Shweta shook her head. “No, no, I retired long ago. I’m executive producing three films and a serial now.”
A serial? “Since when are you doing television?” Dev placed the same intonation on the last word that Shweta had.
“Since I realized there was money to be made there.”
“Which serial is it? I keep up on quite a few of them,” Farzana confessed.
“A new one.” Shweta launched into an enthusiastic description, just as Dev had hoped she would.
He let the conversation flow around him for a bit. The elder Ahmeds kept it going, for which he was grateful.
When the plates were cleared, and a cake brought to the table, Shweta finally addressed the younger generation. “Ayesha, your mother tells me you’re considering an arranged marriage. What a good daughter. Congratulations. This is how marriages should be done. None of these love matches.”
“Three of my daughters had love matches. I am glad Ayesha’s sensible.” Farzana gave her second-youngest daughter an approving look, which Ayesha returned with a slightly annoyed shake of her head. This clearly wasn’t meant to be dinnertime conversation.
Jia spoke up. “Ayesha isn’t doing it to be a good daughter. It’s what she actually wants.”
He’d quickly picked up on the dynamic between the twins, and as someone who had mostly been an estranged elder child, Dev was fascinated by the way they were interconnected. Jia stood up for Ayesha, often working as her mouthpiece or the distraction. Ayesha sweetly and quietly took the attention off her sister when things got too negative for her.
Farzana waved off Jia’s explanation. “It doesn’t matter why. It is good. We will start meeting boys soon.”
Shweta stroked the stem of her wineglass. “Make sure you look past pretty faces, yes? Because I can assure you, my dear, that fades quickly.”
Ayesha flushed. “Of course.”
Shweta nodded in approval. “Good. Take the physical out of things completely. That is another thing the children these days rush, their physical needs.”
Dev choked on his drink of water. “Aji.” He tipped his head at Luna, who had stopped playing with her food instantly at the word physical. “Luna, are you finished eating? Why don’t you go to your room?”
His niece pushed back from the table. “Can I see if Arjun Kaka wants to play video games?”
Mentally, he sighed. He’d be annoyed at his cousin for a while, but Luna did like her uncle. “Yes.”
Shweta looked between him and Jia consideringly as Luna left. “You may have a fourth love marriage on your hands, eh, Farzana?”
Farzana’s laugh was coy. “Oh, if I did, it would be fine. Dev is an accomplished young man.”
“We weren’t thrilled with being caught off guard with the engagement news, but meeting you and Dev has been a relief,” Mohammad added. “We’ll have to start thinking of wedding dates.”
Jia straightened. “We haven’t gotten that far,” she said hastily.
Shweta picked at her cake. “I don’t see why not. That’s your generation’s problem. You date until all the mystery is gone, until you hate each other. Ridiculous. If you meet someone you like, you should marry them and be done with it. Then if you have problems, you have to deal with them and can’t go anywhere.”
“What a lovely description of marriage,” Dev said. “Not prisonlike at all.”
“One of the new movies I am producing is set in a college. Kids these days, younger than these two, they are going around, sleeping together, never seeing each other again after. There is no permanency anymore.”
Farzana gasped. “Jia! Is this right?”
“No!” Jia grimaced. “Uh, we are not . . . we haven’t . . .”
“That’s enough, Aji,” he said softly.
“Apologies, Jia. Of course you and my grandson would never be so wild.” Her smirk was more than a little disbelieving. “I am merely saying, best to have the marriage quickly. You two do like each other, yes?”
Dev was caught off guard by how quickly Jia said, “Of course we do.”
He met her eyes. “Very much so.” More than he should. More than he’d planned to.
“Then you should just get married now.”
Jia let out a little laugh. “You mean a trip to Vegas?”
“No need for Las Vegas.” Shweta looked around the home. “We can do it right here. Tomorrow.”
Farzana laughed, then quieted when she saw Shweta was straight-faced. “You can’t be serious.”
“She’s not,” Dev said sharply. What on earth was his grandmother thinking?
“I very much am.” Shweta pressed her hand to her chest. Her dark eyes welled up with tears. “You see, if we don’t do it now, I may never get to see the ceremony.” She paused dramatically, but not long enough for Dev to prepare himself for her next words. “I do not have long to live.”
The indrawn gasp was collective among those at the table, and Shweta nodded, satisfied with that reaction. “Yes.”
Dev was the only one who didn’t outwardly react. Bullshit. If she was really sick, she would have told him immediately upon his arrival.
Farzana was the first to speak. “My God. I am so sorry.”
Shweta inclined her head. “Thank you. I trust you won’t speak of this to anyone.”
Because it’s a lie.
“Of course not.”
“Do you know how long . . . ?” Mohammad asked delicately.
“I don’t know.”
Dev shifted, surprised to find a trace of panic strumming through his veins. His grandmother wasn’t actually dying. He could tell when she was acting, what her tells were. So why was his upper lip sweating? “Aji,” he said sharply.
Pressure squeezed his thigh. Jia squeezed again, looking up into his face worriedly. He gave a small nod, trying to tell her he was okay. Only he wasn’t sure he was.
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. Perhaps you can visit our home while you’re in America,” Mohammad suggested. “I work at a large teaching center.”
“I don’t think any experimental treatments can help me now. But thank you.” Shweta looked back at Dev and Jia. “Anyway. That’s why it would be nice to see at least one of my grandchildren taken care of before I go.”
“I absolutely understand that,” Farzana said. “But I do not think Dev and Jia are quite at the point where they can get married so quickly. Like you want the best for your grandson, I want the best for my daughter.”
Adil cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should think of a more realistic timeline for a wedding.”
Bless his uncle, who knew the circumstances of their convoluted path to engagement.
Shweta leaned back in her chair. Her sharp gaze reassessed the table, and he could tell the exact second she made a tactical change. “There is another reason for haste. You see, my husband, he was very stubborn, and he tied up Dev’s inheritance with a requirement he marry.”
“Aji!” He half stood, though the cat was already out of the bag. The last thing he wanted was to air this particular laundry in front of Jia and her family. Or anyone, really.