The Unwanted Bride

1 - Stubborn

Typed 11/12/2018 – 23/05/2019
Edited On – 12/06/2019 (3:48 PM)
Chapter One - 'Stubborn'

Khushi's Pov:

'My boyfriend slapped me last night because I hugged my best friend who happens to be a male. He feels I was purposely trying to get all touchy with my friend. I was shocked, my boyfriend was very-well aware of my close relationship with my best friend. He's like a brother I never had. Should I be worried of the growing jealousy my boyfriend is facing? I love him but I just can't forget what he did. I can't leave my best friend who I've known for over fifteen years. What should I do?'

A typical relationship question popped up on my Quora feed. Funny how the anxious and quiet person like me always answers relationship questions as if I'm a pro at it. I'm not. Or maybe I am.

As expected from myself, I stopped at the question, my thumb hovering over the question for too long. Like I'm trying to understand the situation properly before writing away my own answer and judging the faceless man. But I know that feeling very well. I know exactly what this women should do.

'Are you having second thoughts about your relationship?' The question itself was interesting to me, and under the bold question the answer of this girl was even more interesting. I, who hid so much from others liked reading other's real life answers and problems. It gave me this weird satisfaction of knowing I'm not alone. People have it worst then me. At the same exact moment I feel so hopeless because I can't remove the negative from this world.

This world was cruel. I wanted to help. My hands ached to sooth someone's pain away but I can't help anyone. Not when people choose to sit quiet and tolerate their problems. I didn't want anyone else to face what I did in my teens.

Anger. Frustration. Pained. I felt a lot more than that. Sitting sullenly on the bench, away from the people walking around the park, my eyes only give my full attention to the phone screen. Shaking my head, visibly looking super exasperated to the nearby people, I typed on the comment section,

'Love? Do you really think he—your boyfriend—understands the definition of love or does it look like he wants to understand? Men like him don't change. Persuading someone is a complete different topic in comparison of respecting and oblige someone decision.'

I pause. Closing my eyes tightly to force or gulp away the rage growing inside me. My throat swallows hard, dry, and I try not to blame every single living or dead man in this universe for female problems.

I hate how they use their manly body or just the title of being the 'boss' of the house—because he earns—and it's just disgusting. Disgusting how they think raising their hand or forcing themselves onto someone makes you less of a coward. If the opposite sex doesn't listen to you, raising your hand, to look like the dominating guy—as the society wishes you to become—even if you're nowhere near being strong.

I hate it.

I hate the gender male. I hate him.

A cold breeze blows away, and I come back to life, resuming to type away the furious lecture of mine. 'Today he only slapped you, tomorrow he'll hit your weak spot. He'll break you emotionally and physically, is that what you want? No one can change a possessive jealous freak, move on.' In reality I just wanted to say, stay alone.