Husband For Hire

7. Drunk Part I

7. Drunk Part I
Don't be quick to judge.

* * *

[Anmol's P. O. V.]

On Monday morning, I reached the set of In Too Deep.

Myra was the lead actress while Roshan, her twin, was an assistant director (AD) like me. We had a lot of work as assistants such as making call sheets, taking care of food arrangements, taking care of the cast & crew, etc. We introduced ourselves to everyone and tried to get to know each other.

The official shooting was starting tomorrow, so everyone went home early.

I ate dinner before Ashar and his family to avoid them.

I sat on the sofa in my room working when Ashar entered. He chose to plop down next to me and turn on the TV.

"Do you mind?" I asked irritated.

"No, feel free to stay. Just keep your noise levels low," he replied, turning up the TV volume. Is he serious? I was actually doing important work unlike Ashar who spent his day playing with Photoshop and now wasting time on Spongebob.

"Is it like a husband's job to disturb his wife when she's working?" I proposed.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "You're my first wife, so I'm experimenting everything on you."

Great.

"I won't be like your future wife, serf. Who knows what poor girl you'll marry." That ought to show him his place. "Maybe Cecily," I pondered.

Ashar let out a dry laugh. "Very funny. I don't think I'd want to get married anytime soon after this year of imprisonment is over." I turned myself his way. Wait, why am I even wasting my time on a serf? I turned back and focused on my work. "By the way, how was your day?"

"Splendid."

"And what's your job again?"

"AD--assistant director. I'm a film major."

"Yeah, daddy's money makes getting into Hollywood easy," I heard him comment. Dropping the paper in my hands back on the table, I turned to him. Seeing my glare, he gave an innocent look. "What? It's true. If you weren't 'Princess Majhraut,'" he airquoted before continuing, "it'd be much harder to become an AD straight away."

That serf mentality.

And here I thought we were going to have a civil conversation.

"Yes, Ashar. That's exactly how I got the job: Papa's money," I said with a bitter smile. "He sent me to the best elementary, middle, and high schools in the state. Afterwards, I got into the best film school in the country. He paid for everything. Everything except for my qualifications which--believe it or not--got me the job." To top it off, I added, "But unfortunately, my daddy's money is all I have left of my--you won't understand. I mean, your sisters' education also depends on my daddy's money."

Ashar blinked at me, realizing how much his words affected me.

I collected all my papers and put them in a binder, quietly.

Why was I even wasting time working here? There was an entire library and a study to get work done in. I needed time to myself. Away from the guy who called himself my husband. As I turned to leave, my hand was grabbed. I frowned at Ashar's warm hand engulfing my fingers.