“Priya, let’s talk.” Aman suggested.

            Priya gave Aman a questioning look.  He walked over to the sofa, where Priya was seated.  He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. 

            “We’re married,” he said, stroking the wedding ring that adorned Priya’s finger, “and we don’t even know each other, so let’s talk.”

            “Okay. Let’s talk.” Priya answered with a smile.  She was genuinely curious about her husband.  She only knew basic details about Aman, only what was required to be known to fix their alliance.  She wished to know his views and his opinions, his likes and dislikes, and more about his past, but didn’t feel it was right to raise any questions.  She felt relieved when Aman suggested that they talk to get to know each other better. 

            “So what was your life like in India before we got married?” asked Aman.

            “I woke up in the morning and made everyone breakfast.  I usually visited the temple before going to class.  I’d come home and study and spend time with Ma and Payal. And that’s it.” Replied Priya.

            “Wow. You cooked. No wonder.” Said Aman, referring to Priya’s large breakfast spread.  Priya’s lifestyle perplexed Aman.  She was the daughter of such a renowned and wealthy businessman, but lived such a simple life.  His lavish lifestyle was full of luxury.  Priya was completely his opposite. 

            “What did you study?” Aman continued with the questions. 

            “Politics and Sanskrit,” answered Priya.  Priya began to fiddle with the end of her sari.  She was becoming impatient. She wondered when Aman would give her a chance to ask him questions. 

            “And any boyfriends?” Aman continued. 

            Priya looked down.  She was not expecting Aman to ask about her love life.  She was raised with a traditional background.  Though her father was a forward thinking man, he never made an effort to establish rules about dating or boys.  Priya, however, always believed that dating was unnecessary in a society dominated by arranged marriages.  There was a boy in one of her classes that she had fancied.  She’d even befriended him, but never let the relationship go any further than that.  She decided it best to withhold this information from Aman.

            “No. I never had any boyfriends.” Answered Priya quietly.  Aman was unexpectedly relieved. Before Priya answered his question, Aman felt a creeping sense of jealousy overcoming him.  He knew he shouldn’t have any inhibitions about Priya’s past, but he couldn’t help but feel possessive over her.  The thought of her being with another man in her past didn’t sit well with him.   Aman smiled to himself, knowing that Priya was his and only his. 

            “And you? Any girlfriends?” asked Priya.

            Aman’s smiled immediately faded.  He should’ve known that his question would come back to bite him.  He hesitated for a moment.  Should he tell Priya about his promiscuous ways or the dozens of girls that have walked into and out of his life?  He couldn’t tell her he hadn’t had any girlfriends. That would be an outright lie.  However, he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. 

            “Yes,” Aman replied, “I’ve had girlfriends before.”

            He watched Priya’s expression.  She looked visibly saddened by his response but did a good job at trying to conceal her dismay.  He was surprised she didn’t push any further, prompting him to explain his past relationships. 

            “Oh.” Was all she said. Priya promptly stood up and made her way to the staircase.  Aman was shocked at her sudden departure.  Without a second thought, he followed behind her.  She had already made it back to her bedroom, but hadn’t closed her door. Aman stepped inside.  Priya sat on her bed, her back towards Aman. 

            “Priya? Are you alright?” Asked Aman slowing walking closer to the bed. 

            “I’m fine.” Answered Priya without even bothering to turn around. 

            “You asked, and I was honest.” Explained Aman. 

            “No. I know. I’m not upset.” Priya still wouldn’t turn around.  Part of her knew that someone like Aman would have past girlfriends though she had hoped otherwise.  She wondered how Aman’s girlfriends were, if he preferred pretty girls or smart ones or modern ones.  She couldn’t help but feel insecure.  Maybe just maybe she wasn’t quite good enough for Aman. 

            “Priya.”  Aman sat beside her on the bed.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

            “Nothing.” She replied.  She couldn’t tell Aman about her insecurities.  She didn’t want him to see her as weak. 

            Aman sighed.  He decided it would be best to change to subject. 

            “Tomorrow we have to attend a party in the evening.  It’s a business dinner.  I’ve scheduled an appointment for you at one of New York’s finest spas. You might want to buy a new dress, some shoes, jewelry, whatever you need.”  Aman said. 

            This time Priya did turn around.  She seemed puzzled. 

            “A spa appointment? Why?” she asked.

            “To get ready for the party.  They have all types of beauty treatments. Waxing, facials, massages, whatever else women need to be beautiful.” Aman grinned.  He hoped Priya would enjoy a little relaxation. 

            “Thank you.” Priya replied. “Most husbands wouldn’t send their wives to a spa unless it was a special occasion. I get to go during a regular day.”

            “You’re welcome, Priya.” Aman said. 

            Aman and Priya continued with their questions, careful not to touch on any controversial subjects or uncomfortable topics.  Once the day was done, they each were familiar with each of one another’s likes and dislike.  They felt like they’d known each other for ages even though, in reality, they’d only known each other for a few days. 

