CHAPTER ONE

Kriti's POV:

I took in my new room, in my new house, owned by my new husband. It was a massive bedroom. The towering windows flooded the room with moonlight. The bed was a heavy wooden thing, overwhelming the space decorated with real roses and mogra flowers in celebration of our wedding night. The pleasant fragrance of the fresh flowers filled the whole room. The walls were light blue, with a texture on the front wall—something I had always liked. The room was brightly lit making my headache after the long day. But, my tension and nervousness had suppressed the exhaustion. The bridal attire was making me uncomfortable, but I had been strictly instructed by Mumma to wait to change until my husband entered the room.

I still knew nothing about my husband. I love to talk—my friends call me ‘radio’—but I find it so hard to talk to him. Maybe it’s because of his reserved nature or just the fact that he seems angry all the time.

I still remember my first phone call with him about a month and a half ago. I had gone for a walk with Shubhangi when she said, teasing, “so, how’s it going? Has Arnav proposed to you yet?” She was excited, her dimples creasing her face and her eyes gleamed.

 “Proposed?” I asked. “Do you even expect him to propose?”

“Oh come on, don’t hide things from me, I want all the details.”

I took a deep breath and began to explain. “So, according to my would-be mother-in-law, he leaves for work at about 10 a.m., then comes back at about 7 p.m., apparently, once he’s home he continues working. I don’t think he does much more than work, and you expect me to talk to him? What would I say? ‘Hey Arnav ji, how’s work going?’ and then he’ll just bore me to tears by telling me about all his catering orders.” I rolled my eyes as I tried to concentrate on my soft drink.

She laughed, her chubby cheeks completely overpowering her eyes. “Girl, I think you’re exaggerating.”

I gave her a confused look and she elaborated, “I think you need to talk to him, if he’s not making the move, then why don’t you be the one to make it?” I brushed the topic off and ordered a butterscotch ice cream from the waiter. “Kriti, Arnav seems like a good guy, he’s just a bit different from you and me.”

I smiled and drowned my voice in sarcasm. “Oh really! How do you think he’s a good man? And I don’t know how all of you, be it my friends or family, have suddenly started to like him without even talking to him properly. It’s just because he’s rich.”

“Oh! God! Kriti, it’s not about his money, and we don’t always need to talk to a person to decide we like them.” She put her hand on her heart. “And that perfect jawline of his makes me swoon.”

“Are you saying that you’re attracted to him?”

She replied sarcastically, “are you jealous?”

Before we could get lost in our girly conversation she started pestering me to give him a call as a matter of ‘my guts’. I ignored her until she took my phone and hit the green button declaring ‘call’.

I mouthed to her, “this is not funny!”

When he answered, it was with unconcealed impatience. “I’m at work,” he snapped before I’d even said hello. “I’ll call you later.”

A second later I was talking to dead air. I stared at the phone in my hand. “What the hell? He’s so rude! How am I supposed to spend my life with that? The jerk could have at least talked to me for a few seconds!”

Even Shubhangi was surprised at his behavior. “I agree, that was way out of line, he seems so gentle usually.” That was all she could manage before she burst out into laughter. “Oh, your face! I will have a picture of this stuck in my head forever.”

I scowled at the phone some more. I hadn’t expected him to be like this, and it made me shiver inside. What if that was his normal behaviour? Before we could make any more assumptions, my phone flashed with a text message from Arnav.

I’m sorry for hanging up like that, I’m in an important meeting. I will try to call you later. SORRY Kriti ji…I hope you understand. J

That smiley face seemed like it was mocking me. Shubhangi gave a sigh of relief.

“Aw that’s so cute…see, I told you he’s a good guy. I think you should reply with something nice.”

I growled at her, “I’m not replying with anything.” She knew that I wouldn’t listen to her.

Arnav surprised me that night. After eight hours, I gathered up my courage and called him again. I meant to apologize and convince him that the call was a mistake. The phone rang three times and he answered, “Kriti ji, you called me again—”

I interrupted before he could say anything more. “Earlier,” I stumbled over the words. I had no one with me, except for my teddy bear, to motivate me. “It was a mistake. A dare.”

