Faasla

One

It took every cell in my body to hold back my tears, as I walked out of the wedding hall once I bid goodbye to my family. Right from my Grandma to my baby cousins - everyone was in tears.

Truth to be told, I was too tired for another breakdown. The entire week at home, I cried multiple times a day whenever my relatives brought up the thought that I'm going to fly out of my nest.

The mere thought of it was intimidating, and it still is. My comfort and heart resides nowhere, but at home, amidst my dad and my baby sister - Naira. My world starts, and ends, before them, and I honestly know nothing beyond that. I'm simply too attached to them.

Everyone consoled me with the fact that I'm still around Mumbai, and that I could meet them whenever I want. But deep down, I know things have began to change, and with responsibilities, the changes would be beyond my control.

"Don't worry about us. Naira and I are there for each other. You focus on your life", Papa holds my hand between his warm palms and advises me, and I force a smile at him, as a tear escapes from the corner of my eye. Even though he's trying so hard to stay strong, the sadness in his eyes draws my attention.

"All your medication - I've pasted it on the fridge, with the timings and doses. Don't miss them, ever. I'll call you daily to remind you", at that moment, it was the only thing I could think of. He smiles and turns away from me, focusing on him. Him. My legally wedded husband. It sounds so weird, but I cannot think of any other thing to label him with!

Right now, as we brawl our eyes out over my send-off, the Internet is going bonkers over The Darshan Raval's wedding. All his fangirls are probably spamming Twitter with all sorts of good, and terrible, things. Certainly, I'm the talk of the town right now - how did Rockstar Darshan Raval end up with a middle-class Kindergarten teacher?

I uninstalled social media from my phone, because being the insecure person that I am - I don't want people's judgements over me - and how I look - to mess with my head. I know for a fact that even though some people may have good things to say, the nasty hateful comments would snatch my sleep away from me.

I'm not built for this. I'm not built to deal with the consequences of being married to the nation's "lover-boy". The lover-boy I haven't talked to yet. Everything happened within a blink of an eye and I honestly couldn't sit down for a conversation with him. We met twice. With his parents and my parents around. The other times his family visited us, he was on tour or in his studio, or at a promotion.

Darshan was Papa's student. Papa's most hated and punished student back in college; back in the days, there wasn't a day when Papa wouldn't come home without whining about how annoying Darshan is, and how he wished he could simply expel him out for being so disrespectful and mischievous. But fast forward to five years later, when Darshan hit stardom through a reality show, he reconnected with Papa in a Diwali event and Papa was all praises about how his worst student ever has taken a complete flip. He wouldn't shut up about it.

I don't even know why, or how, we ended up together though. One random day, when I was returning after my shift from school, the Ravals were seated in our living room with a platter of gifts and sweets, seeking for my hand in marriage. The next thing I know is - I'm married to my dad's once most hated student.

"If you don't take care of my daughter, you'll have to face the punishments. Understand?", Papa warns him with a smile, and he smiles, too. "I'll take any punishment, except for writing I'm sorry a hundred times on paper, Sir. I could have lost my arm because of the pain", he jokes and Papa laughs. "You don't worry about anything, alright? I'll take care of her, and our house is yours, too! You're welcome anytime", Darshan consoles Papa and the sight warms my heart.

It was officially time to bid goodbye, since the wedding planners began rushing us. With Papa's and my cousin's help, I hopped into the car and a whole minute later, we raced off into the empty streets of Mumbai.

The two of us sat beside each other, with a considerable gap between us, and honestly, I was nervous. I could feel the jitters in my stomach and almost struggled to catch my breath. The silence was daunting, and I didn't know what to talk about with him. Music? It would probably bore him since his entire life revolves around music.

"Ram. Turn on the radio", Darshan orders and rolls down the window, as he lights up a cigarette. From the corner of my eyes, I take a look at him, before looking away. His mom said that he doesn't smoke, nor drink. But he's probably stressed, like me.

"Do you have any suggestions?", he abrupt questions and I stare at him, blankly. "Any song you want to play?", he repeats and it takes me a moment, but I shake my head to the sides. I'm so nervous, my brain isn't functioning.

Moreover, all I can think of right now is about his own songs. He didn't have the time to talk to me, but that didn't stop me from making an attempt to know him. The past week, all I listened to were his compositions. Over and over again. His songs were addictive, I won't lie. There was something for every emotion I felt. I cannot suggest him to play his own songs; he'll probably think I'm being so desperate to impress him, or something.

"You teach, right?", he initiates a small talk with the cigarette dangling between his fingers. "Yes! At Sunrise Kindergarten School", I reveal. "Oh, the place where all the white kids study?", he narrows his eyes and I smile, answering with a nod. "My studio is around", he tells me, before an incoming call interrupts our extremely small talk.

I don't want to sound rude, or something, but out of all the things could talk about - he thought it was okay to talk about where I teach? I've been decked up in a lehenga - half my weight - for the past eight hours, and he didn't even utter a word about how I look. He was simply so unbothered. And I know that it's an arranged marriage, and things take time to build up, but all the hours I spent at the salon, bearing the weight of my dress was partly for him, right?

But I buried my racing thoughts away, telling myself that he's probably shy.

"Hi, Sir. Darshan here! Yes. The wedding went well. I really missed you there", he talks with someone over the call, in a jovial tone. "The track is ready, sir. We'll sit down tomorrow morning for a small session to see what you think about the track, alright?", he goes on and on about the technicalities of a track he composed for a movie, boring my to the tip.

Thirty minutes later, the car halts in front of his apartment complex and while he's still on the call, he opens the door for himself and puts his leg out. "Ram. Call Anisha to help her up, and you bring the luggage upstairs", he informs the driver and walks off, stranding me behind in the car.

"Sir's assistant is coming to help you, ma'am", the driver smiles at me, awkwardly, and I honestly don't know what to do. Why would he do that? An unsettling feeling crawls through my skin, but I simply brush it off.

As his driver said, Anisha showed up with a welcoming smile and showed me the way to his - she said and I quote - "Triplex Sea-facing Penthouse on the fiftieth floor". I knew he was rich, but this rich?? And how did I end up here, with him? And why?

The living room was almost the size of a football ground. My entire house could fit in his living room, alone.

"Keep madam's luggage in her room", Anisha orders the driver, while I settle down on the long couch, wondering what she meant by madam's room.

And where's his family? Aren't there rituals after the wedding?

"His mom will come meet you tomorrow, ma'am. Darshan Sir said he's tired and busy, so he didn't want anyone coming over", Anisha informs, as though she read my mind.

I know I have simply way too many questions, but where is Darshan Sir?

While Anisha orders the driver to put everything in the right place, I slump back on the couch - amidst a daunting silence - and take a look around. I feel I've been brought in and abandoned in the middle of an island. I don't know if I'm overthinking, but none of this feels right.

♡

[Hi cudies! I honestly cannot imagine our Raval being so grumpy and held up, but that's that's fun of the story I guess!
Here's chapter one of Faasla, and you all know what to do - TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF THE STORY. Drop your views and I'll revert back ASAP!]