            “Well, I think I’d better retire for the night. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” Stated Aman. “Oh and Priya, you don’t need to make breakfast anymore. We have a chef and maids.  You don’t need to do anything anymore.  In fact, I’d prefer that you don’t.” he said as he walked towards the door.

            “But what should I do all day?” asked Priya. 

            “Anything you want.  Take up a new hobby, relax, go out.   Just don’t clean anything or cook. No wife of mine should be doing any household chores.”  Aman replied.  He shot Priya a wide smile, showing that he was being sincere. 

            “Alright.”  Priya replied.  She wasn’t entirely sure why Aman didn’t want her doing any chores, but she didn’t question it.  Priya’s mother had always told her that she would need to know how to prepare a variety of meals, how to raise children properly, and how to keep a house neat in order to stay in her husband’s good graces, but here Aman was telling her that none of the above was necessary. 

            “And here.” Said Aman, holding out a platinum credit card.  “It’s yours for whatever you need.”

            Priya took the card.  It had his name on it.  She smiled.  Aman Verma. And she was now Priya Verma. Mrs. Aman Verma.  Priya liked the sound of that. 

            “Goodnight!” Aman called from the hallway.  He had left before she had a chance to thank him again. 

            The next day, Aman woke up early.  He had a lot of work to catch up on and decided to go to his office early.  He was relieved to find that Priya had heeded his advice and slept in, instead of waking up to prepare breakfast for him.  A smile crept on Aman’s face as her remembered the amazing breakfast spread she had prepared the morning before.  He hated Indian food for breakfast, but he would eat anything Priya made without a complaint.  Maybe he was wrong to ban her from cooking. 

            Priya woke up a few hours after Aman had left.  Her mind drifted to her impending spa appointment.  Needless to say, she was excited.  Clad in a simple, blue salwar kameez, she made her way down the stairs.  Kamla hurried up to her. 

            “Ma’am, Sir left these for you.” She stated.  She held out several papers with information about the spa including the time of the appointment and the address.  Priya looked through them, paying special attention to the various treatments and services offered.  Most of them seemed unnecessary to Priya.  Why do women go through such lengths to feel beautiful?

            “Would you like some breakfast? I’ll have the chef prepare whatever you’d like.” Offered Kamla.

            “No. It’s fine.” Priya replied, most of her attention still focused on the papers in her hand.

            “Yes ma’am.  The driver is waiting whenever you’re ready to go.” Said Kamla.

            “Oh okay,” Priya walked towards the door.  She was surprised to see a black limousine waiting for her in the driveway.  

            “Is this really necessary? I limo just to take me to the spa…” Priya turned to Kamla. 

            “Sir’s orders.  The driver was instructed to take you wherever you want to go to the spa, boutiques, wherever.” Kamla answered. 

            Priya sighed as she stepped towards the driver, who was holding open her door.  She sat inside after quickly thanking him.  He drove her to the spa first, where Priya encountered some rather eccentric women who gushed over how great it must be to be young and newly married.  After hours of tweezing and waxing and other forms of meticulous primping, Priya was glad to be back in the comforts of the limousine. 

            “Ma’am, where to now?” asked the driver.

            “Oh…um…I need to go shopping, I think.” Priya said.  She explained how one of the eccentric women she met in the spa, who happened to be Indian, told her about a boutique that sold designer saris.  She couldn’t quite remember where it was, but once she told him the name, the driver immediately recognized it.

            Priya shopped for a few hours.  She enjoyed being out on the streets of New York City alone.  Since she had often braved the streets of Mumbai by herself, the streets of New York seemed like child’s play compared to the chaos that occurred in India.  She took pleasure in her new sense of independence and the amount of freedom Aman allowed her. 

            After a long day of shopping and primping, Priya heaved a great sigh of relief as she entered Aman’s mansion.  The day had been hectic, and the actual event is yet to come.  Priya hurried upstairs to her bedroom.  She had two hours before Aman was expected to be back.  She eyed the sari she had just purchased.  She spent abundant amount of time sifting through the many designer saris the boutique had before she finally found this one.  It was perfect in every way.  It was a light shade of pink with the heavier embroidery than anything else in the store.  The blouse had lace sleeves that reached the elbow and a sweetheart neckline.  The sari itself had a modern design, unlike anything Priya had worn in India.  It was snug from her hips to her knees showing off her curves.  There were pleats right below the knee causing the sari to flare slightly at the bottom.  The saleslady had referred it as a “mermaid style” sari and told her that the style was more popular in the foreign market rather than the Indian one. 

            It didn’t take long for Priya to get ready.  She had gotten her hair and makeup done already and simply needed a few touch ups.  Her hair was done up in a sophisticated up-do.  Her evening-appropriate makeup was heavier than what she was used to, but she was confident Aman would approve.  Priya hadn’t bought any new accessories or shoes as Aman had suggested, deciding to wear ones she had brought with her from India.  She felt guilty about her excessive use of Aman’s credit card.  The sari hadn’t been cheap and neither was her little visit to the spa and not to mention the pricey lunch she had had before coming home.  She thought it wise not to waste any more of Aman’s money. 

