The Arrangement

Chapter Twenty-Three: Stone-Hearted

When I didn't move, Vivaan strode towards me. I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but I found myself backing away. 

"Hey, hey." Farhan tried to get to his feet. "Vivaan, what are you doing?"

My husband stopped right in front of me until I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "She's dead because of you."

"I know," I whispered, nodding. "Don't you think I know that?"

"You knowing doesn't make any difference. It's not going to bring Sanjana back. If you had just listened from the beginning! If you had at least tried to be my wife instead of resisting everything."

"I did try!" I cried. "I tried to be your wife."

"You didn't try hard enough," Vivaan growled. "You decided from the beginning that you weren't going to be able to do any of it and so you didn't try hard enough. What did you do anyway?" He asked in a loathing voice. "Cooked a few meals? Screwed me?"

"Vivaan!" I glanced at Farhan who was coming towards us. 

He put a hand on his shoulder. "You need to stop this. You're drunk."

"Don't touch me," Vivaan slapped his hand away. "All of this happened because you came here and she kissed you. She kissed you in my house!"

Something flashed across Farhan's eyes. "I had come here because you told me to."

"If I remember correctly," I added, "you had trouble with this marriage as much as I did."

"Enough!" he shouted. "Just pack your things and get out, both of you!"

"Please," I said, lowering my voice. What would happen after we separate? My parents would take me back home and everything would go back to the way it was. Farhan and I would never be together again. The only difference would be that I would bring shame to my parents as a divorcee. "Please, don't do this."

"I've had time to think about it, and I've made up my mind." Vivaan turned away from us and added, "My dad was right to want an obedient and cultured wife for me. They wouldn't cause trouble."

And that last bit was enough for me. I backed away from him, stumbling a little in a daze. When I spoke, my voice was emotionless. "We'll be out of here in an hour. Farhan, let's start packing."

Farhan didn't move. "We're not going anywhere," he said. "I think you've forgotten that this apartment belongs to my uncle. If anyone is leaving, it's you. But Vivaan, you don't have to leave. We can work this-."

"I'll go pack my things then," Vivaan walked to the bedroom. When Sanjana had been here, he had slept on the couch, but his belongings had remained in the there. Vivaan stopped in front of the door to Sanjana's room, which Farhan had closed. I held my breath,  waiting for him to open it. His head was bowed, his fists clenched. After what felt like a minute, he lashed out, hitting the door with a fist. "Fuck!"

And then he was walking to the front door. "I don't need anything. I'm leaving."

"You're not thinking clearly," I cried, wishing he would stop and try to calm down. "Please- I." 

Vivaan pulled the door open, but froze in his tracks before he could make it out. Kunj and Darshan were standing on the other side. And they both wore a pleasant smile on their faces. 

This was the first time I was seeing Kunj after Sanjana's death. The sight of him made my heart pump with fear. There was no anger left in me. Just fear. I found myself backing away once again, wanting to hide in my room and curl up under my blankets. My hip bumped into the kitchen counter and I grabbed it for support.