Faasla

Two

I was glued to the long couch for over thirty long minutes in the Lehenga. At this point, the blouse began digging deep into my skin and it irritated my skin, but I continued to readjust my blouse, wondering what on Earth was happening in his  Penthouse that didn't even have a living being around!

No one told me what to do, or where to go, and I don't know why but for some odd reason, the thought of walkinv around without being told or consent didn't seem to sit with me. Not that I was shy, but despite being married to him, I'm still an outsider. It was his duty to take me around, show me the place and make me feel home. But instead, he was nowhere to be seen!

I hate to think about it this way, but he's so weird. There were simply way too many things about him that put me off, but I chose to overlook the flaws in the picture because Papa was all in for the proposal, and it was the only marriage proposal that came my way after...an incident.

Ever since the marriage proposal, Darshan never texted me, despite having my number. I was the one who went out of my way twice, and still - both the times, he replied late, even though he was online. He never made an effort to meet me, or talk to me. And when I opened up about my concerns to my closest Aunt, she said that it's normal for things to go this way during an arranged marriage. 'He could be a reserved person, you know. Moreover, Nivi, he's a celebrity - he has more than what he can take on his plate. Give it some time, and he'll change', were her exact words.

Honestly, I didn't put a lot of thought into it and believed my Aunt's words. As stupid as I sound, I'm a little old-school and the whole idea of falling in love after an arranged marriage always intrigued me; moreover, being a strict Professor's daughter, arranged marriage was the only choice I had. But forget about falling in love, there's no one to even take me to the bedroom to change in this arranged marriage.

Around another twenty minutes later, a door clicks open and the nation's favourite lover-boy walks through the door with a stack of paper in his hands.

I almost forgot how good he looks; I've only seen him twice before the marriage, and all the other times - it was through an Instagram post. He looks a thousand times better in real life. Almond shaped brown eyes. Ruffled hair. The perfect skin. He's just missing that charming smile - I've never seen that smile in real life.

He halts before the coffee table in front of me and drops the paper over the table, crossing his arms against his chest and towers over me. All I notice are the words - Terms & Conditions printed in bold black letters.

Terms & Conditions for what? Is this a contract for his newest project, or something? Maybe he has some work and he's on his way out. But tonight?

"I wanted to change out of my clothes. Where's the washroom?", I question and look around. "That's for you", he utters, drawing my attention back to the pile of stapled papers, which I thought had nothing to do with me.

"Me?", I echo in confusion and take a glance at Anisha, standing behind him.

"Take a look at it", he orders and impatiently looks down at his watch. Still perplexed, I reach out for the stack of papers and run the tip of my finger over it, reading the words printed over it.

I - Navya Raval - agree to keep a marriage without commitments with Darshan Raval. I have been informed about everything, and do not have any objections with the terms of this marriage. I agree to all the terms & conditions mentioned below, and I hereby conclude that I will follow all the rules, and I'm aware that breaking the rules of the contract will lead to serious legal consequences.

I'm sorry, but what the hell? Marriage without commitments? Legal consequences? Rules?

I don't know what's happening, but my heart uncontrollably pounds in my chest. I feel a bead of sweat run down my spine, underneath my blouse, despite being in an air-conditioned room.