FF - |As Fate Would Have It| Chapter 9 June17 - Page 2

Aarti's patience was tested as she waited silently – unmoved both emotionally and physically as she waited for her husband of 2 hours to explain himself.

A man of very few words himself; Yash found it impossibly hard to select his next few words. What he was about to say would not please his… wife. Clenching his fists in aggravation, he knew he had to speak up. It was already too late, but he had to seize the first alone moment he had with AartiJi to finally put some honesty in their relationship. Making his way towards her, he stopped at the foot of the bed, hoping she would make things easier for him by perhaps looking up, lifting her veil, grunting.. heck, he would take anything! This silence was not ethereal, as most silences were.

As the seconds ticked away, Yash felt both the moment, and his courage, slip. Building up the nerve, he reached for Aarti to evoke some emotion. Stopping just shy of reaching for her, he pulled himself back. It was bad enough his words would scar her; he did not want his touch to do the same. Sending a small prayer, asking for courage he decided to try something else. It would be of great benefit to him had she not stayed as still as a statue, and as unmoved as his furniture while he spoke to her.

Breaking the silence that could have carried on throughout the night, Yash cleared his throat and waited a beat, hoping for a reaction. When none came his way, he finally spoke.

"AartiJi, we need to talk. Lift your veil"

A command.

This was clearly a night of many unexpected surprises for Aarti. Once again, she had not expected him to be so direct. Forgoing the teachings of her friends to wait for a moo-dikayi, she complied. Gift reciving, if there would be such a custom between the two, would have to wait for another time. In an elegant whisk of her hands, she moved the dupatta away from her face, and for the first time in her life, saw her husband's face from a reachable distance. The brief seconds during her wedding would not count, as her eyes had remained low, her head bowed. Eyes meeting eyes, Aarti once again waited.

It would be fair to expect a new bride to have her heart accelerate at a faster beat due to anxiousness of a new relationship. This would hold to be so much more accurate if one had a husband as perfectly carved as Mr. Yash Schindia. His beauty alone would make any woman – single, married or committed; old, young or in between – blush a deep crimson, if his eyes held theirs. Years of schooling on being the perfect daughter, the perfect child - the perfect woman - had given Aarti the confidence to not change colour.

Her silence, which was becoming quite the theme, encouraged him to speak. In retrospect, it will be said that had she not been a participant of the eye lock, had she been a little more comfortable, she would have bestowed him with a raspy, low throated laugh. In retrospect, perhaps humour would have helped. Helped her towards stability when her husband – her life partner – the man who she hoped would one day claim her to be the love of his life – claimed otherwise:

"AartiJi. This marriage was a mistake. I'm so sorry, but I'm in love with another."