Arranged Divorce

The First Meeting

Hello readers,

The fourth chapter is finally up! Its two days late and I have good reason for it.

--> For those who have stumbled directly upon this chapter, Kavita is a single mother living in the suburbs of New York with her daughter Sairaah. Her ex-husband called her one day to tell a certain Gupta family will be visiting them. Since no one knows about their divorce in their families, they have to put up a show for these people. <--

The previous chapters had been first drafts, or rather words straight out of my brain. I was so excited to get the story out there that I hardly cared about the quality of writing.

The observant ones among you might have noticed the amateur style, and spared me the criticism over it, because you guys love me.

But moving forward I am improving the chapters, re-revising them as I go and you'll enjoy these more than the ones you read before. And I promise to keep up with the schedule!

Happy Reading

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Arjun drove around the corner for two whole minutes, looking for a parking space, before he left the vehicle. His jacket needed a straightening, after which he walked towards the building he had been given the address of.

Mrs. Khanna's, who hadn't seen a man as handsomely dressed as him in this neighborhood, let her eyes follow him from his car to the porch of their building. If she could, she would have pierced through the bricks and cement to watch the young fellow climb the stairs onto the first floor.

As he reached the end of the corridor, his mind got overwhelmed with all the things that had separated him from his previous life. Beyond this door was the biggest proof of it and he had to acknowledge it.

If there was anything that could be done in exchange of having to open this door, he would do it. But fate had come knocking and there was no other way.

The bell rang once before Kavita pulled it open and welcomed him inside. His vision immediately shifted to the 7 year old sitting at the kitchen counter that seemed to be the only thing separating their 10 feet long kitchen from the living room. Taking a quick glance over the entirety of the apartment he shifted his gaze to Kavita.

"So this is where you live!" His tone was one of surprise, but only because he was trying to sound conciliatory. In his head, he was very content with his own living quarters and the motive was to not sound too proud.

"We," Kavita corrected him, almost in a condescending way. "Sairaah, come say hello your father," now easing up on the hostility.

Sairaah got down from the chair and made her way, looking at the floor the entire time.

"Hello," a forced smile appeared on her face as she looked at him.

He joined his hands, "Namaste Sairaah, I hope you know how to do that." His eyes quickly moved to Kavita, "You haven't taught her how to do that?" Now he was really surprised.

"Of course I have, she is free to choose whatever way she wants to greet people with. But," directing her message at Sairaah now, "these new people, they are our guests, do you understand that they are different?"

The girl nodded.

"So you greet them with a Namaste, remember that," she instructed her.

They went around the living room, Kavita pointing out all the things, with a fairly big description of when and where did she get them from, much like the curator at Guggenheim Museum does when he comes across someone who loves art just as much. And to her delight Arjun was making mental notes like his life depended on it. To an onlooker it might have seemed like the both of them had lost their minds, but in an Indian household, the owner is aware of the amount of interest their guest is going to be taking in each and everything they own.