~ Book 1 of "Mine" series
A Russian guy named Dmitry arranged in marriage with an Indian girl named Geet.
She was introvert and shy
while - he was ( not so) less talkative and cold with Everyone except her.
family from both side fixed wedding des...
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I got down on my knees in front of my love and put turmeric on my hands. I knew the process well, from start to finish. I gently caressed her cheeks, then her arms and hands. The scent was too good, and I already loved the culture and tradition. Her yellow face with pink cheeks made her blush.
My lips curved with the thought, and I did the same on her legs too. I had achieved many goals in my life, but this was one of the most beautiful. I had been researching their culture and traditions since last year, which is why I already knew about Tilak, Sindoor, Phera, Turmeric function, music night, and henna function. I had made myself half-Indian to win her over.
As I moved back, I silently prayed to God to let her reciprocate. She held my hand, and my heart did that little jump in excitement. I lowered my gaze, knowing my cheeks were burning up, fearing others might make fun of me.
She caressed her hands over my cheeks, and I wished I never had to wash my face again because the perfume of her hand and turmeric was driving me crazy. I closed my eyes and got flashbacks of the night when I saw her for the very first time.
That long red dress, pretty heavy Dupatta over her shoulder, and long open hair—today, she wore a yellow long dress with a white dupatta. That day, I was not sure if I could ever make her mine, not gonna lie, but when I saw her for the first time, and had the urge to get her, I never doubted myself that it was the first time. If I want it, I'll get it. This time was different, perhaps because this time it's not “It”, this time it's “Her”—Miss Geet Choudhary.
This girl is totally about the fact I'm obsessed with her. And when she put turmeric on me, I got lost in my thoughts when everything was done.
I opened my eyes, finding her giving signs to her sister in Hindi. They said something in Hindi and I didn't understand. They held the bucket, I puzzled while she was giggling. “What happ-”
Before I could complete my words, they splashed water on me. I sobbed with the sudden touch of water on me. My clothes got wet, and my hair covered my forehead. My kurta was getting see-through now.
I glanced at her as she was laughing with her sister. Now what was that? The part of this Ritual?
Before I could speak, a word of explanation, my friends came holding the bucket. My eyes widened in surprise. “No, no, no, they will get sick-”
I stopped but I guess there was no use left as they already put those on them. Their clothes got wet, their hairstyles, their pretty expensive dresses.
As I glanced around for the reaction my eyes fell on the videographer who was recording us. Good.
My saaliyan ran behind them because this time it's their time. Meanwhile, their parents and relatives continuously stopped them but they are too stubborn.
I gazed at my Bride who was already staring at me. I raised my eyebrows and shook her head as she got the question.
“No Dmitry,” she requested and got from her seat. I held her wrist taking her to the water while she was requesting to stop. Her cheeks get red while laughing. I like it.
