Page 41
“But why?” he asked, looking from Meher to Trisha. “I still don’t understand. What exactly was the point of making Krish and me wear the same shirt?”
Meher’s smile widened. “Wait until you see the other two.”
Before Ayaan could ask what that meant, Krish suddenly looked towards the entrance.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Ayaan followed his gaze.
Vishnu and Simran were making their way towards the restaurant, and Vishnu was wearing exactly the same outfit. The same multicoloured floral shirt. The same pattern. The same style of trousers.
For a man who usually preferred looking impeccably polished in softer colours, Vishnu looked distinctly uncomfortable with the attention his shirt was already attracting. He kept tugging at the sleeves and adjusting the collar with every step.
Simran, walking beside him with her hand firmly wrapped around his, finally caught his wrist.
“Stop it, Vishnu. You have adjusted that collar four times since we left the villa.”
Vishnu looked down at himself with clear disapproval. “Because this is ridiculous.”
“You look good.”
“I look like a clown.”
Simran laughed. “Just walk.”
He muttered something under his breath but allowed her to pull him towards the table. Then he looked up, and the moment his eyes landed on Ayaan and Krish, he stopped dead.
The three men looked from one another to their identical shirts, and then Ayaan completely lost it. Krish joined him a second later.
“I cannot believe this,” Ayaan laughed. “Vishnu, you too?”
Vishnu’s expression hardened. “Don’t.”
That only made Krish laugh harder. “A politician wearing a floral shirt in the Maldives. This needs to be documented.”
“Shut up, Krish.”
“I’m serious. This is historic.”
Vishnu finally reached the table and looked at all three women, who were now struggling to contain their laughter.
“Whose idea was this?”
Meher lifted both hands innocently.
“Why are you looking at us like we’ve committed a crime?”
“Because you have.”
Trisha laughed. “Oh, come on. It’s only a shirt.”
“Only a shirt?” Vishnu looked down at himself. “Do you realise I have spent my entire life avoiding colours like this?”
“Multicoloured,” Simran added sweetly. “Which is why this was so much fun.”
Ayaan shook his head, still laughing. “Okay, now I understand why Meher was so determined to make me wear mine.”
Meher finally gave up pretending to be innocent. “All right. We saw this trend on Instagram where the wives were surprising their husbands by getting them all into matching outfits and planning a fun dinner together.”
