Rehnuma

8. Provence

Provence is beautiful. It truly is. Even when I have nothing to do except for sit in the balcony and stare at the vast purple fields. I've come to France often over the course of my life. But my parents preferred the glitz and glamor of the cities. Not the peace of a town.

But my husband, being the artist that he is, brought me here. On the outskirts of the town, renting a small cottage made of stone, surrounded by long fields and zero human contact. It was quiet and peaceful in the beginning, it boring and absolutely annoying now.

We had been married for a month when my father in law threw us out of the house and practically forced us to go on a honeymoon. I didn't mind. That house was too empty anyway. Papa was mostly in office, Lakshay avoided me like the plague and weirdly, so did Vivaan. He locked himself in his studio and carved stone all day.

Fucking asshole. God knows what his problem is. He looks at me when he thinks I won't notice. I do. He plays with my hair and caresses my face when he thinks I am asleep. But when I open my eyes, he keeps so far away from me you could put the whole population of Provence in between us.

All the promises he made- my heart is yours pineapples, I'll kill for you- bullshit. All lies. Should've known. Men are all shit. All they do is lie and take advantage of you.

But that's another problem. He doesn't take advantage of me. Not even when I want him to. On the seventeenth day of our marriage, yes I counted, I wore the sluttiest fucking lingerie I own, covered it with a useless satin robe that hid nothing. My nipples poked out of the fabric. That's how useless the robe was.

I sat on the bed, literally, serving myself on a platter to him and this bitch came into the room, spared me one look, and went to change. He came back, laid on his side of the bed and told me to shut the lights when I am done.

When I am done? When I am done? How can I be done if I never started?

Another time I had gotten out of the shower with just a towel around me. He was asleep on the bed and I didn't mean to do anything but I saw his eyes open and I saw him stare at me. I supposed it was my time to shine. That he would bring his larger than life hands to some use and relieve my aching pussy. Just as I thought of dropping my towel, he yawned, closed his eyes and turned away to sleep on his other side.

So when we were sent here for our honeymoon, I had no hope from my husband and it's a good thing because I might've been disappointed. He has zero interest in touching me.

He still flirts. Thank goodness, he wasn't completely malfunctioning. But all that flirting mostly left me high and my fantastic husband doesn't do shit about it.

I stare at the fruits laid in my plate with a sigh. No pineapples. Nothing is good in life anymore. It's all shit. We are all going to die.

I miss Winnie.

I met her on my first day in my new house. She is Winnie the poodle. The adorable doggy. She is the only companion I have when I am trying to write songs or composing some tunes to send to my manager. Adorable little thing, always jumping and playing and biting something.