The morning after the reception demanded one final, inescapable appearance. The final ritual was a small, high-status family brunch and satyanarayan pooja hosted by the groom's family. The setting was intimate, making escape impossible and all interactions intensely visible.
The Ritual and The Distracted Visitor
The women, including Roo, were dressed in immaculate, understated salwar suits and minimal, dewy makeup, all designed to convey quiet grace and domestic perfection. Roo wore a pale peach outfit, but her eyes held a frantic, sleep-deprived sheen.
Lav arrived late, his mind visibly elsewhere. He wore a sharply tailored navy blue suit—a stark contrast to the traditional wear—as he was due to leave for a business emergency immediately after. He didn't intend to stay; he only came for two reasons: to bid a formal goodbye to the family and, more urgently, to find a way to discreetly contact Roo.
He scanned the room nervously, managing brief, formal pleasantries while his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his phone. When he spotted Roo, her intense effort to look serene and composed was palpable. She saw him too, and her gaze immediately darted away, attempting to melt into the background.
Shyan's Public Brainwashing
Before Lav could make his move, Shyan sauntered over to Roo, his swagger fully restored, his arm resting possessively on her shoulder. He drew her a few feet away, right into the peripheral sightline of both their parents, and began his performance—a perfectly calibrated, subtle scolding disguised as a loving correction.
"Roo," Shyan whispered, his voice too loud for a private word, "you really embarrassed me yesterday. Interrupting me in front of my cousin's friends over some stranger's dog? Our parents had to explain that you're just 'sensitive.' You made me look like a fool, and all for a man you don't even know."
The shame in Roo's chest flared into blinding rage. "A man who wasn't caught doing indecent things right out in the open!" she hissed, finally daring to speak the truth. "Should I tell our parents exactly why that dog was barking, Shyan? Or should you?"
Shyan's charming facade didn't break; it simply shifted. He let out a low, rueful chuckle, making the gesture seem like a childish outburst of Roo's. "Ah, Roo, you're still dwelling on that? I was talking to the decorator about the lights—you know how focused I get. And the dog—it came right at us, it looked aggressive. I regret using my foot, of course, because I know how much you love animals."
He pivoted instantly, transforming himself into the victim of his girlfriend's "over-sensitivity." He turned slightly toward their parents, who were now watching. "I know I reacted badly, but I was protecting the girl who was with me," he said, loud enough for the adults. He then leaned back toward Roo, lowering his voice again, his smile dangerously possessive. "I'm sorry, Roo, truly. I shouldn't have been so protective. You know I only want what's best for you. Please, forget that awful scene. It was just a misunderstanding, darling. Don't let your imagination run wild."
Their parents immediately intervened, shaking their heads in disappointment at Roo. "See how he apologizes?" her mother scolded softly. "He's so magnanimous. You need to stop making drama out of nothing, Roo. He's a good boy."
Roo was cornered. Her truth had been instantly twisted and rejected, leaving her helpless and feeling utterly insane.
The Desperate Contact
Lav, watching the entire exchange, felt a cold dread in his stomach. He saw the genuine terror in Roo's eyes as she was publicly gaslit. He knew he couldn't leave without ensuring he could reach her.
He quickly scribbled his personal number and social media handle onto the back of his plain, elegant business card. Spotting a catering assistant moving toward the kitchen, he intercepted the young man with a crisp ₹500 note and a low, urgent request: "See the girl in the peach suit? Give this to her immediately. Say it's from 'The Dog Man.'"
Seconds later, as Lav made his final, hurried goodbye to the host and started for the door, he saw Roo receive the card. She palmed it instantly, her eyes flashing toward him in a brief, frantic moment of acknowledgement.
The Bolt of Lightning
Lav reached the marble foyer, stopping briefly to check his watch and pull on his blazer. Roo, overwhelmed by the confrontation and the dangerous new secret clutched in her hand, was moving in the same direction, needing air.
A small accident unfolded with frightening speed: a waiter rushed past carrying a silver serving tray, clipped the edge of a decorative table, and the resulting rattle caused a sudden, violent lurch.
Lav stumbled slightly, turning to avoid the tray, and his face swung directly toward Roo, who had instinctively raised her hands to steady him. In the split second of kinetic chaos, their faces collided.
It wasn't a kiss of intent, but a momentary brush of skin—Roo's soft, cool lips pressing against Lav's clean-shaven cheek.
The contact was brief, barely a second, but it felt like a clap of thunder. Roo froze, her eyes wide with shock, humiliation, and a terrible, giddy rush of feeling. Lav stood completely paralyzed, the heat of her touch burning a permanent brand on his skin.
Before Lav could process the moment, before anyone else could notice the indiscretion, Roo whirled around. She didn't walk, she didn't run—she flew away like a bolt of lightning, disappearing instantly into the crowd.
Lav stood alone in the foyer, one hand touching the spot on his cheek, his mind a complete blank, the adrenaline from the near-accident replaced by the shocking, sweet terror of the kiss. He knew one thing: their secret had just become infinitely more dangerous.