One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

I looked at him. His smile was childlike. He was visibly thrilled to hold my hand.
‘Yes, I am happy, Brijesh,’ I said. To make others feel better, women lie about their feelings all
the time. It’s amazing how easily it comes to us.
‘So I told you about Menlo Park, right? I thought we could take a place there or near the
Goldman office. That way, at least one of us can be home quickly if necessary.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said absently.
‘Although, if my start-up happens, I don’t have to be in Menlo. We could be near your office in
that case. If I ever take that step, though.’
‘I am sure you will,’ I said.
He shrugged his shoulders. The morning sun was on our faces. I had worked hard to remain on
a plan of regular diet and exercise before the wedding. I hoped I didn’t look fat in my tight workout
clothes.
‘You are beautiful,’ Brijesh said, as if reading my mind.
I don’t know why, but I laughed. I suck at receiving compliments anyway, and laughing in the
compliment-giver’s face is another way of deflecting them.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Brijesh said.
‘No,’ I said and smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘I have never said this to a girl. Ever,’ he said.
I looked at him. He looked like an earnest schoolboy, even though he could work the world’s
most complicated computers.
‘Well, I should be flattered then,’ I said.
We walked in silence. After a few minutes I checked my phone. It had a message from Debu.
‘Good morning, beautiful.’
‘Who is it?’ Brijesh said.
‘Huh? Nothing. Didi woke up and is looking for me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, let’s go back,’ I said.
‘I thought we could have breakfast outside. At a beach shack. Just us,’ Brijesh said.
My phone buzzed again.
‘I love you,’ Debu had sent another message.
I released Brijesh’s hand. I couldn’t hold my groom-to-be with one hand and use the other to
check love messages from my ex.
‘We better get back,’ I said.
‘Anything happened?’
I nodded. Brijesh didn’t say anything after that. We walked back to the hotel. I kept a little
distance from him, so he couldn’t hold my hand again. I held my phone tight and ignored any incoming
messages.
We reached the hotel elevator for my wing. I turned to him before I stepped into the lift.
‘Sorry, Brijesh. I know you’re making an effort so we get to know each other better. I am
trying too. But somehow I just can’t right now. Too much on my mind.’
He smiled.
‘We will have plenty of time after marriage.’
‘You are very sweet,’ I said.
He blushed as he hid his smile. Oh, it would kill me if I had to stab him in the back and run
away with someone else. Why couldn’t Brijesh be an evil groom? Like the ones in the movies, the