Poles Apart

All Strings Attached

Hi everyone! 

Happiest new year to all of you! After about six months since the epilogue, I'm here to announce my new work: All Strings Attached. This one's going to be a forced marriage plot, with a subplot of politics. I've been working on it for a bit now, and have a few chapters ready to publish, but I'm still looking for someone to make a cover for the book, so if you design covers or know of anyone who does, please reach out or direct me to them!

For now, here's a teaser, an excerpt from the book: 

"Which side of the bed do you prefer?" I ask Sita once she comes into the room after evidently trying to avoid me all day long, after we moved into the house we are to share.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" She asks, laying her dupatta on the couch next to me, and twisting her hair into a bun.

"I was waiting for you," I tell her, standing up and walking to stand in front of her to block her path. "Pick a side of the bed."

Sita looks up at me, her lips pursed with restrained annoyance. "What does it matter, Reddy?" She asks, rolling her eyes with exasperation. "You chose a side last night, didn't you? What's the difference today? Everyone's so keen on giving me choices, gosh."

"Last night," I explain to her, trying my best to keep my calm, "we were in your room, in your house, on your bed— you would've been comfortable regardless of which side of the bed you slept on. Plus, you were being a bitch—" she gasps silently, her eyes widening with outrage, but I keep going— "about sharing the bed so I really didn't feel like coddling you. Now, we're in a new room, and we're going to stay here a while. I'd rather you chose a side if that makes you any bit comfortable."

"How dare you call me a bitch?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you think of yourself? You can't call me a bitch just cause you married me."

"You were being one," I point out, obviously, finding it a lot easier to keep my cool now that I know she's annoyed. "What else would I call you? I don't appreciate being on the receiving end of whatever is happening here, either."

"Why are you picking a fight with me right now?" She tries to push past me, her forehead and nose scrunched up in annoyance, but the sight ruffles me enough for me to hold her hand and pull her back to where she was standing.

"Don't touch me!" She squirms in my hold, while I take the time to observe her scowling face. Has she always been like this? Why is she such a pain in the fucking neck?

"Sita," I growl when she petulantly tries to pull away and she stops to look up at me with her nervous gaze. "Don't walk away when I'm speaking to you," I teach her in a levelled, serious tone. "Stop acting like a child." I'm so sick and tired of her acting like she's the only one in a marriage that she didn't want. It sucks harder to be in a marriage with someone like her, trust me.

"I'm acting like a child?" She asks, as if actually even eligible to take offence to that. "If I'm a child, you're a fucking grandpa."

An amused chuckle leaves my lips before I can process what she's saying to me. "Don't you think you're being childish?" I try to get her to see what she's doing, but Sita continues to adamantly glare at me.

"I'm your husband," I remind her, "not your babysitter."

Her face flushes, with what I assume is anger at being reminded that she has a husband? "I will kill you in your sleep, Reddy," she threatens me, "leave my hand now."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Really?" I urge her to look at reason. "You're going to kill me because I asked you which side of the bed you want to sleep on?"

"Ugh!" She grits her teeth, truly looking murderous. "Leave my arm! Let me go take a shower, I'm tired and dirty!"

I leave her arm, but move to block her before she leaves, causing her to breathe out of her mouth as if trying to calm herself down. "What do you want, Reddy?" She asks, finally, not yelling anymore.

Is she possessed?

"Are you hungry, Sita?" I ask, stressing on her name to remind her that I have one.

Sita looks at me for a slight moment, and looks away, her face flushing with redness. I realise I had guessed the exact issue.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask her, considerably calming down, now that I know for a fact that I'm not the bane of existence. "Did you not eat at all?"

"I was busy," she says, her voice now barely audible, "I forgot."

"That's okay," I tell her, in an attempt to comfort her. She looks so cute when she's embarrassed, it makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and keep her there until she feels better. But I know better. She would actually kill me. I clear my head of those thoughts. I don't have to make Sita feel better, she can do it for herself. I don't need to feed into her victim mindset. "What will you eat?" I ask her. "I think there's some paneer curry from before, do you want to have that?"

She shakes her head. "I want pizza," she whispers, holding her stomach. "But mom and aunty told me not to eat non-vegetarian food."

"We can get you Margherita," I tell her, "it's still pizza."

She looks up at me, her round eyes, finally looking optimistic. "Really?"

"Really," I assure her, calmly. "Do you want it?"

I'm just making sure she eats. For my sake. She's such a ruckus when she's hungry, and I am also generally concerned for my overall safety.

"I do," she nods, her lips jutting out into a tiny pout. "Can I also have a milkshake?"

I pull my lips in, so as to not let the smile show on my face. God, is she something. What are those mood swings? "Of course," I encourage her. "Which flavour?"

"Chocolate," she answers, eagerly. "The chocolatiest milkshake on the menu."

Noted. "Do you want anything else?" I ask her. "Dessert? Garlic bread?"

She looks up at me, pursing her lips to maintain that she is still cross with me, but her face just looks like that of an upset baby. "I don't mind garlic bread," she says.

"Okay," I agree. "They'll be here when you're done showering, okay?"

I hope this has piqued your interest a tiny bit, given you an insight into Sita and Dhushyanth and their dynamic. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and any criticism for Poles Apart, or my writing in general that I can carry over to ensure that All Strings Attached is the best I can make it to be!

Looking forward to hearing from all of you! Can't wait to share this one with you!

Much love,
Anuradha.