Page 44 of The Escape

Ayaan stared at her. “But I wore the shirt.”

“You argued for twenty minutes before wearing it. Raghav didn’t argue even once. I had to practically negotiate a peace treaty to get you into that shirt. Siya asked him once, and he simply wore it. I still cannot believe you two are twins.”

Ayaan looked at Krish and Vishnu before turning to Raghav. “I think we three husbands need lessons from you, then.”

Raghav’s mouth curved with unmistakable satisfaction.

He folded his arms across his chest.

“Finally, you people are admitting that I am the best husband here.”

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” Ayaan warned.

Raghav laughed.

“Too late.”

Meher rolled her eyes. “Selfie!” she announced.

All four men groaned at once.

“Why does every situation require a photograph?” Vishnu asked.

“We want memories,” Simran replied.

The chairs were pushed back as everyone gathered together. The women moved to the front while the men stood behind them, each of them automatically making room until all eight could fit into the frame.

Raghav slipped his arm around Siya’s waist. Meher leaned into Ayaan. Trisha stood beside Krish, while Simran moved closer to Vishnu. Then Raghav took the phone, holding it high enough to capture everyone.

“Ready?”

“Wait!” Meher immediately protested. “My hair.”

A collective groan followed.

“Meher,” Ayaan warned.

“One second.”

She fixed her hair, Simran adjusted her dress, Trisha pulled closer to Krish, and Siya pressed her hand over Raghav’s as it rested around her waist.

Finally, once everyone had settled, Raghav raised the phone again and took the photograph. Then another. And one more, because apparently one photograph was never enough.

The moment the last picture appeared on the screen, all eight leaned closer to see it. The four identical floral shirts stood out immediately.

Ayaan stared at the photograph.

“I still can’t believe we actually did this.”

Krish laughed. “You mean you still can’t believe your wife made you do this.”

Vishnu looked at the photograph and shook his head. “I’m deleting this.”

Simran immediately reached for his phone. “No, you’re not.”

For a few minutes, they simply remained there, crowded around the same table, laughing over the ridiculous shirts, arguing about who looked best, and already planning which photograph would become the group picture on their WhatsApp.

They settled around the table, the eight of them finally in their seats after an evening that had already given them more than enough reasons to laugh. Dinner was ordered, drinks were served, and the photograph from the evening remained open on Ayaan’s phone.