19. New beginnings

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A P A R N A

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A P A R N A

Sunlight, dappled through the fabric of the curtain like liquid gold, danced across my eyelids. I cracked them open, the events of yesterday flooding back. The ceremony, a whirlwind of emotions, the weight of the unfamiliar bangles on my wrists, the lingering sweetness of jasmine garlands. Married. Wife. The word felt foreign in my mind, a new cloak I was still trying to settle into.

A rustle beside me drew my attention. Varad, his usual stoic demeanor softened by sleep, lay sprawled on his back, facing away. The vulnerability etched on his face was surprising. Curled between us was Megh, his tiny fingers clutching at my stomach. The previous day's whirlwind had left us too exhausted to speak more than a few words after the ceremony. We'd fallen asleep almost as soon as we reached Varad's room.

I carefully shifted Megh's hand and slipped out of bed. Padding to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There were shadows under my eyes, betraying the fatigue, but a spark of something else flickered within them – defiance, perhaps? This marriage, born out of practicality rather than love, felt like a gamble. Yet, the memory of the raw emotion I'd witnessed in Varad's eyes during the vows stirred an unfamiliar flutter in my chest.

Emerging from the bathroom, a breakfast tray awaited me on the bedside table. A steaming cup of masala chai, its aroma both comforting and exotic, sat beside a plate of poha. A single pink rose, its velvet petals promising a new beginning, rested beside a folded note. The note, written in a hand I presumed to be Varad's, simply read, "Good morning, Mrs. Oberoi."

A hesitant smile tugged at my lips. It is true that this wasn't the life I'd envisioned for myself, but perhaps there was room for something unexpected to blossom, a civility at worst if not a friendship. I picked up the rose, the cool touch of the flower grounding me in the present. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage wouldn't be entirely devoid of warmth.

Downstairs, the grand Oberoi mansion buzzed with a different kind of activity. The opulent wedding decorations were being taken down, replaced with the familiar, comfortable furnishings of everyday life. Vartika, perched on the breakfast bar, greeted me with a hug.

"So, Mrs. Oberoi, how does it feel?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I took a moment to collect myself, the adrenaline slowly draining from my body. "Strange," I admitted, a single word that encompassed the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

Vartika offered a knowing nod. "Well, at least you have a delicious breakfast to kick off this new chapter."

A blush unwillingly crept up my cheeks, and before I could respond, the sound of clattering feet on the marble floor filled the room. Megh, his face alight with excitement, barreled into the kitchen, his arms outstretched for me.

"Mumma! You're awake!" he chirped, throwing himself at my legs in a hug. I scooped him up, a wave of unexpected warmth washing over me. "Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I slept in your and Dadda's room last night! It was so much fun!"

I glanced at Varad, who had just entered the kitchen and was watching the scene with a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"We need to talk about routines, Megh," Varad said gently, crouching down to meet his son's eyes. "We discussed this, remember, buddy? You have your own room, and it's important to sleep there."

Megh's lower lip trembled. "But Dadda, I don't want to be alone!"

Varad exchanged an uneasy look with me. There had been no discussion about sleeping arrangements after the wedding. Exhaustion had won the battle the night before, pushing the conversation aside.

"How about this," I offered, a tentative solution forming in my mind. "Tonight, you can sleep with us, Megh. We can tell stories and play games. But starting tomorrow, you can sleep in your own bed again. Until then, I'll see what I can do to convince your Daddy to let you sleep with us a little longer." You whispered the last part conspiratorially, a secret shared just between the two of us.

Megh's face lit up. "Really?"

"Absolutely," I confirmed, a genuine smile gracing my lips. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a step forward, a bridge being built between me and this little boy who would now be a constant presence in my life.

The rest of the morning unfolded in a flurry of activity. I helped Maa unpack the gifts and write back to the relatives who attended the wedding. Varad, despite his initial grumbles and work excuses, found himself helping anyways, occasionally writing a letter or two reluctantly. Unfortunately for him, Maa had prohibited him from going to work the whole week. He was also not allowed to work from home.

As the afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the sprawling living room, we found ourselves gathered around Megh, who was sprawled on the floor, engrossed in a book about faraway lands.

"Can you read me a story, Mumma?" Megh pleaded, his big brown eyes filled with hope.

I glanced at Varad, unsure. Even though this marriage was aimed for Megh to get a mother's love, I didn't want to overstep any boundaries and risk the son and father's time together. But the sight of Megh's expectant face tugged at my heart.

Varad seemed to sense my hesitation. "Sure, go ahead," he said with a shrug. "Maybe we can take turns reading a few pages each." 

Varad didn't look like the type of person who liked sharing. So, truthfully, him sharing his free time with his son seemed overwhelming to me.

I settled down beside Megh, opening the book to a brightly illustrated page. As I began to read, my voice a gentle murmur, I noticed Megh snuggle closer, his tiny hand reaching for mine.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of the setting sun and the sound of my own voice weaving a tale of wonder, a seed of hope bloomed in my chest. Perhaps, this new chapter in my life wouldn't be so bad after all.

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