The Arrangement

Chapter Seven: The Compromises We Make

Vivaan didn't reply to that, instead he looked at me and said, "My father wanted to talk to me... about you."

I straightened. "What did he say?"

Vivaan ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the bed. "I'll take you out in an hour. We'll go and find some kameez or sarees- whichever you prefer. We can also borrow some of my mothers sindoor."

I stared at him. A sindoor was a red powder that Indian women put in their hairline as a symbol of marriage. I had seen Jayanti have some in her hair, and Vivaan had put some in my hair during our wedding ceremony, but I had washed it off this morning.

Vivaan continued talking, "Where is your mangalsutra?"

I swallowed. I had taken it off last night with my other jewelries, not giving it much thought either. "In the bathroom," I whispered.

A mangalsutra was a necklace the groom put on the bride during the ceremony. It meant 'auspicious thread', a unitification of the two souls. But if it was the two souls being united, then why was the bride the only one who wore it?

"He wants you to wear it everyday, along with the sindoor. We'll be inviting more of our family over, have you get to know everyone." Seeing the look on my face, Vivaan added softly, "It's what he wants."

A proper Indian daughter-in-law. That's what Darshan wanted. One with a collar around her neck, one that rolled over when he said so.

"No."

Vivaan frowned. "I'm sorry?"

My hands curled into fists. "I said... no. I'm not doing it. Any of it. I married you because my parents wanted it, I left my home and moved here, I'm doing my best to be your wife. But I am still my own person and I am not going to play dress up for him!"

"Aditi, please, lower your voice." Vivaan stood and held up a reassuring hand, glancing at the door as if he were afraid his father was standing on the other side.

"Let's go to your place," I pleaded, stepping closer to him. "Please. Let's move out of here."

"We can't."

"Why?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. After a moment, he put a hand on my shoulder. "Look, come with me, buy some clothes, and then I'll tell you everything."

I shook my head. "You're lying."

"I will never lie to you, Aditi. Please, do this for me." I gritted my teeth, then nodded. He took a deep breath at that. "Thank you. Let's go right now."

We grabbed our things and left the house, not before the guests made a few more comments about us.  I silently got in Vivaan's car. Something caught my eye in the backseat. There were several paintings sitting there of beautiful faces, birds in flight, a sunset, landscapes. A particular one caught my eye, a young Indian girl wearing a bridal outfit. I almost expected it to be me, but the girl was someone else, looking down shyly, her hair falling in long, loose waves as she gathered her skirts and stepped forward, as if she was approaching her groom.

"Are these yours?" I asked. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," he said. When I looked at his face, though, he wore a pained expression.

We drove to a shopping mall that didn't look like much from the outside, but the inside was bigger then any mall I had ever been to in America. It had three floors of shops, with large banners running from the glass roof above to the ground. A water fountain sat in front of the entrance. The place was beyond crowded. Several escalators ran from one floor to the other. I shifted closer to Vivaan, suddenly afraid of getting lost.