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|There was a melancholic poetry he could hear even behind her platonic smiles|

by medicallymessedup

•present•

I wordlessly watched Aryan walking away from me.

I pursed my lips in a thin line until his footsteps completely faded and I was finally abandoned to my loneliness.

The dam of my crimson tears that I was trying so hard to conceal from him at the end broke the barriers of my endurance and unbridled from their abode. The spasmodic quivers of my body were matchless to this yoke hammering down my guilt. My wobbly knees had given up the fight to stand long back and I had unknowingly slumped down against the wall.

I shut my eyelids to get rid of the gruesome memory but the pain in my chest grew ten folds when his tristful gaze appeared in front of my eyes. His disheartened stare splintered my peace like it happens to a broken glass showpiece. It felt as if my unguarded soul was set on flames that were capable of reducing my entire existence into ashes. The liability of his unmoving trust in me was clawing out my guts while I sat here like a wimp.

I don't blame him.

I cannot do it as I knew what he was going to say. It would be a shame on love if I deny his words anymore but I don't think that I had it in me to hear him admit it just yet. I dreamt of this one moment from the last three years but now when it actually came, it felt like a mirage. I wanted it as much as him but still destroyed our golden souvenir with my own hands because Aryan was here to be mine but I was sure that I could never become his.

This was our condescending reality.

For me, getting tied down in a relationship was neither planned nor easy. I went ahead with the proposal brought by my family to make them content but couldn't stop myself from falling for Aryan. The engagement ended unceremoniously and it badly affected everyone but I cannot accept Aryan in my life even when we're legally married.

Firstly, because I don't want to prove to this ruthless world that I'm some gold-digger who's behind the luxury of Malliks.

Secondly, because I don't want to encapsulate my father that I had turned out like my mother.

Thirdly, because I don't want to be the cause of distress for my dear ones.

Most of all, I don't want Aryan to regret having me in his life.

Amid my mordant detonation was a dormant fear. A chimerical fearfulness spiraling within me.

Hence, I am afraid of myself.

I had grown haphazardly skeptical and awfully scared knowing the emotional mess I could become for Aryan like I had been one since my birth for everyone else. I'm a burden who has been unwanted and unloved for all my life, though I am pretty used to it but I don't want the only man who I've ever loved so dearly to look down at me with pity. I don't want him to sympathize with my anomalous condition and make me conscious of the intrusive baggage that I always carry along with me.

He might hate me for this and maybe even disregard my love for him but he'd be happy in the future with someone who deserves him.

My heart is dwelling in agony in a sore realization that I might've hurt him now but a single thought gave me an unscrupulous amount of necessary peace. At least it will save the man I love from suffering the malady of a lifetime.

I couldn't help but lovingly caress the candescent veneer of the elegant yet minimalist platinum-gold ring that proudly adored my finger and shaped my existence with utmost care like he always does.

Forgive me if you can, Aryan.

🖤🖤🖤

The modest thumping on the door conked me out of slumber and left me aghast. The pills effectively knocked me out late at night or I might've lost my sanity by now. Nowadays, I'm used to being dependent on medications to forget the problems in my life.

The hushed voices continued and for sure this cannot be Aryan. I tiredly rub my face, undergoing a pure torture, well-versed with the fact that he would resent to see me after what I did to him. My head was still banging against its walls and nothing that second could help me except for the man himself.

"Please! Wait a minute." I told the person on the other end and got up on my foot with difficulty as a cramp hit me straight on the back. I adjusted the creases on my saree and marched ahead to unlock the door.

"Good Morning, Ma'am!" A polite tone greeted me, "I hope that none of us disturbed your sleep." Ms. Gauri, the household work in-charge asked me with a decent smile. "Ma'am, would you like to have your breakfast in the room itself or outside in the dining hall?

"I have just woken up, Ms. Gauri." Me being here is already a plot reversal to the people working in and around the mansion. I wonder if my stay in the walls of the room may raise undue rumors for Aryan and his family who are already grappling with a debacle. "I'll have it outside and.." I informed her and requested too, "Please, don't pile up your work because of me."

"Don't worry.." She genuinely talked to me, "It's our duty, Ma'am. And, we will arrange breakfast on the dining table in a while."

She turned to leave when I called her out, "Listen, Ms. Gauri-" Truthfully, I was conflicted with my own tongue as she waited for me to speak. "Is Aryan home?" I inquired hesitantly stirring in a dilemma about what I wanted to hear because either his absence will slam my heart or his presence will test my perseverance. "Sir returned back nearly an hour ago and usually he won't be up till noon."

