His Unwilling Bride

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RABYA

I held the painting closer to my heart. It was beautiful.

Adhrit had painted another piece for me. A girl wrapped in a piece of clothing with stars shining all over it and she was chasing the butterfly. It was summer's evening with red sunrays all over the blue sky. There was a flower tucked behind the ear of the girl, her hair flowing effortlessly.

And then at the end, it was written that,

"The sky is big enough for both the stars and butterflies and even if you fail to shine brighter, there's always a chance to fly high."

I don't know in what context he wrote that but something felt good.

"You're really good at it. Why didn't you choose to do it professionally?" I asked.

"Professionally?" He blinked.

"Yes, there are various courses
available- " I stopped in the middle.

"Does my failing twelfth standard disappoint you?" He asked, his eyes fixing on me momentarily.

I crinkled my brows together and all of sudden I was taken down the memory lane to the time when I was young and in eleventh grade. I studied in regional board and I admit I wasn't well versed with English. There was this seminar which was held at State level where few meritorious students were selected to discuss about climate change and it's impact on the global world. I was partnered with students who were both rich and belonged to ICSE and CBSE. I wasn't able to communicate with them properly and when I tried to share my thoughts on the topic, they made fun of me. I felt humiliated not because I didn't know English but because despite my calibre, nobody bothered to hear me opinion.

And now that I think of Adhrit, maybe deep down I judge him too for not being thoroughly educated. When he first told me that he had failed even to qualify the basic secondary education, I was disappointed not just with him but with this marriage.

"What if I say yes?" I asked back.

"Then maybe I'll tell you something to earn your pity instead of disappointment." He shrugged.

I looked at him in confusion. My lips parted slightly to ask him what he meant but then I closed my mouth shut and shook my head to myself. No, I don't want to feel anything for him even if it's pity.

The thin line between us that makes me to be indifference towards him, I don't want to cross that line. I neither want to despise him or do I want to force myself to acknowledge him as my husband.

"No, I'm not disappointed." I told him the truth. Atleast part of it.

"Okay." He rested his head against the couch and stared at the ceiling.

I don't know but I felt like explaining myself further. "You're good at painting. If you're passionate about something then I don't think academic qualifications matter anyways."

"Then what are you passionate about, Rabya?"

My nerves stiffened at his question. What am I passionate about? I pondered over it for a second before shaking my head in denial. "There's nothing." Not anymore.