The Prince's Indentured Bride

The relations of us

"I like the Rumaali Roti's in My Mom's Kitchen more than here. They are softer." Julian complimented something which is a complement to this restaurant; he still is the whiner between us both.

What a surprise!

"Jules, you should appreciate what is in front of you!" I shoved another piece of raw tomato into my twin's plate which he rewarded with a painful groan, followed by passing it into Husna's plate.

"How could you not like Tomatoes?" She asked, being so pleased with the red tomato slice.

"It tastes like bland chewing gum. Time waste." Julian replied, "It's so ripe and chewy!" Husna admonished him and stabbed his hand with her fork. "Argh! You can't force me to like tomatoes!"

"Shall we order some dessert?" I asked them, "What?" Both of them shouted back at me. I sighed in self-reflection.

Why did I agree to have lunch with them? I hope someday I could find the answer to it; seems like a mystery for now.

"I want some ice cream. Belgian dark chocolate. Anyone up for it?" I offered a proposal of sweet tooth, which both of them nodded to, almost banging their heads amidst eating their portions.

"Vanilla for me." Husna said dipping her Roti in the Butter chicken gravy, "Mint chocolate for me. Husna how can you eat with your hands?"

"What now?" Husna complained. "Hello!" I called for the waiter serving us; he had a cute boyish smile which made me want to leave a good tip for him.

"We have spoons to eat, you know?" Was my twin always this nit-picking or is it some aftereffects of family loss?

"Yes mam." My waiter asked, "One Belgian chocolate, one mint and one vanilla. Thank you."

"And we have god gifted hands for a reason. Freaking use, them!" Husna scowled back. Why were they always bickering?

"You are so done with whatever." He said and shut his mouth with a piece of cucumber in; he needs to stop living on Salads and barbeque meat.

"Does Butter Chicken contain Gelatin?" Husna asked me while I was trying to mind my own business with my chicken sandwiches.

"I don't think so. Isn't it used in sweets?" It felt like a blind showing another blind a way out of darkness; both of us were exceptional cooks: #bestfriendgoals.

"Is it so. Will it be in that ice cream? Then I can't have it." She was having a very serious business with food and I could swear that Julian is still trying to establish diplomatic relationship with his food life.

"Why?" I asked being amazed on how could someone give up on ice cream. "I've seen a YouTube video, it explained how much alcohol gelatin has. Even honey candies too."

"What nonsense!" Julian interrupted, she repelled back, "YouTube is a search engine, if I must remind you."

"That doesn't mean you need to believe in everything it says. You know, some soya sauces also contain percentage of alcohol and even our daily usage sanitizers."

Correct! The same way I didn’t have to believe everything the CBI is trying to shove into my head about the case progress.

"You have a problem with my existence itself, right?" Husna was definitely off topic here, but I don't understand what made her conclude it.

"Who wouldn't?" But from what I see it looks like Julian actually enjoys Husna's company very much; she is bubbly and savage to his unlinking's which makes him to challenge himself. Definitely not his ideal type.

"I also don't like you. You prefer olive oil in your pasta! Eww." By this minute I was exhausted with their excessive interactions and Husna has given up her food in order to fight against him; I quietly took silent bites of my lifeline in hand.

"Oh, then I too hate the way you put honey syrup on Pancakes!" They both were 24-year-old adults, successful in their respective careers, doesn't looks like so, right now.

"Who doesn't like honey syrup on pancakes, Vhrea?" I coughed being caught off guard when they decided that I was a law major and should judge them, which they always do!

"It's just tomatoes." I said innocently; taking sides will drown me in unwanted troubles.

"It is Honey Syrup!" I shut my ears as both of them shouted at me as if I just became a criminal, they have been trying to put behind bars.

I did want some normalcy in my daily life; a way out of my sadness and abyss of no answers to the why and how's, but I definitely did not sign for this!

~

"Someone is following me." I said to Blyton as he inspected all of my four car tyres; ruthlessly slashed. Was it a threat; more like a warning.

"Vhrea was there someone suspicious you have noticed?" He asked me in a robotic tone that I didn't feel like answering at all.

"Yes. A black car and a black motorcycle keep taking turns to follow my car." I had even recorded a footage of them while coming on Gandhi Road, but I assume the plate numbers must be fake.

"From when?"

"Not sure. I've noticed them for the past four days."

I could put them behind bars for stalking but they will be bailed sooner or later by the people they are working for and worse is some other set of vehicles may start following me and it will take too much time and effort to recognise them and collect evidences.

It's not like the people behind this are less in man power; and it seems like they are just keeping an eye on me as I am neither hurt nor frightened, but this little tyre thing now!

My phone rang in the chaos of my nerve breaking thinking’s: Mom.

"Yes Mom." I didn't mind greeting her; it was too early for her to complete the mourning period of Father's death.

"I've arranged a memorial gathering in the remembrance of Richard. Keep your day off." She said as some shuffling sounds entangled in the background with some heavy winds; was she at a river side?

"Okay Mom." I responded with my business tone and saw Blyton making some calls; maybe to the insurance company.

"Nobody should know about this. Especially Jules." I warned Blyton which I knew wasn't necessary because he would never do it; like how he didn't tell me why had Mom met Tiara Raikar– that sweet and sexy lady who always gives me chocolates in boring kitty parties-even I pestered endlessly, and threatened him for shaving off his long hair.

And that is why I had a feeling either Mom was hiding something from us, or she was planning something against my grandfather?

"Where to?" He asked me.

"Grandma's studio . . no, take me to my office." I said and settled at the back seat in the car which Blyton had brought after I called him seeing my tyre conditions. "Do you like tomatoes?"

"Seat belt Vhrea." Why did I even expect him to answer it?

"Yes. Yes. Yes." I replied with a frown; will this man ever behave like a normal human?

Giving up on him I checked my mails; not the office one's. The one where my PI is keeping me updating on things he had found and trying to match with the things CBI's Mrs Shikta has been keeping me updated of.

Till now much wasn't discovered yet: but it's already been a month!

For starters all we knew till now was: Daddy dearest was shot in the forehead, stabbed thrice and killed in the basement of Dear BBQ, where the CCTV couldn't catch much of the assassinator's actions because of the smoke from the crackers.

Only two suspicious men had come inside the restaurant around that time; which both of their alibis proved them innocent: one was trying to catch his cheating wife red-handed while the other was charged of attempted defamation as he had planned to slide insects into the dishes and sue the place.

Nothing of all these was useful to me!

Your Father's last meeting before you were with some Syed Meher, who is now working as an assistant to Mr Hriman of Daily paper, also ex secretary of Gabriel Mendel at Mendel Sports Academy.

My world swirled as I read the line again and again. Why would Daddy Dearest go to meet her, her out of all the people in the world?

Syed Meher: How can I ever forget that name?