An arranged marriage isn't something everyone wants. It's a big chance that not everyone would take. Will this one work out, or will it not?
Can love really grow when you didn't choose who you marry?
Will they be happy together? And in the end, wil...
Before you dive into this chapter, I just want to give a huge shoutout to all of you for sticking around and being so patient. It's been a couple of months since my last update, and I appreciate every single one of you for hanging in there with me. Thanks for all your support and love!
Now, let's get into it!🎀
The next chapter's synopsis is at the end.
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♪Subhanallah
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KARTIKEYA'S POV
"It's okay, I'll make parathas for everyone, Anu."
"I'm fine, let me make it."
Anandita insisted, reaching for the tray of flour dough beside Mom. Mom tried to dissuade her, saying she shouldn't work, but they kept going back and forth for a good five minutes.
I had told Anandita not to work, but now they both were going at it, so I didn't want to intervene and make it awkward for my mother. Anandita will handle it as she wishes.
Meanwhile, I spread my non-sugary peanut butter on a slice of bread, stealing glances at their exchange.
"You sit at the dining table; I'll serve you," Anandita finally said, her voice gentle. "God bless you always." I watched as Mom turned to walk out of the kitchen and into the dining area.
How did I get so lucky to have such caring women in my life?
I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. No matter what challenges may come my way, I knew that with Anandita and Mom by my side, I could face anything.
They were my pillars of strength, my constants in a world. And for that, I would be forever thankful.
I finished making two brown bread sandwiches and turned to Anandita. She had tied her hair into a bun, with the end of her saree tucked into her underskirt. I wrapped my arm around her back, relishing the feel of her soft body against mine. She didn't flinch, knowing it was me.
God, I love her.
It's impossible not to be drawn to her when she's around.
"Let the housemaid do this," I whispered, watching her fill the chapati with aloo masala paste and then closing it to roll the rolling pin on it.
"I like cooking," she said, putting the Paratha on the pan and oiling it.
"I know," she really likes cooking, and I don't want to stop her from doing things she likes.
"I love you so damn much," I said. She replied by turning and planting a kiss on my cheek.
I sighed, nuzzling my face in her hair, the lavender scent engulfing me. Today was the day of my scheduled meeting with the lawyer to finalize the restoration of our property and submit our marriage certificate.
