The Arranged Marriage

16

Warning: The following content contains intimate and suggestive themes. Reader discretion is advised.

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I tiptoed away, a bashful smile playing on my lips, after our first kiss. The moment our lips met, a rush of emotions swept through me, like a whirlwind of joy and excitement. My heart fluttered with a myriad of butterflies, each one adding to the exhilaration of the moment. It was the realization of a long-held fantasy, yet somehow, it surpassed even my wildest dreams. The sensation of that kiss lingered, imprinting itself on my thoughts, making every subsequent thought of it a sweet reverie.

The rhythmic knocking on the door abruptly yanked me out of my reverie, where the echoes of our tender kiss played on repeat in my mind. With a tentative step, I opened the door, only to be met by the unwelcome sight of the meddling aunties.

"Come along now, dear. Time to prepare!" one of them chirped, her smirk suggesting an underlying mischief that made my skin crawl.

"Prepare for what, exactly?" I inquired, my confusion palpable.

"No time for questions, dear. Let's begin!" They barged in, armed with boxes of new dresses and makeup kits, completely disregarding any notion of privacy or consent.

Before I could protest, they ushered me into a chair and began their invasive ritual of applying makeup—eyeliner, blush, and a myriad of cosmetics I had no clue about. They tampered with my hair, keeping it simple yet oddly insistent on not making it "difficult for Ash," a comment that left me puzzled and slightly annoyed.

They thrust a red lace saree into my hands, its sheer fabric and intricate design leaving little to the imagination. Alongside it, a matching red lingerie set appeared, causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment and confusion.

"What is all this?" I managed to voice my bewilderment.

"It's the Full Moon night," one auntie chimed in.

"And Sunday," added another.

"A night of tradition," continued a third.

"The night for... well, you know," they all spoke over each other, their words slowly dawning on me.

Realization struck like a thunderbolt—it was the traditional night of intimacy, a prospect that made me squirm with discomfort. They chuckled amongst themselves, leaving me to grapple with a mix of emotions ranging from embarrassment to frustration.

As they exited, leaving me to my own thoughts and fears of their nosy eavesdropping outside, I couldn't help but wonder about Ash's predicament, imagining him under similar, if not worse, scrutiny and discomfort at their hands.

I changed into the dress and looked at myself. I felt gorgeous. It sounds narcissistic, I know. I have curves that any man would die for, smooth skin that I have been taking care of for years, a slender body that has been maintained with hard work, and a glow on my skin maybe because I eat a lot of chocolates. My face looked pretty with minimal makeup. I wore some silver jewelry, since gold didn't look that appealing against my skin. My Indian skin isn't something that I have always been proud of, but right now, any man would want me. The lace saree barely hid anything, leaving the imagination wild for a man. The blouse hung low, showing cleavage when I bent, teasing my man.

I had always been the type to shield every inch of my skin, shying away from revealing even a glimpse to my own mother. The idea of physical closeness, of people near me or even the thought of a hug, would often stir discomfort within me. However, with Ash, it was different. Somehow, my body seemed to grant him permission, as if it recognized a kindred spirit in his touch.