half-girlfriend-chetan-bhagat

‘Dad, Mom and some of their friends.’
‘Dad and Mom?’ I said.
Every guy has a fear of meeting his girl’s parents. Apparently, there
is a scientific term for it—soceraphobia.
We reached the bar. A distinguished-looking couple in their early
fifties stood with guests.
Riya’s parents held a glass of champagne each. They looked like
those people in the Titan watch ads. They wore well-ironed clothes
with immaculate accessories. Everything they had on was designer,
including their smiles. Riya’s father wore a black bandhgala and goldrimmed
glasses. Riya's mother wore a gold coloured silk saree.
‘Riya, there you are,’ Mr Somani said. He put his arm around his
daughter. ‘Rohan’s been asking for you.’
Riya extracted herself from her father’s embrace and moved aside
one step.
‘Hi, Rohan,’ she said. ‘When did you arrive?’
Rohan was a handsome man in his mid-twenties with gelled hair.
He wore a black formal suit.
‘Two minutes ago.The parlour took so bloody long to finish my
facial,’ Rohan said with a heavy British accent.
Rohan Chandak, I learnt, had come from London three days ago.
He and his mother were staying at Riya’s house for the duration of
their one-week trip. The Chandaks and the Somanis both hailed from
Jaipur, family friends for three generations. The Chandaks had a
hospitality business in London. I presumed, like the Somanis, they
were rich.
‘Never mind, young man,’ Riya’s father said and patted Rohan’s
back. ‘We are so proud of you, beta.'
Mr Somani recited the story of Rohan’s father who had died two
years ago. Rohan had taken over the hotel business at a young age and
was doing extremely well. Riya and Rohan seemed to have heard the
story too many times before and looked embarrassed. Mr Somani went
on for three minutes. I checked it against my watch.