Secrets Hidden In Time (Time #1)

04 | The First Trouble in Paradise

Its six occupants smiled at her while the seventh person on the farthest settee—her husband, the Dogra patriarch—stood up and advanced towards her.

He clasped her hand gently in his own and strolled to the place where he was sitting before she arrived.

And then began a chorus of greetings with the people sitting there. A few minutes later, when the acknowledgements were about to get over, the man standing next to the far left settee suddenly walked towards her and took her in a benign hug. For a second, the sudden proximity with this unknown man sent her senses on alert, but strangely, the warmth he exuded resembled a brotherly warmth like that of her own sibling's. His hands were behind her back, yet not in contact with her frame, which she knew was an intentional move in order to not make her uncomfortable. There was an aura of succorance around him, enough to make her feel sheltered.

Sometimes, it was not difficult to sense the type of aura a person radiates.

Detaching himself from her, he tenderly patted the top of her head as a gentle smile tugged at his visage. "Welcome to the family, kid." He said.

Raising his arm, the Dogra patriarch gestured at the man standing beside him, "Aridaman."

Standing before her was a man with a very slight resemblance to her husband—the same dark brown eyes and facial structure. The contrasts were there, though, like the patriarch was always clean-shaven, wore specs, and had a longer nose with thin lips, while his twin, her brother-in-law, sported a classic chevron-style moustache, a thick beard, and long black locks trussed into a man bun. He was not bespectacled, and his nose was shorter while his lips were on the thicker side.

The current generation of the Dogra clan bore three known names under it—Mahadevan, who was the present patriarch of the clan and head of the business legacy; then Aridaman, who was his twin and a renowned US-based sculptor, artist, and illustrator; while the youngest of all, Nirjhara, was a doctoral student in the Royal Academy of Music. All three of them were extremely private about their personal lives. None of them had social media accounts, as well. The younger two weren't present on the day of the court wedding ceremony either.

"Thank you." Her lips curved up feebly as she stood there awkwardly.

What do you even say after a hug with a family member you've never met before anyway?

He only chuckled, petting her head.

He turned to Mahadevan and continued, "Devi, help her with the coat."

The patriarch nodded faintly.

Aridaman smiled back and started retracing his steps back to the spot he was previously settled on when, in a flash, he turned around a bit. "By the way, Hinduja, my sincere apologies for not attending your wedding, although it was at the registrar's office, but still, I am sorry. I was a bit occupied with an exhibition back in the States."

"It's okay." She replied with a smile. He nodded and sat back at his place.

Mahadevan then helped her out of her coat and hung it on a fancy-looking coat hanger stand that was kept some distance away from the main sitting area. He then came back and kept his hand on her right shoulder.

"My friends." He said, pointing at the other five people in the room.

"That's Tapan and his wife, Manisha. Both of them work as investment bankers in London but are originally from West Bengal." A short, statured but strongly built man in a black turtleneck and blue jeans smiled at her. Next to him was a beautiful brown-skinned lady in a white A-line dress; her voluminous brown hair was in a half-up, half-down hairdo, and her radiant smile had a hint of mischievousness.