By afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore.
I spent the last couple of hours sticking by Jayanti's side, nodding and smiling along with the other aunties. They sipped tea, snacked on samosa and gulab jamun, and gossiped about everyone.
Did you see Gaurav's daughter-in-law? She was wearing a skirt that barely covered her thighs.
I heard Ishaan's son started going drugs.
Yesterday I found out my neighbors seventeen-year-old daughter is pregnant. How shameful!
A fly could land in one of their teas and they'd spend the next hour talking about the audacity of the bug.
I asked my New Mom if she needed help with lunch. Turns out all that food had been cooked so that it would last all day, and no more cooking would need to be done. I took a breath of relief and excused myself. Several of the woman immediately turned their attention to me when I stood up and demanded to know where I was going. I hastily lied that I was going to get ready to go out with Vivaan. At that, they began to croon.
"Oh, she wants to look good for her new husband!"
"Excited for your first date, huh?"
I forced a smile and went upstairs as fast as I could. In the peace and quiet of our room, I sighed deeply and sat on the bed. I found my phone on the bedside drawer and held onto it. I was tempted to call my mother, to call Farhan, to check my social media, but I knew they were all bad decisions.
Instead, I laid down across the bed, hoping to sink into a nap and wake up with a clear mind. No sooner then I had done that, I heard the door open downstairs. The voices of the aunties rose as they became more excited. My heartbeat picked up and I sat up. A familiar voice replied to their greetings. I waited, my palms now sweating, but no one came up. Minutes passed, and I started to wonder what was taking him so long. Finally, I heard footsteps come up the stairs. There was a tentative knock at the door.
"Come in," I said, my voice quiet.
Vivaan stepped inside, and his appearance surprised me. His hair was just as messy as mine usually got, sticking out stylishly in a few places. I noticed a few light brown streaks running through his hair, complimenting his golden skin tone. He was dressed in a black shirt, its sleeves folded up to his elbow, revealing a tatoo that covered one him arms. And he also had... an eyebrow piercing?
I was at a loss for words as I stared at him. He shut the door behind himself and looked at me as if he wanted to say something, but I quickly cleared my throat and fumbled to speak.
"This is your room too," I said. "You don't have to knock."
Vivaan offered me a polite smile in repsonse.
Like a stranger, I couldn't help but think.
"How was your day?" he asked, still standing near the door, as if he wished to escape.
I tried not to feel offended and shifted. "It was... different." I met his eyes meaningfully. "And yours?"
"A lot of work," he sighed. Finally, he came closer, taking out his wallet and phone to put on the beside drawer.
"Where did you go?"
His head turned my way, but he didn't look at me. "I went to get my stuff."
"From where?"
"From my other place."
"Why?" I couldn't help but ask. I stood up. "Did you do it for me? I could've come with you." Heck, anything to get away from this place.
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.
"Let's start there," he said, pointing to a shop nearby that had beautiful, silk sarees on display at the window.
I followed him inside, where he gestured for me to look around. I wordlessly obeyed and headed to the kameez section, there were several ones on display that I loved, but they were more fit for weddings then everyday wear. Weddings or other festivities were usually the only time I wore Indian clothes, so it was difficult not to drift to the detailed festive outfits that I ogled.
I found a sale rack with simple kameez on them and rummaged through that. They were simple, sure, but also boring. I sighed, knowing I should just buy one and get it over with. Vivaan stuck by my side for a while until he broke off and walked away. I figured he was over my indecisiveness until he came back holding an outfit.
"I figured you might like this one." He held it out for me.
It was a black kameez, with glittering black lace and a deep red scarf and pants. It was simple, but the lace added a touch to it that made it different. "It's pretty," I said, taking it from him. "Thank you."
"Do you want to try it on?"
"Sure." We headed to the fitting rooms in the back. I stepped inside, turning to glancing at Vivaan before closing the curtain on him. Surprisingly, it seemed he had managed to choose the right size. The pants fit well, and the kameez slipped around me easily, but I wouldn't be able to tell until I hooked the back up. I reach behind and began to clasp them together, only to find that one of the hooks had clung onto my bra.
"Shit." I tugged at it, trying to get it off. I couldn't reach high enough to get it out either. "Vivaan?" I called, hoping he was nearby.
His reply came immediately from the other side. "I'm here."
"Can you... can you help me?"
I pulled the curtain aside and peeked out at him. "The hook is stuck. I can't reach."
Vivaan hesitated, then stepped towards me. I opened the curtain the rest of the way for him to come inside. Suddenly, the fitting room felt too small. He stood right in front of me, looking down at me as he pulled the curtain close. He studied me for a moment, and I couldn't tell what he was looking for. I swallowed and turned my back to him, knowing he was about to see my tattoos.
He'd see them at some point anyway.
I felt his hands pause after they rested on the hook. I'd stopped breathing, waiting. A second later, his fingers brushed against my bare skin. I couldn't help but stiffen. He froze again, as if waiting for me to move away, when I didn't, he continued running his fingers across my skin, tracing my ink.
