Spoiled • 18+ • Arranged Marriage Story

Thirty One

For a man who said that this would be over in a few days, Siddharth realised how worse it was that he was behaving clingy and absolutely besotted with her.

It was so easy to act like he hadn't said it or he didn't mean it. Like that day never happened. He thought, no, he wished that it could go on like that forever. But while watching the news, when the lockdown seemed to be extended, that was when he realised that they both were living in a fantasy bubble.

And at the end of the day, it was exhausting to pretend that he didn't see her kissing another man. Hot blood rushed to his ears even now when it flashed before his eyes. It was Priya who wanted to talk to him about something. And when they entered the reading room, he couldn't even believe he was seeing what he was seeing. He imagined all sorts of scenarios, he imagined that he might be dreaming or hallucinating . Even if it was real, he argued, maybe she was forced.

But she wasn't, she admitted herself that she wasn't. She was willing, she said. He felt like he would go crazy in police custody when he couldn't escape the imagery. Everytime he closed his eyes, it would flash in his mind - Her lips on his and his on her, her hands on his chest. The place that belonged to him.

And after everything, he asked her. He wished and he prayed, he bloody prayed to every God in existence that she tell him that she was forced, she didn't want to kiss that bastard, that she would apologise and ask him for forgiveness.

She didn't.

He told her it was over and she said nothing. When she came to him that night, he took her in. He was a mortal, he was so weak when it came to her. He made her say that she was his and she did and she said some more. She said that he was hers. That was what pushed his soul into ecstacy. He did belong to her. From that day on New Year's till the day he would die, he realised that he would only belong to her.

It was so easy to live in that romantic bubble for the past few days. She didn't apologise, nor did he force her to. A while back which seemed eons ago, she had asked him what he would do if she has lovers on her own, he had told her that, he couldn't stop her, he could only decide whether he was okay with it.

The fantasy shattered when the lockdown had extended. And he came to a startling realisation that he was okay with it. He was okay with her kissing that asshole. He was okay with everything. He could go on ignoring that day never happened. He could do all that. He could because he loved her. He loved her so much, he realised. He would've forgiven her even if he had caught them having sex. That was the extent of his madness for her.

And he realised that he deserved none of it. He felt nauseous at the pathetic state of his feelings. He would forgive her even if he found some other man with her? How pathetic was that? How depraved was he that he would take that? It was as if his whole existence was screaming at him that he was a void of nothing. He belonged to no one and he was a nobody. He wasn't a son, his parents had died. And he wasn't a husband to her too because she would rather put her mouth on that bastard than then tell him anything. He was no one to anyone.

His chest clenched and he could feel warm tears fill his eyes and he squeezed them shut pushing the rivulets down the corners of his eyes.

Now that he was in his room, he could hear the scratches of her feet outside his door. He listened to the door knob turn, he had locked it. That was the only way he could keep himself safe. If he saw her, he would forget and forgive again. He would forget that he was nothing to her and to anyone for that matter.

He could already feel himself give in, when she knocked on the wood urgently. He knew what she was here for. Since a fortnight she would slip in his bed at night and he would wait for her and then they would make love. A sour laugh escaped his lips and he tasted salt. Make love? There was no love from her. It was just sex for her.