            Priya scrutinized herself in the mirror.  She definitely looked like Aman Verma’s wife.  She was sure that she could compete with the rest of the glamorous wives of the wealthy businessmen of New York.  Priya’s phone began to ring.  Breaking her gaze away from the mirrior, Priya searched for her phone.  She quickly answered it after locating it. 

            “Hello.”

            “Priya, it’s Aman.” Aman’s voice sounded distracted as if his concentration were elsewhere rather than on this conversation.  “Listen, I’m running late.  Have the driver bring you to my office and we’ll leave together from here. Okay?”

            “Sure.” Priya replied. 

            “Are you ready?”  asked Aman, still sounding distracted. 

            “I am.  I’ll leave right now.” She answered promptly. 

            “Great. See you in a bit.” Aman quickly hung up before she could reply.  Priya dismissed it.  He must have been really busy. 

            The driver informed Priya that Aman’s office was about half an hour away and that the party venue was a swanky hotel just a few minutes away from his office.  The limo stopped in front of an entirely too tall skyscraper.  The driver held open the door as Priya stepped out of the limo, careful not to get tangled in her sari.  He followed her inside and informed the lady at the front desk that “the boss’s wife” was here to meet him.  Priya was led up to the top floor by a slightly disgruntled middle aged secretary, who tried her best to put on a polite façade in an effort to please her boss’s wife. 

            Priya knocked on the door and waited for a reply before entering.  She saw Aman seated at a large desk intensely staring at a computer screen.  He was dressed in a very fancy tuxedo.  His neat appearance seemed out of place sitting behind the untidy desk, which had papers strewn all about.

            “Aman.” Priya attempted to get his attention. 

            “Priya, just give me a minute.  We’ll leave a little while.” Aman said quickly.  His eyes never left the computer screen.  Priya took this moment to look around his office. It was rather larger with a huge window that contained quite the view of New York City.  There was seating area off to the side.  Priya felt the urge to wait on the very comfortable looking sofa while Aman finished up his work, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the window.  She gaped at the city lights, complete in awe of their beauty. 

            She turned her attention back to Aman.  He had stopped staring into the computer screen and was now looking down while shifting through some papers.  His eyes flickered up.  He briefly glanced at Priya before turning back to his papers.  Suddenly, Aman looked up again.  His eyes slowly traveled the length of Priya’s body.  Priya felt shy under his gaze.  As soon as Aman’s eyes reached Priya’s face, he stood up and made his way from around the desk in one swift movement.  He rapidly walked up the Priya.  His expression stayed stern the entire time.  Priya instinctively took a step back. Aman looked her over one more time. 

            “What the hell are you wearing?” anger was apparent in his voice. 

            “I…” Priya was shocked.  She was at a loss for words.  This was not the reaction she was expecting. 

            “I told you to buy a dress. An evening gown, Priya, not a sari! This is a very important party.  I needed you to look perfect.” Aman yelled.  He did nothing to hide his anger.   

            Priya felt tears forming in her eyes.  She looked down, ashamed with herself for angering Aman. 

            “This isn’t India, you know.  You can’t just walk around the city in a sari like it’s normal.  Maybe you should update your wardrobe, adopt a more Westernized look.   You are my wife, Priya. You have an image to live up to.  So far, you’ve failed.”  He was no longer shouting at her, but the maliciousness of his tone was all too apparent. 

            Priya thought back to all the hours she spent getting ready, all the time in the spa, all of the time she spent finding what she thought was the perfect outfit.  Suddenly her confidence was reduced to nothing.  She thought Aman would be elated by her transformation from a Plain Jane into a glamour queen, but sadly that wasn’t the case. She no longer felt that she could compete with the wives of all of the other businessmen. She no longer felt that she was worthy standing in the same room as Aman let alone accompanying him to an elegant party. 

            “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think th-” Priya started.

            “That’s right. You didn’t think.  Dammit Priya!” Aman interrupted exasperatedly. 

            A single tear escaped Priya’s left eye.  She lifted her hand to wipe it away before Aman could notice.  Too late.

            “Don’t. Don’t you dare start crying.” He said harshly.  “We need to leave otherwise we’ll be late.”

            Priya wiped away the tear and made every attempt to prevent herself from crying any further.   Aman walked out of his office and proceeded down the hallway without even waiting for Priya.  Priya took a deep breath and silently followed behind Aman.  She climbed into the back of the limo and settled down next to Aman.  He had what seemed like a permanent scowl etched onto his face. Priya couldn’t bring herself to look at Aman.  An uncomfortable silence fell between them as the limo drove towards the hotel.  This was going to be one hell of a party. 

Okay.  There we go! A longer chapter! Honestly that took TOO long to write.  Sorry it was just Priya’s day to day activity until the end.  Aman was so mad…

The next chapter (or the one after that depending on how much I write) will have some solid drama though.

(Priya’s gorgeous sari is pictured to the right. How could Aman hate it?!)

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