The Rich Life

42

There were soft flakes of snow falling outside my window. My breath had fogged up the window because I was like a kid staring in wonder at this beautiful scene. A contrast to my rainy wedding all those years ago. 

It was hard, really hard, but I tried for Dad. For Adam. For Tony. And for everyone who loved me. The melancholy left me with a serenity that hadn't been there before, as if I learned a difficult lesson. But as they say, time heals wounds. 

They didn't talk about the ugly scars those wounds left. 

I'm fine now. I guess. I went under the care of Dr. Patel and talking with him genuinely helped. And when I looked down in the garden, around 3 months ago, when summer was fading away, I saw my brothers and my Dad play cricket. Along with Krish. Then I realised how loved I was and that everything had changed for the better. I smiled and thought about how I made it. 

I made it. 

Despite the culture that crushed me and forced me into a dark corner for half my life. Despite the abuse of the male figures in my family. Despite everything and anything that ever happened. 

Meena and Dad talked for a long time at my wedding. They spoke in low, hushed tones and I didn't want to eavesdrop or interrupt but afterwards, they were both beaming and she shyly introduced him to Diya and Zahid. 

"You look beautiful, Mrs Dervishi," Adam whispered, pressing his lips against my neck. I shoved him away. 

"You're not supposed to be here!" I exclaimed, "Are vows not sacred anymore? You're not supposed to see me before my wedding day,"

Adam adjusted his tie in the mirror, "That's what you said about the other 200 ceremonies before this," He grumbled, "We've had the wedding. This is a reception, purely for press,"

I turned to face him, brushing off the make-up artists, "I won't have half-measures with you, Adam," I told him, "I love you but I don't want to be cursed,"

He smiled, and it shone like the sun, going from the corners of his mouth to the crinkles of his eyes and I swear I melted. It felt like no time had passed since the very first day we met. Like we were still both immature fools taking a gamble at love and money. The most difficult test of love, especially when the other person is flawed. 

"Fine," He sighed, "I'll see you at the venue?" 

"Not unless I decide to elope at the last minute," I replied sweetly, "You have been doing my head in lately,"

"You do that and I swear to God no place on Earth will ever be safe for you," He warned. But we both burst into peals of laughter. 

I was dressed in a simple white dress, with a bouquet and high heels, because after the extravagant events of the previous wedding festivities, we wanted simplicity and elegance. He left me, not without winking. 

🗲

"Either you love me, or you don't love me. Either I am yours alone or I belong to nobody," I said quietly away from the watchful stare of the guests and the click of cameras going on in the background, "We've fucked in every sense of the word, don't leave me,"

He kept one eye on the crowd, "So it's forever or it'll go down in flames,"

"It's forever," I informed, my smile, sweet as poison, "Or I'll castrate you,"

"Even on our wedding day, your loveliness never ceases," He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "There's no mistakes here,"

I come from a place where women rarely married for love. But I had. I had found a man I had loved and married him for love. A lot of my relatives would say this was a mistake, and still, now, people are saying I'm making a grave mistake, but I would never suggest that what I did was a mistake. Everything we had done, was for the best.