"I didn't know you had these," he murmured. I didn't say anything. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "Aditi," he sighed. "I know you have to become someone else when you're with my parents. But I don't want you to feel like that with me. You're-you're going to spend the rest of your life with me. I want to get to know you, and I want you to know me." He sighed again and leaned closer. "I promise, once everything gets better, we'll go somewhere else. We'll find our own place."
I wasn't capable of speaking in that moment. I turned around, considering his words. He was handsome, I knew that. And he was a good man. My eyes flicked to his mouth and I once more thought that love could be possible between us. It had to be possible.
I reached up on my toes and planted my lips against his. This time he was the one to stiffen. When he didn't break away, I sank deeper into the kiss. His fingers trailed down my spine, and I couldn't help but shiver again. His other hand cupped my cheek. It was longer then our last kiss, and I felt something stir inside me. It gave me hope. I could love him. I could make him mine, and I could be his. We would-
He broke away first, a stunned expression across his face.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "Did I do something wrong?"
Vivaan shook his head. "No. No. It was me. I'm sorry." There was that pained expression on his face again. Without another word, he left.
I stood there, trembling. I couldn't understand what was happening between us. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I refused to cry.
After some struggle, I managed to get the hook out myself and changed back to my clothes. I went to the counter and bought the black kameez, then went to find Vivaan. He was sitting at a table in front of the café, staring down at his phone.
"Here." I dumped the bag with the clothes in front of him. "I bought one. Now I want to know."
I placed myself in the seat across from him and folded my arms, waiting. Vivaan regarded me uneasily for while. "I want to be an artist," he started. "My parents were always against it. They were against everything I wanted. I finally saved up enough money to move out and find my own place, but it didn't work out. I couldn't make enough money selling my art. The landlord threatened to kick me out." Vivaan shook his head. "I should've looked for a job. Instead, I tried to make better paintings, tried everything to sell more of them. In the end... it wasn't enough. I didn't have enough money to find another place, so I came back to my parents. They said they'd let me move back in if I got married and sorted my life out." He shrugged. "So, I agreed. I told them I'd marry whoever they wanted me to. I'd get a 'proper' job and learn to be their good son."
Seeing the look on my face, Vivaan leaned forward. "I liked you, Aditi. I didn't marry you just because I didn't have another choice."
I surprised both of us by laughing. "Choice. Neither of us had a choice. Don't you see? Our marriage was just a compromise for both of us."
My hands were shaking again. This was going to be my life now. I was stuck in a loveless marriage. Vivaan would never want me, and why should I pretend to be any different? With every breath, I could hear Farhan's named being whispered in my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it back.
"I got caught in bed with a Muslim," I said bitterly, glaring at Vivaan. "You talk about choice. Do you know what happens to girls when they bring dishonor to the family? Have you every heard about honor killings?" Vivaan paled. I nodded. "My mother told me- it's either marriage, or she tells my father what happened. It was easy for her. Get rid of me before I bring shame to the family."
Our marriage had been empty words. One that benefitted him, and kept me far and safe from my father. Just a deal. Nothing more. Neither of us spoke again after that. I got to my feet, my chair scraping loudly behind me.
"I'm going," I said, leaving the bag with the clothes on the table. I heard him call after me, heard him get up to chase me, I let myself mix with the crowd, loosing myself from sight, and left the mall.
I caught a taxi from there. I had only one destination in mind, and my heart ached to go back to them, to pretend nothing had changed. A while later, I reached my uncle and aunties house. I banged on their front door. To my relief, it was my mother who answered. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
"Aditi?"
"Mom!" I cried, throwing myself into her arms. The familiar smell and feel of her was enough to make me break into a sob.
"Aditi, what are you doing here?"
"Please," I said. "Please, take me back home. I'll do anything you want! I won't see Farhan ever again. Just don't do this to me. Please!"
"Don't do this," she said, pushing me off so I could look at her. "You shouldn't have come back here."
"What's going on?" I heard another voice said.
We both turned. My father stood in the house, frowning at us. "Aditi? What are you talking about?"
"I-" I hesitated, wondering if he had heard me mention Farhan. "I don't want to be married," I whispered, fresh tears sprang to my eyes. "I can't do it."
Dad shook his head. "You are just scared because it's your first day. Come on. I'll take you back."
"No!" I cried, clinging to Mom again. I knew I was behaving like a child, but I couldn't stop either. "I'm not going back. I'm going home."
"Your home is there," Dad's eyes turned dark, pinning me under his gaze. "Stop behaving like this. You aren't our little girl anymore. You are a married woman." He reached out and pried me off my mother.
With a tight clasp around my wrist, he took me to the car and ordered me to get in. I gave my mom pleading looks, hoping she would stop him, but she didn't move. She just watched from the doorway, joined by my auntie a second later. Dad drove off with me and they disappeared from view.
"Wipe your face," he said. "Clean yourself up."
I sniffed and did as he said. "Don't leave me there, please."
