Chapter 4: Shifting Alliances

4

My father’s voice thundered: "Get out."

The words echoed down the marble hall. Servants whispered behind their hands. Even old Sultan, our Labrador, stirred at the tension.

As Arjun left, he ran into Kabir, who burst into the foyer, scarf askew, hair wild, excitement radiating. He barely paused to remove his shoes.

Kabir called out anxiously, "Uncle Sharma, please don’t rush to betroth Priya to Arjun. Please, consider me!"

His voice was full of shameless hope. My father raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile at Kabir’s audacity.

Arjun’s face darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He looked at Kabir as if the younger man were a fly on the wedding sweets.

Kabir, the Singh family’s youngest master, the Chief Minister’s nephew, had been part of my childhood—playing cricket in our compound, stealing mangoes, rescuing kittens. The colony aunties called us Ram-Sita in jest.

His two elder brothers and a sister doted on him; he was spoiled by all. The servants adored his jokes and Diwali tips.

A rascal, yes, but talented. This time, he’d bet on the UPSC exam and placed thirty-seventh. His mother handed out laddoos to the neighbourhood; Kabir just grinned, “Bas, ho gaya.”

He didn’t care for rank—he only wanted to prove himself. Then he returned to his old ways: a party at Olive, a week in Goa, always a little filmi, never dull.

In my previous life, when he proposed, I had already agreed to Arjun.

I remembered the sadness in his eyes beneath the jokes. Even now, guilt tugged at me.

Privately, I realised the Singh family was a good match: the elders were kind, the siblings united, and Kabir was the sort to bring chaat and cold coffee when things were good, and shield you in a storm.

His family would never let you eat dinner alone; Kabir would show up with hot chai if you were sick. For all his faults, he’d stand between you and trouble with his bare hands.

Facts proved it. After my family’s ruin, Kabir alone kept coming—bringing groceries, lawyers’ contacts, even selling his Royal Enfield for my nephew’s surgery.

His kindness is a debt I can never repay.

Even now, the memory chokes me. Loyalty like his is rare as rain in May.

My eyes grew red. Kabir noticed, instantly switching to clown mode to make me laugh.

Kabir was startled. "Wait, are you scared or happy?"

He made a face, pretending to cower. I couldn’t help but laugh.

"Arrey, silly, Arjun is proposing to Neha. Why are you so anxious?"

Laughter rippled through the family. My father smiled, finally at ease.

Kabir’s mouth fell open, his hand frozen halfway to his pocket, as if the words had knocked the air out of him. He glanced at Arjun in disbelief, then managed, "Brother Arjun really… has unique taste."

His tone was teasing, not cruel. Even Neha smiled, shyly. The tension melted a little.

Arjun’s face darkened further, as if he’d bitten into a green chilli by mistake.