The Arrangement

Chapter Three: A Trapped Mouse

I stumbled away from my mother. "You can't be serious."

Now that the secret was out, Mom was finally able to be open with her emotions. I could see the guilt clear on her face, but that didn't make anything better. "We've been lenient with you, Adi. We let you work at the vet, we didn't force you to marry."

"You call that lenient?" I hissed, making her flinch. "I can't do anything because of you two. I'm always trapped between work and home. And now you want to trap me in a marriage because of what happened the night before? Why can't you accept him?"

"He is a Muslim." Mom looked away. As if that was an answer. As if that explained the reason for the hatred.

"And he's a good man!"

"He might be. But you try telling that to your father." Her eyes burned with meaning as she glared at me.

I shook my head. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to ruin the honor of our family, Aditi." Mom took my arm and squeezed tightly. "You know the consequences of that."

As her words sank in, I felt the color drain from my face. When I didn't reply, Mom leaned in, her face dark. "I am trying to save your life."

Was this the girl that fought, or a mother scared for her daughter? I couldn't tell, and I couldn't find my words.

Mom took a deep breath and stepped back. I watched as she pulled herself together, straightening and wiping the fear off her face. She gave me a hard look. "So wear that lehenga and come downstairs. We'll be waiting for you." She paused. She seemed to have seen something in my face, because she added, "And Aditi, if you say no to this marriage, I'll tell your father the truth."

I stayed rooted to my spot after she left. I felt like a mouse, trapped in a corner with nowhere else to go, with nothing to fight with. My throat tightened, but I refused to let the tears come. After a long time, I headed back into the room in a daze.

The lehenga my mother chose for me was one of my favorites, but one I hadn't worn ever since I'd gotten too many tattoos to able to cover up in that kind of clothing. The blouse was a silk gold that stopped above my belly button. It was simple, but the heavy skirt and dupatta made up for it. Both were covered in glittering dark blue stones and sequins, and look like the night sky when the light hit it. The last time I had worn it had been at my cousins wedding.

She had gotten an arranged marriage too.

Oh, the cruel irony.

I got dressed in the lehenga. The skirt was still a little too long. It would've been fine if I was wearing heels like I had on the night of the wedding. But its length gave me a chance to pull the skirt high enough to cover some of my tattoos. The rest would have to be hidden under the dupatta, which I'd have to manage carefully. I couldn't ruin things more with my scandalous ink.

I felt everyone's eyes sweep up to me as I came down the stairs, trying not to trip over my skirt. I paused before everyone and lifted my eyes from the ground, all the while my heart thundered away in my chest. My gaze fell on the man named Vivaan first. He sat straight, his hands folded in his lap. His clothes were plain, his hair simple. He looked boring.

My friends often told me Farhan seemed boring, but he was just shy. The more layers I peeled away from Farhan, the better he got (and by layers I also mean peeling layers of clothes away, that always got better). Thinking about Farhan tightened my chest, so I pushed the thought of him away.

My eyes turned away from Vivaan just as quickly as they looked at him. I greeted his parents, both a little older than my parents, with greying hair that they didn't bother to hide anymore. They both looked happy at the sight of me. That wasn't a good sign.

I sat down on the other end of the sofa Vivaan sat at. I could feel him looking at me expectantly, so I forced myself to look at him again.

"Hi," I said.

He gave a short nod in response, then looked away in disinterest.

Rude.

I tried not to feel too offended, this was good. This meant he might say no to me.

I barely listened as our parents discussed us like we weren't in the room. They asked the basic questions, similar to the ones my aunt had been asking me in the room. It was like being in a job interview, except I didn't have to answer any of the questions myself. My parents would tweak their answers a little so I still seemed appealing despite my bad qualities.

My hands clenched each other as I waited. How could I prevent this? As I searched for a way, I realized the room had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at me.

"I'm sorry?"

Vivaan's mother laughed. "Oh, poor girl. She's so shy. It's okay, beti. We said you and Vivaan can go take a walk and get to know each other."

Take a walk? In a freaking lehenga?

I held back a sigh and nodded. "That would be great."

I could at least pretend I was making some effort, maybe I could convince Vivaan to say no, and I'd say yes so that I didn't look suspicious. We both stood up and headed for the door. Vivaan opened it and let me through. I mumbled a thanks and swept passed him, catching a whiff of a certain smell on him that I couldn't place.

I walked towards the water fountain to look at it, cringing when I felt my skirt slide an inch lower as I did. I discreetly pulled it back up, than made sure my dupatta covered everything. I turned to Vivaan, who seemed to be more interested in the servants working on the garden than me.

"So," I cleared my throat. Where do I start?

"Do you want this marriage?"

I paused, not expecting the question. "Why do you ask?"

Vivaan eyes searched me. "Just tell me the truth. Do you want this?"

I looked away. "No," I admitted.

Vivaan took a deep breath, almost as if he had been expecting the answer, but it still stunned him. "Then why are you here?"

I immediately thought of Farhan. I suddenly ached without him, without his comforting presence. But I also had to think of the risks. I didn't know this man. I couldn't trust him. "I don't want to get married, but... it would be better if I did." Even as I said it, I knew it was true.

I had cut the thread I had been hanging by. My mother wasn't going to be so 'lenient' with me anymore. She thinks it's why I had gone behind their backs and almost slept with a Muslim. Vivaan was the same caste as me. A Brahmin, which is a high caste. My marriage to him would bring great honor, my parents wouldn't have to be worried about me anymore. And I knew they worried. I could bring disgrace to our family. Somehow, it all ended up on me.

I lifted my chin and forced myself to speak, "I... I have some conditions." Vivaan raised his eyebrows and waited. "I want to work after marriage. I don't want kids yet. Not until I'm ready."

I would have to forget about Farhan. I couldn't risk his life. Couldn't risk my life either. Because while I knew my father loved me dearly, he could still be capable of doing the things he needed to. And it was that fear that kept me from saying no.

"Whatever you do after marriage is your choice," Vivaan said. "You don't need my permission."

What kind of couple will we be? I briefly wondered. Will we love each other? Will we grow old together? Will we be able to stand each other?

I could feel Vivaan's eyes on me. "Aditi," he said, leaning in so I looked at him. "I need this marriage, but nobody is forcing you to say yes. My parents will just arrange me to someone else if you don't want this."

"I do have to say yes," I pointed out. So why couldn't I?

"Then I'll say no. For you."

I thought about my mothers threat. There was only one way this could go. Clenching my fists, I said, "No. I'll do it. I'll marry you."