He tsked. "You will get used to it, Aditi. You're the one who wanted to get married! Now why are you so scared? Did your mother or father-in-law scold you? They are your parents too now, they'll do things like that."
"They're not my parents," I snapped.
"Aditi. That is enough. Grow up. I won't have you bring shame to our family."
We reached Vivaan's house. Dad told me to get out of the car and took me to the front door and knocked. Jayanti was the one to answer it. By then, I was crying again, my face red and streaked with tears.
"What happened?" she asked, immediately reaching for me.
"Is Darshan here?" he asked.
I gasped. No. Please don't tell him. I looked at Jayanti with wide eyes. She glanced at me, then back in the house, before turning to him. "No. He's not home."
"Oh. Aditi here is just a little scared. It's her first time away from home. She's always been with us. She just needs to adjust." Dad was all politeness now.
"That's fine. That's okay," Jayanti said quickly. "Come. Let's get you cleaned," she said to me. She nodded a thanks to my dad, who turned and went back to his car without even glancing at me.
Jayanti closed the door and led me upstairs. "Darshan is outside with everyone. Let's get you in your room quickly."
I looked at her. "You-you won't tell him?"
She smiled. "He doesn't need to know. "
I was led into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Jayanti left to grab a wet towel and began to dab my face with it. "Now, tell me, what is the problem? You don't like it here?"
I sniffed and looked away, knowing I couldn't tell her the whole truth, but I could at least tell her how I felt. "I'm scared."
"Of us?"
There was so much concern in her voice, I couldn't help but meet her eyes. They were wide with worry. "No..."
She took my hand and smiled. "It always takes time to adjust to these kinds of things. Darshan and I had an arranged marriage too. I didn't get to meet him until the day of our marriage."
"That's terrible," I couldn't help but say.
She gave a small laugh, then leaned in. "That same night, I ran away."
"What?"
She nodded. "I told myself I wouldn't do it. That I had to have a choice. My father hunted me down and dragged me back home. My mother tried to talk some sense into me. She made me realize that... us woman have the strength to make compromises. We have to do these things because we are strong enough to."
I couldn't reply. She lifted a hand and cupped my cheek. "You'll learn to become a woman. To compromise. You'll learn to be happy. We'll take care of you, Aditi. Vivaan will take care of you."
With that, she gave a final, reassuring smile and left.
Compromise.
Is that what was expected of women? I comprised when I stayed home with my parents, when I said no to spending time with my friends because they didn't like it, when I got a job I didn't want, when I got married. Now I have to compromise for my in-laws. When did it stop? When I get to do that things I wanted?
I left the room to shut myself into one of the guests bedrooms, the one I had stayed in when I first arrived. I laid down on the bed and didn't get up, staring at the ceiling. Hours passed, Jayanti came back up to check on me. I didn't respond to her, I refused to listen to what she had to say after that. It was night by the time Vivaan came back. I could hear him and Jayanti speak, knew she was telling her everything. Vivaan didn't come to my room, I wasn't sure whether I was glad he didn't.
I fell asleep. The next morning, I didn't move. Once again, Jayanti tried to speak to me, by then, I had locked the door. I could hear Darshan's voice, demanding to know why I wasn't showing my face, heard Jayanti quietly explain that I was sick- something I must've eaten at my wedding.
My wedding. I reminded myself that I was married. For a while, I actually had hope that we could fall in love, that I could forget my old life. Now I realize that was never going to happen.
Another day passed. There was a hollow feeling in my stomach, whether from hunger or something else, I couldn't tell. On the third night, I sprang to life at a booming knock at my door.
I gasped and sat up, my heart racing. It was almost midnight, my room swathed in darkness. Everyone was asleep, so I wasn't sure who it could be until he spoke.
"Aditi. Open the door right now," Vivaan said.
I took a deep breath. Just the sound of his voice riled me up with anger. Gritting my teeth, I got up and opened it. Vivaan was a figure in the dark, tall and lean. He looked determined and, without waiting for me to say anything, stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself.
"How long are you going to do this, Aditi?" he asked. "How long are you going to feel sorry for yourself?"
I folded my arms and turned away from him. He grabbed my shoulders and made me face him.
"Look at me. I'm in this marriage just like you are. You don't think I had hopes? That I dreams of what my life would look like by now? It's all gone. You're not the only one struggling."
I glared up at him. "Your mother told me about compromising. That it's the only choice us women have."
"I don't know about that, but I know that we both need to compromise now." The fingers on my shoulder tightened and he leaned close. "We need to learn to be happy, to love each other. And we can't do that if we keep acting like strangers. You are my wife now. I'm your husband. We're going to spend our life together. It's time we start acting like it."
Before I knew it, he was kissing me. I made a sound of surprise. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me close until we were pressed together. I found myself kissing him back, my hands getting tangled in his hair. It was urgent and rough, and I realized we were both doing it more out of anger than love or fondness, still, we didn't stop. Our clothes were off in a blink. His mouth trailed along my jawline, down my neck. I pulled him closer, needing some kind of comfort.
Vivaan pulled away only to lift me up in his arms and take me to the bed.