I managed to bob my head at her and then retreat back inside the room. It's quite obvious that I need to learn to get used to Aryan's resentment if I am going to live in his house. I can do that, I hope.

After taking a bath I changed into a plain t-shirt and comfortable house pants. I was thankful to BadiMa who handed me a bag packed with some of my clothes and other toiletries while I was busy lamenting. I often turn blind to the people who care for me while grinding on my discomfort. I wonder how everyone was coping back at home?

I pensively raked down a hand through my wild mane. I don't have anyone to impress anymore and even if I look ugly, my external appearance does not matter. So, I roughly knot a braid and step outside the room being happy for once because I don't have to pretend to be someone who I am not.

As soon as I descended the staircase, the handful of employees scattered around, paused their work and looked up at me as if I was the eighth wonder of the world. Shortly, I started to feel conscious of my surroundings and accelerated in the direction of the kitchen.

I was busy ignoring the inquisitive glares cornering me by retaining my eyes on the ground when I knocked into Ms. Gauri. I would've fallen face first if not for her grasp on my arm. Even before I could thank her, my face paled in nervousness registering the undivided attention on me. I'm sure that they would be laughing behind my back.

I am a girl who can't even walk without being jittery. It's one of the reasons I can never fit in the role of Aryan Mallik's wife.

"Sir is in his room and I hope that you all know it." Ms. Gauri's rhetorical tone deterred everyone and they focused back on their jobs.

"Thank you, Gauri Didi!" I expressed within a shaky breath.

Gauri Didi was surprised for some awkward reason but still she treated my sincere gratitude with a welcoming smile. I wouldn't have been informal with her before but now I genuinely feel nice about her.

It's true to say that it takes just one incident to shape a humanitarian relationship.

Later, I followed her inside the kitchen without a word.

The professional cooks seemed dedicated and occupied. They were effectively cutting, prepping the food, and even cooking on several burners of multiple stoves. The sight was indeed funny and for a moment I believed that they're gearing up for a feast. Is that the everyday scenario here?

"It's pretty normal in Gulmohar." Gauri Didi clarified my muse and prompted me to settle on one of the eighteen faux leather chairs rounding the sophisticated dining table.

I sat down and my eyes instinctively explored the sight of every eye-catching and mouth-watering dish covering the vast spread table. Moong Dal Cheela, Cheese Egg Paratha, Sabudana Khichdi, Potato Curry along Hot Puris, Strawberry Banana Smoothie, Avocado-Mango Juice, and other things I can't name in a breath. It feels as if the organizers of this extravagant buffet knew everything that I liked to eat.

[Moong Dal Cheela - An Indian style spiced Mung Bean Pancake made with husked and split mung lentils.]

[Cheese Egg Paratha - Cheese Egg Paratha is basically a flat bread made with eggs and cheese.]

[Sabudana Khichdi - A pilaf made with sago/tapioca pearls.]

"Please, serve a plate for Ma'am." Gauri Didi instructed someone who was decorating the dishes.

"No, I-" The words failed me and a fishy stew soared up my mind.

"Don't you like it, Ma'am?" Gauri Didi questioned and I immediately shook my head, "It seems good but.." I was unsure to ask but did anyway, "Had someone told you to make all these?"

She opened her mouth to speak but then shut it close real quick. What I asked isn't rocket science. She composed herself asap and replied, "We have an approved menu for each day, Ma'am. We are just following it."

"Oh!" I sighed.

"But if you want to eat something else then you can inform us and we'll get it prepared for you."

"No..No.." I waved my hand at her and mentally slapped my brain for acting delusional for such a small thing, "It's more than enough and please call me by my name Gauri Didi."

She smiled and left me alone when I told them that I would serve myself. I didn't realize that I was starving until today except for the part where Ms. Mallik forced me to have something last night. I poured a glass of buttermilk and plated a bowl full of spicy looking aloo ki sabzi along with crisp fried puris. My stomach growled and the urge to fill my stomach grew more.

[Aloo ki Sabzi - Potato Curry without onion or garlic.]

[Puris - It is a traditional but simple unleavened bread made from whole wheat flour, salt, and water.]

I tore my first morsel and rolled my eyes at the heavenly taste of the food. My taste buds have been adapted to the dish since childhood but right now it tastes heavenly. The pleasure of standing in long queues of temples to be awarded by the prasada returned back with full force. Even in a family, the cook's love and devotion to become the reason for the smiles on the face of the people who consume the food is unmatched to any other worldly avocations. Something, no matter what, never grows old.

