His Unwilling Bride | COMPLETED ✓

✿ ALTITUDE SICKNESS ✿

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RABYA

"Are you okay, Adhrit?" I asked once he came out of the washroom after vomiting.

"Mhm." He grabbed the towel and wiped his wet face with it.

I forrowed my eyebrows in worry and tried to remember if he ate something spoiled?

It is for the third time in past couple of hours that he had puked.

"Let's go and see a doctor. You might've bug in your stomach or something-"

"I'm alright, Rabya." He forced a smile on his face and laid down on the bed on his stomach. Pressing his cheeks against the pillow, he sighed.

"But-"

"Don't worry. It's just a minute headache. I guess I should sleep for awhile and then we'll go out for a walk, okay? There's this nice spot, you'll love the sunset from there." He whispered, closing his eyes.

I nodded, absentmindly.

I climbed on the bed and touched his forehead to see if he's having fever but his body temperature was fine.

When I found him falling asleep, I turned towards the glass window and looked out of it.

I grabbed the novel that he bought for me and after staring at the mesmerising Himalayas, I began reading it but everytime I tried to focus on the book, my eyes drifted to Adhrit.

Slamming the book shut and keeping it aside, I crossed my hands above my chest and leaned against the bedpost with my gaze fixed on him.

This man, I'm getting whirlwind of attachment to him. It's scary how I lost the ability to think about myself when I was asked to marry a stranger. I was mourning for the loss of my father, I didn't have enough strength to conclude the gravity of my situation. Emotions make people vulnerable. But with Adhrit, my emotions are safe. Even if liking him means making my heart vulnerable, it's not a chaos rather it's an onset of contentment.

Reaching for his face, I softly brushed his hair and bend down to place a kiss on his cheeks. His perfectly trimmed beard graze my lips and I smiled. "I like you, Adhrit Singh Chauhan." I whispered and went back to my initial position.

I averted my attention to the window and there's something that I haven't thought before but these days it's occupying my mind of often. If I was married to someone else, there are high chances that I might've turned into one of the women from that village. I could've been helpless when my husband came to know that I'm not virgin. From where I was supposed to bleed on first night? He could've hit me, humiliated me, abused me verbally, disrespected me. And if he found about my pregnancy, he could've thrown me out of his house or worse. I wasn't in my right mind after my father's death. I might've continued blaming myself for it and let my husband ruin me. And maybe years later, I would've stood infront of the mirror no more recognising myself. I would've turned bitter and told my daughter to stay in her boundaries so that she won't end up like me and despised my son's wife if she was anything like me.

My brain would've started imbibing the patriarchy. My beliefs and individuality smudged into the darkness of ignorance where I'd sit with the women of village and whisper about the newly married girl whose husband is allowing her to pursue her dreams or the girl who ran away from her house because her parents were forcing her for the marriage. I'd call both of them shameless and assassinate their character.

Forgetting the girl in me who dared to dream once, I'd care only about the reputation of my husband. I'd go even against my children and snatch their chance to live for themselves. My daughter's marriage would become my priority so that she doesn't end up on the bed with her lover. And I would search for a girl who's untouched and pure for my son's marriage.