The Arrangement

Chapter Sixteen: New Beginnings and New Risks

The first thing the three of us did was redecorate the apartment. I wiped down every single surface with a lavender-scented cleaner. Vivaan and Farhan worked on moving furniture. The dining table was shifted further into the corner, the sofas more spread out against the walls. The Islamic symbols and pictures were taken down and stowed away, the long-dead plants thrown out. 

Vivaan cleaned the balcony. Farhan sorted the bedrooms out, packing away any of his Uncle's belongings. I emptied the kitchen of all the expired food. Once the cleaning was done, the apartment was spotless, spacious, and ready to be filled with our belongings. 

But first we needed food.

"Cheetos," I announced at the grocery store, picking up a party-sized bag off the shelf and dumping it in the cart that Vivaan was steering. 

Farhan stepped forward and pulled a box off the shelf. "M&M's." That too, was chucked into the cart.

"Oh!" Vivaan reached out. "Mango Bite!"

We all paused and stared down into the cart. We'd been here for fifteen minutes now and so far it had nothing but candies, snacks and sodas.

"We should probably buy some vegetables and stuff," I said. "We can't live off this."

"Right," Vivaan nodded. "What would we need?"

Both men looked at me again. I put my hands on my hips and glared at them. "Seriously? You're asking me?"

"No one ever taught me to cook," Vivaan murmured.

"Farhan, you should know at least. You lived on your own!"

"I know microwave meals," he pointed out. "And takeout."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't expect me to do all the cooking. Alright, we need a bag of rice, spices, masala, and lots of vegetables. Also pasta, because I can't do curry all the time. Vivaan, now is probably a good time to tell you that I'm not a vegetarian." My husband gave me a stunned look. I cringed. "Another thing my parents don't know."

"You-but... how?"

I sighed longingly. "You'd know if you'd ever tried fried chicken."

"Or a cheeseburger." Farhan added.

"I feel betrayed." Vivaan lifted his chin and steered the cart past us. I heard him murmur in a quiet tone, "I've always wanted to try chicken. But I'm a good Hindu. I am a good Hindu."

We went home and stocked the kitchen with our grocery. By then, it was time to make dinner. Finding some recipes online, the three of us got to cooking. Farhan tried to bake some chicken, while Vivaan attempted to make a salad. 

"This is easy," I pointed out while Vivaan stared at all the ingredients. "You just throw shit together."

I drifted between both men, teaching them what to do, grateful that they didn't depend on me to cook and had immediately set about to learn. Once dinner was done, we set the table and sat down to eat. It took us a moment to realize that was no longer necessary. So we shifted our dinner plates to the lounge, where we relaxed onto the sofa with a bottle of beer and turned the TV on. 

I cleaned up after dinner, and once that was done, the three of us stared at each other wordlessly, and- I admit- a little awkwardly. 

"Now what?" Farhan asked

A sly grin spread across Vivaan's face. "I have an idea."

Now that we were alone, I no longer had to wear traditional Indian clothes. I got changed into jeans and a crop top, feeling naked after being covered up for so long. Farhan entered my room and came up behind me as I put some jewelries on. He smiled at me in the mirror, and his fingers traveled across my bare stomach, tracing the tattoos. I couldn't help but shiver at that, and leaned into him.