Mira Rao had a sinking suspicion that wedding receptions were God’s way of saying, “Let’s remind you, you’re still single!” And this one was a masterpiece in emotional torture. She wasn’t sure what was worse – that she’d seen her ex-husband at the wedding she could barely afford to attend, or that he hadn’t even noticed her.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, clutching her wine glass like it might give her the superpowers she desperately needed. Her eyes flickered over the twinkling fairy lights strung above the setting as she took in the laughter of love-struck couples swirling around her like confetti. It was like every romcom she had ever despised had come to life, with her playing the role of the awkward, unnoticed extra.
She adjusted her sari, the deep teal fabric pulling a little too tightly around her waist, as though mocking her attempt at composure. The delicate gold embroidery shimmered in the light, matching the understated jewellery she had chosen – a pair of antique jhumkas that framed her sharp jawline. Her warm brown skin glowed, the result of hours spent meticulously blending foundation to hide the lines of exhaustion underneath. Her almond-shaped eyes, perfectly lined with kohl, darted nervously across…
