“Tina Sharma!” someone squealed over the bhangra music. “Where have you been?”
Tina stiffly turned around and saw two women approach her. Dread twisted her stomach and she gritted her teeth. Prisha was a choreographer and Khushi was a famous playback singer. Khushi was in high demand and did all the singing for the most popular actresses, and when Prisha was attached to a movie, it guaranteed success. Both of these women had power and influence Tina could only dream of.
“It’s been a long time,” Tina said as they greeted each other with air kisses. “You both look wonderful.” Once again she wished she’d had the chance to change into a party dress. Then she wouldn’t look like the outsider that she was.
“Thank you. By the way,” Prisha said as she placed her hand on Tina’s shoulder, “I didn’t have a chance to give my condolences.”
Tina froze as the sudden tears stung her eyes. No, no, no! The grief surrounded her suddenly and threatened to pull her down. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“It was such a shame,” Prisha said, her insincerity shining through her eyes as she moved closer. “I couldn’t believe you had miscarried so late in your pregnancy.”
“It was a painful time for both of us,” Tina said brokenly. She wanted to get away but she couldn’t move her feet. She needed to change the subject but fragmented images flickered through her mind.
“Did the doctors figure out what went wrong?” Khushi asked.
Tina closed her eyes. She knew she would have to deal with these questions, but she wasn’t prepared to share those dark moments with anyone. “No,” she croaked.
Prisha gave a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. “I’m sure next time you’ll be more careful.”
Tina gasped as the pain radiated through her. She jerked away and glared at Prisha, hating how the other woman’s eyes glittered triumphantly. How did she know that the guilt and confusion swirled around her mind at night? That she continued to question what she could have done differently to save her baby?
“She’s just offering advice,” Khushi said as she held her hands up in surrender. “You’ll need to get pregnant again soon if you want to stay married to Dev.”
Get pregnant? No, never again. She’d made that decision months ago and it broke her heart to think she wouldn’t be a mother. But she refused to take another risk. She couldn’t relive the fear and hopelessness. The devastation. It was a matter of survival.
Tina swiped the tip of her tongue over her lips as she struggled to maintain her composure. “What are you trying to say?”
“What everyone else is,” Khushi said with a sly smile before she strolled away, arm in arm with Prisha. “That the only reason Dev married you was because you were carrying the Arjun heir.”
Tina refused to watch the women leave. She stared straight ahead, the party a blur, as the anger bubbled up inside her. She had no comeback or argument. She had nothing to defend herself with because the women spoke the truth.
Tina remembered the moment she had told Dev she was pregnant. She had been uncertain how he would respond. She’d known the baby was going to change the course of his life but she hadn’t expected the excitement to leap in his eyes. His wide smile and fierce embrace had told her everything she’d needed to know. His immediate marriage proposal was more than she could have ever hoped.
He was a better actor than she gave him credit for.
But no one thought she had deserved the marriage proposal. Moviegoers were furious, believing the seductress should never get the hero. Her colleagues didn’t think a girl from the slums was worthy of the Arjun name. There was a hierarchy in the Hindi film industry and she had broken the rules when she’d married Dev. Some reporters and bloggers had gone so far as to suggest she’d got what she deserved when she miscarried.
She jumped, her memories scattering, when Dev thrust a tall glass of mango juice in her hands. “You look pale,” he said with a frown.
“It’s from the jet lag.” She didn’t want him to know how fragile she felt. Couldn’t, not unless she wanted him to step all over her for the next few months. “If I’d had a chance to put on some makeup and—”
“Tina!” She turned to see Dev’s best friend stretch out his arms before he greeted her with a hug. “Where the hell have you been?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Nikhil.” And she meant it. Ordinarily, she would not have anything in common with a man like Nikhil Khanna. Born into a Bollywood dynasty, Nikhil was rich, educated and had a flair for writing screenplays. Her family had no connections and she had not finished school, yet they had quickly become friends.