“And this time? Another dare? I’ve got time now. I’ll play.”

I clutched my bear to my chest and said, “no. It's not another dare.”

“Then still busy with the last one? Why did you take the dare? Are you a very daring person?” He chuckled at his own joke and I realized that was the first time I’d ever heard him laugh. I was immediately suspicious of that good temper. Was he teasing me or just being a bully? That dark suspicion vanished after a few more sweetly teasing comments. My future husband, apparently, could be playful. The knowledge settled around my heart. A tiny light of hope lit within me. Maybe he just looks like a serious, inconsiderate man; and maybe, somewhere deep inside, he’s a normal person like me. I was well prepared with my explanation, so I took a deep breath and said, without even pausing for a moment, all that had happened at the Café with Shubhangi. I left some of the conversation unsaid. Like the proposal part. I kept speaking until I was out of breath.

“I promise you Arnav ji, I won’t disturb you during work hours from now on.”

 Arnav listened in what I could only assume was shocked silence. “Kriti ji, it's okay. Don't be so worried.”

“Alright.” I had nothing left to say. What was I supposed to do? “Okay then, bye!” I said casually.

Arnav replied with, “bye!” He paused for a long moment and added sugary syrup to his tone as he finished, “and you can call me after work hours.”

“Okay,” I said, and even before he could hang up, I thought viciously, why would I call you? Dumbo!

I have certain good theories suggesting that he is, in fact, a dumbo, despite the fact that he’s a successful businessman at just twenty-eight years old. His father had owned a small restaurant called Zaayaka, which Mr. Gupta established with a little capital of his own about fifteen years ago. Arnav would have been in school at the time. The restaurant, situated on the busy Mall Road, became an instant success. The restaurant apparently earned enough to supply his family with a comfortable, upper-middle-class lifestyle. When Arnav took over the management of the place, he was able to expand the family business. In just eight years, Arnav opened three more branches of Zaayaka. The restaurant quickly became one of the most popular eateries in the city. I loved the food there and had spent numerous evenings there chilling out with my friends and family members. However, it's strange, how often I used to go there, but I never once saw Arnav.

Now, he earns lakhs per week, and he’s decided to marry a girl he’s never met before. I’m just a postgraduate in literature. I don’t even have a job. And he is earning lakhs. The man had only seen my photograph, the one which is usually sent to families of prospective matches for the initial arrangement of a marriage. I realize, that’s the traditional way, but I didn’t expect him to be so conservative, he’s a modern-day businessman. I think people have changed now-a-days, the bride and the groom tend to meet each other at least once before getting married. I, being the bride, couldn’t have demanded to meet him though. Doing so would have gotten me labeled as a woman who would burn the culture of our society.

How could he be so dumb? Sure, his family members had met me, but to him I was a total stranger. The man is a dumbo. It's a fact.

The second time I called him, I was buying him a ring. My mother made me do it. Although I called, actually speaking to him was the last thing I wanted to do. I quickly tried to give the phone to my mother, but she shot me a glaring look.

“Don't you dare to do that, Kriti, just talk to him and ask.”

Although I wanted to beg her to just take the phone, I held my tongue and quietly obeyed her. “Yes, Arnav ji,” I cleared my throat. “We are out here shopping, and mom wants to know if you want a gold ring or a platinum one for the engagement.”

“Either,” he said laughingly.

I nearly shouted into the phone. “What?”

“I said either.” This time he was more serious.

“Are you—” I was about to say 'are you nuts' but controlled myself.

“Am I what? Nuts?”

I was speechless. This person was already irritating me. We hadn’t even met yet and he was giving me a headache. Really.

“Wait,” he called before I could end the conversation, “just a minute. Before you hang up, tell me about your choice for the ring, too.”

I exclaimed, “oh! My ring?”

“Yes,” he said, “Maa will surely ask me about it, and I’ll be clueless.”

“Okay…”  I scrambled for words, my perfect ring, found after hours of scouring the web, completely escaped my mind.

“Come on Kriti ji, tell me what you want or you’ll complain about it after.”