[Prasada - Prasada is vegetarian food especially cooked for devotees after praise and thanksgiving to a god.]

I was about to dump another bite in my salivating mouth when the unknown smile on my face dropped like an apple on Newton's head. A child's parents often cooks to satisfy the cravings of their little one but unfortunately I was awful in that field as well. I have scarce memories of my Mummy but Papa even after owning a catering business never cooked for me. The bitterness dissolved in my mouth and I was a second away leaving my meal halfway when a familiar voice appalled me.

I ended up strangulating my wind pipe but the rim of a glass of water was pushed close to my lips immediately.

"Shit!! I am s-sorry!!" He repeated on a broken record until I gained back my breath and appeared stable.

"Fuck!" He cursed, "Do you feel better now?"

No, I do not. Thanks to his highness.

"Isn't it a courtesy to have breakfast with your husband? Or at least wait for me, wifey?" Aryan asked, taking a chair beside me after he was sure that I was fine, "Ah, what a first morning after our marriage it would be-" He went on while I happened to glare at him saliently.

Wasn't he going to wake up in the afternoon?

"What do you want?" I asked tersely while chewing on my few next praiseworthy bites. Who made this food? Can I kiss the cook's hand?

But seriously I can't predict his mood. He was gawking at me as if I were some newborn. I might be a messy eater but not exactly elegant enough for being the front cover of some food advertisement.

In response to my query, Aryan gave me one of his dimpled wicked smiles.

Don't melt on his cuteness, Baby.

Remember that he should not catch you posing as his lover. You can't make his life a living hell, like you did with everyone else's.

"You! I want you." He said and I accidentally nibbled on my lower lip. I hissed audibly while Aryan broke into a sinistrous laughter, cleverly enjoying my state. What kind of psychotic fun does he get by putting me in awkward situations?

"You're really absurd."

"And you're so easy to rile up, Baby." He simpered like a maniac and gloated, "I won't regret letting you in my life ever because you'll always keep me entertained." He said in between his irritating giggles. "You're my unpaid magician."

"Well, I hope you too know that you're my unpaid clown." I snapped. He blinked his gleaming eyes at me and prepared a morsel from my plate. I slapped his hand away in anger, "Pagal ho gaye ho kya? Yeh plate meri jhooti hai."

["Have you gone mad? I was eating from this plate."]

"I don't mind sharing." He still ate from my plate amidst my constant protests, "Shaadi ke baad kya mera-kya tera karna?" He gulped and asserted, "Sab apna hi to hai."

["After marriage, what is mine or what is yours? Everything is ours."]

My eyes widened in surprise. What's wrong with him? He was behaving as if nothing happened, like I didn't treat him like a culprit or even trash-talked him. Why was he acting so casual and so-damn persistent about using these cheeky husband-wife titles?

He was not taking notice of my words so I begrudgingly served a plate for him and organized everything in an adequate amount on it. He was busy babbling things when I kept the plate in front of him and motioned him to eat from his own plate.

"I hope Mom has introduced you to the necessary house help?" He asked me next and I responded to him with a blank nod. "Good. You took a tour of Gulmohar then?" I kept mum but he was excited like a kid, "How did you find our abode then? For obvious reasons, I named it Gulmohar." He prodded, "You must've not overlooked the garden yesterday. C'mon, let me show you now.."

"Enough!!" I interrupted him rudely, "I am not your guest-"

"Of Course not. I know, you're my wife." He stated.

Why can't he get over it?

"Did you forget what I told you last night?" I demanded being forced to press on the matter much against my heart because he was unaffected, "This marriage is a temporary deal. Don't keep any expectations from it nor from me. I'm here because of my family and not because I-"

Aryan held my arm and carted me closer instead. The words failed me as his eyes seized mine. The frenzy resurfaced once again because only he had the power to gaze into an eclipsed part of my soul. A pristine but scarred annexe that's veiled by a mask of pure vulnerability. No one ever tried to read the story behind those blemishes except him.

They are probably detested to face the ugly side of my existence. The real me. But Aryan Mallik had already unraveled the layers I skillfully masked so far. It's exhilarating and petrifying for me at the same time because I am severely failing to keep up with this facade of nonchalance in front of Aryan who has unknowingly become my shadow.

"I don't know what our marriage means to you but I've wholeheartedly accepted this marriage and taken you as my wife." He declared causing my breath to hitch, "I won't have any expectations from you but I want you to know that I won't give up on us until my last breath."

Lots of Love,

ANKITA