably be a pretty face with no
personality. He chatted with the prospectives pleasantly as they
waited for their daughter to make an entrance with the requisite
tea-trolley. He already knew they’d claim their daughter had made
‘everything from scratch’.
    At last the creaking wheels of the trolley
became audible and the sound of china cups tinkling. Thank God!
They could get the obligatory cup of tea out of the way and he
could go back to his life. He looked towards the door out of sheer
habit as it opened.
    Nothing could have prepared Akbar for the
sight that met his eyes. He stared in disbelief. Of all the gin
joints in the world, he thought, with a grin. Did she know that she
was to be paraded in front of him ? He got up to receive his
soon-to-be-fiancée. His arch-nemesis, Khayyam Zafar, the terror of
his college days back in the 90’s, now pretending to be the demure
little bride-to-be. He smirked. What a harpy she was and how
devious.
    Let the games begin.
    She walked in and greeted his mother
pleasantly, but didn’t even spare him a glance. Didn’t she care who
she was being tied to for the rest of her life? The very picture of
a demure eastern girl, shy with her eyes cast down, she began to
pour tea. She was still oozing sexy though, with her warm skin
tones and high cheekbones, and that there was that mouth…
    Her most misleading weapon, he reminded
himself. She had a nasty, sharp tongue in there somewhere.
    As she handed him his cup of tea, he said
under his breath, ‘You must be pretty desperate to get
married.’
    Her hand jerked, nearly spilling the tea on
him. Their eyes met. Imperceptibly, hers widened, and she squared
her shoulders, straightened her posture.
    ‘ You! Is this some sick joke?’ she
hissed.
    ‘You tell me, KK?’
    ‘ Don’t call me that.’
    And she offered him a plate.
    He burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it.
It was so damn funny!
    Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, his eyes
full of mirth and glued onto her, he addressed his not-to-be future
in-laws, ‘Uncle, Aunty, I am so happy to see K…Khayyam after all
these years! We were in college together, you know.’
    Khayyam glared, then closed her eyes and
clenched her teeth while she mustered control. Letting her breath
out slowly, she opened her eyes, pasted a smile on her face and
turned towards her parents.
    ‘Really? How wonderful Khayyam,’ her father
gushed. ‘Why don’t you two sit and talk…and…we’ll be right here. Bhabi come and sit here. We should give them a chance to
catch up.’
    They moved towards the other couch, which
was only two feet away but apparently that was all the privacy he
was willing to accord them.
    Akbar turned towards