I’ve always longed for a platinum one with three diamonds. Ever since I was fifteen, but I couldn’t collect the courage to tell him. I didn’t want to come off as a greedy, materialistic, bitch. I was sure he’d judge me.

“No,” I paused for a second with multiple thoughts running through my mind, and Mumma signaled me to choose from two different rings she had shortlisted. “It's not like that. I don't complain about anything. Just choose whatever you like.”

He let out a deep breath.  “Oh really? You don't complain about anything? Well, that's just wonderful.” He laughed a little before continuing, “then I must consider myself the luckiest man alive! I’ll be getting a wife who doesn’t complain about anything.”

“Yup, yes, never ever. Now can I please hang up? I have a lot to do.” I tried, too late, to keep the obvious irritation out of my voice.

“Yes Ma'am,” he said with amused indifference. But before he could laugh at me some more, I casually said goodbye and hung up.

I thought he was a devil. He is so, so, so irritating. And why on earth, can I not talk to him the way I boldly throw tantrums at the rest of the world? And is it always necessary for him to add that sarcasm crap to everything? My gaze fell upon my mother who was looking at me in amazement. I was lucky enough that my side of the conversation had been too quiet to be heard by anyone else, and as soon as our eyes met I smiled at her, hiding all my emotions. I trusted my mother and I know she tried her best for me with this, but at that moment, I had no faith that her choice had been the right one.

“Mumma, you can't do this to me,” I complained and she gave me a confused look. “Why is he so mean?”

She laughed, “No, sweetie, he’s not. Why do you say that?”

“Because he irritates me. From the very first time I spoke to him, he just ridicules me for everything I say.”

“You mean like how Apoorv does? Always teasing you for something?”

I wasn’t satisfied with that. “Mumma, Apoorv is different. He’s my friend, my school friend precisely. We’ve known each other for years. He can do that.”

 “And Arnav’s going to be your husband, how do you want him to talk to you? Should he be all serious and scare you even more? At least he’s trying to make you relax.”

I raised my eyebrows and was blown apart with the amount of justification my own mother was producing for her future son-in-law, as if she were his mother and not mine. I knew at that point that it was futile to complain to her.

“Kriti, see, he’s the best groom and has the best family we’ve found for you in the last two years. This family is far better than any of the other proposals. We’ve researched them all, and I’m sure that you’ll be treated like a real princess in that house. They have everything, and Arnav…he’s a gem who’ll complement my golden daughter perfectly. Just trust me and try to brush off these doubts of yours.”

I nodded looking into her eyes as I shook off the memories. We were married today in a traditional ceremony and here I was busy with a trail of thoughts. My eyes fell upon a cute, yellow flower pot on the nightstand and it pulled me back to the present. There was a large cupboard on the left side of the room. Beside the cupboard were my three suitcases. They had everything I owned in them. Everything I was allowed to take into my new life. On the front wall, to the right, there was a door. Probably the washroom. I wasn't sure and I couldn’t dig up enough enthusiasm to care. I was already scared by what my cousin who got married last year in the same arranged way, had told me about her first night. Although, she knew her husband a little bit and had been going on dates with him since the day her marriage was fixed. I felt strange. My family had given me plenty of lessons on how I should behave on the first night, but all that did nothing to quell my nerves.

Actually, I always panic about small things, however, this was something way too big for me to process and I decided I was allowed to panic at this moment. I’m still confused about whether marrying him was the right decision or not. It's not like it was actually my decision though. It was my mother's decision. I just did things according to my parent’s wishes. They asked me for formal consent in the beginning, but I wasn’t in a position to reject Arnav when my parents seemed to like him and his family so much. I don't know if I wanted to marry him or not. I think a mother’s decision though, cannot be wrong for her daughter.

Not only can I barely even speak to my husband, but he doesn’t seem to like me all that much either. A knock at the door shoved me back into this new room. This new house. This new life I still wanted nothing to do with.

“Aa jaaiye,” I called out to whoever was knocking to give them permission to come in.

I stood up from the bed as the door was unlatched and my husband walked in.