Arranged marriage was an age-old story that Khushi, the youngest of the infamous Gupta family, who revolutionized and dominated the trading market for generations, knew well.
For it was the only thing she heard growing up.
But that neither prepared...
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Khushi woke up the next day, feeling once again very stiff and sore. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, next to an untouched plate of food -her dinner- waiting for the husband who she knew would never come.
She felt déjà vu as memories of her wedding night came to mind. Then too, she was all alone in the Raizada Mansion, waiting for Arnav who had disappeared without a sign and now too, she was all alone, waiting for the same man.
Perhaps the only change from then to now was that she knew not to expect.
Khushi just began searching for her phone when she heard a deep baritone voice echo through the room:
"The bed is not so bad to sleep on you know."
Khushi jumped with a start, her heart thudding in panic. She wildly looked around to see Arnav Singh Raizada, himself, seated on a turquoise armchair near the window, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his hair dishevelled, and his blazer thrown carelessly next to him.
It appeared he had indeed arrived last night and slept on the armchair... perhaps waiting for her to rise?
"Sorry," he mumbled, watching her anxious face. "I didn't want to wake you up last night."
Khushi took a deep breath, trying to will her heart back in to control. She felt very odd to see him in the same room as her. In the last one month, she had felt almost free of his presence, of the restraints that came with this marriage. But now, it felt as if she was back on their wedding mandap, utterly helpless.
Arnav glanced at the plate of now cold food. "Why didn't you eat?"
Khushi cleared her throat. "D-did you not see my post-it?"
He stood up and made his way closer to her.
"I saw it," he replied, sitting on the coffee table, only a foot away from her. "But when I didn't show up once the sun went down, you should have known that I wasn't going to come."
Khushi realized what he meant: They were going to be brutally honest with each other, instead of shoving everything that happened in the past month under the carpet.
"I guess I wasn't hungry anymore," she said with a shrug.
He nodded. "So clearly, this is not working."
"W-what is not working?"
"Us," he answered simply. "We are not working the way we are supposed to be."
Khushi's heart took off again. What did he mean?
"We are supposed to be in love, happy and like a couple," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "If we want everyone to stop interfering in our lives, we are going to have to be better at pretending."
"So... what do you want me to do?"
He held out his phone to her. "For starters, give me your number... From now on, you will call me every time we are supposed to be happy."
