Luv (Un)Arranged (Luv Shuv #3)

Chapter 2

2

Song: Do Anjaane Ajnabi

- Shreya Ghoshal and Udit Narayan

Kriti

T he guy’s family didn’t even need to wait after ringing the doorbell because my mother had already seen their car arriving and taken her position in the entryway within seconds. Her glare at me, my siblings, and my father was enough to get us in our positions without any arguments. I stood near the end of the sofa—where I would sit, adjacent to the other sofa where Maa would invite the guy to be seated—ready for the show. My siblings stood behind the sofa, and Pappa stood with Maa in the foyer.

The moment the bell rang, Maa opened the door, beaming. “Shilpaji, Aakar Kumar, please come in. I hope it wasn’t too difficult to find the house.” Ji and Kumar are honorifics used to show respect.

A few namastes were exchanged in the entryway, and everyone moved into the living room within the next minute. Maa entered first, followed by a woman in a light pink saree wearing a necklace with a large teardrop-shaped green pendant resting on her chest. Behind them came the man I was to get acquainted with.

With jet-black hair, short on the sides and perfectly gelled on top, he wore a light blue shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders, gray pants, and a large watch on his left wrist. His well-groomed beard was slightly longer than in his picture, but it only made him more handsome. All in all, he looked prepared, polished, and, dare I say, hot. His photograph did not do him justice.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, he paused in his conversation with Pappa. I gave him a small smile, and his lips barely lifted in return. Maa called his name and led him to sit on the sofa adjacent to mine, our knees almost touching. After we sat, he gave me another small smile, and my stomach fluttered.

My attention was pulled away from Aakar when introductions started. Maa introduced me and my siblings, and we said hi to the young people, whereas namaste to Aakar’s mother. Aakar’s mother started introducing their family.

“Kriti Beta, I am Shilpa, and this is Aakar, my eldest son.”

Aakar looked at me and nodded, his eyes warm, with a hint of a smile on his lips. I clutched my dupatta on my lap, nerves heating my cheeks, and nodded back.

Shilpa Auntie continued, “This is my youngest son, Abhi. My daughter, Akira, studies in America.” Then she pointed at another young woman who sat beside Abhi and said, “That’s Ria, Aakar’s cousin. We all live together in a joint family of fourteen people.”

I must not have been able to hide my reaction because Maa quickly said, “Our Kriti is very adjusting. She’s always wanted to live in a big family. Isn’t that right, Kriti?”

That wasn’t right at all. The more people in a family, the more opinions they would have about my life. And I was barely prepared to take care of a husband and his parents, let alone a family of fourteen. How many of them were kids? How many were older people?

“Right,” I said out loud, giving a polite smile to everyone.

“What do you do, beta?” Shilpa Auntie asked.

“I am a teacher at one of the schools in the village.”

“What do you teach?” The question came from the man sitting on my right. Aakar. His deep and resonant voice commanded my attention. I was shocked—not by his voice, but by the fact that he had spoken at all. Men rarely participated, or even cared, to talk to me when their mother was already speaking. He looked at me, waiting for my answer, without looking away in awkwardness or hesitation. He was like a rock, steady and patient. I tried to find my bearings.

“Uh…I’m the teacher for a ninth-grade class. I teach science to high school students and English to primary grade students.”

Aakar nodded, and I could feel all the eyes trained on us, especially Maa’s. At this point, I’m sure she was dreaming about our wedding, just because he made conversation in front of everyone.

Shilpa Auntie added, “That is wonderful, Kriti. So you must speak great English, right?”

Well, I was a teacher in the subject. “Yes, Auntie,” I said politely. But when my eyes met Aakar, his smile was a little wider than before. Was he reading my mind?

Maa turned to where Rati and Kartik stood. “Rati, Kartik, get the chai and snacks, would you?”

With a nod, they shuffled to the kitchen. Maa looked at Pappa and tried to have that silent conversation with her eyes as if none of us could see her. I turned to Aakar to gauge his reaction. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes indicated he was all too familiar with these antics and knew what came next.

Right then, Maa looked at Shilpa Auntie. “Shilpaji, I was wondering if it would be okay if the kids talked for a little while in private?”

Shilpa Auntie, clearly expecting this, answered, “Of course.”

Maa turned to me. “Kriti Beta, why don’t you and Aakar Kumar go to the porch outside? I'll send some chai and snacks to you.”

I nodded, and Aakar and I stood together. With little space between the sofas and the coffee table, Aakar stepped aside and let me lead the way. I opened the front door and led him to the porch, taking a seat on the wooden, hand-carved jhula—a wide swing for two. When I looked at Aakar, he sat beside me, leaving several inches of space between us.

As if by mutual understanding, we moved our legs to swing the jhula slowly. The low creak of the metal bar at the top of the swing was the only sound between us. Back and forth we went, the silence growing more painful by the second. If he didn't start talking about something—anything—in the next thirty seconds, I would reject this guy. Too bad, he really was handsome.

I started counting down from thirty, looking everywhere but at him. At the count of fourteen, Aakar cleared his throat. “So I read your biodata.”

Turning to him, I found him watching me. “Oh. That’s good.”

He chuckled. “It was interesting.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him. “What did you find interesting?”

He lifted a finger and opened his phone. “I really liked your About section, but what I found especially interesting were the last two lines of your expectations.”

It had been a while since I’d prepared my biodata. Maa had been circling the same piece for the past two years. I might’ve looked confused because Aakar held up his phone and read aloud. “Someone who wants a wife to be his partner and a friend. Last, someone who is patient and willing to learn more about me.”

He raised his eyebrows as if to say, Remember?

“Aah. Well, wouldn’t you agree?”

Aakar looked at me, and our eyes held for a beat. “I agree. I’m glad you think so too. It’s not often that people mention that they want a partner in their biodata. It’s usually a list of demands like a government job or private business, someone who is spiritual, and other ridiculous expectations.”

“Well, a woman has to leave her family, her world, and go live with a whole new family. I guess she can have as many expectations as she wants, no matter how ridiculous they are.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, perhaps shocked that I disagreed with him. He should be glad I only said that much and didn’t mention how his biodata didn’t even have the Expectations section.

“I agree. I apologize for my insensitivity. I did not think.”

Now, I was shocked.

He chuckled. “What? I can admit my mistake and apologize when I’m wrong.”

My cheeks flushed. “That’s good to know.”

Before I could think about what to ask him, he took the lead once again. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to become a teacher?”

His voice was steady and calm, and genuine curiosity shone in his eyes, causing warmth to bloom in my stomach. Not a lot of men cared enough to want to know about my job, my passion. I thought about my students and my classes, and my lips automatically stretched into a smile. “Well, we spent our entire childhood at school, made our best friends there, and still remember our favorite teachers. It’s the most important period of our lives, even though our memories of school fade as time passes. When I was attending, so many girls were taken out of school. People often forget the importance of education and how it brings security and stability to our lives, especially for women. I just had to be a part of it. I wanted to teach in a way that made learning enjoyable, instilled discipline and manners in my students, and helped prepare them for what’s to come in life.”

I knew I surprised him with my answer because his eyes were wide with wonder, making me proud of my work. “That’s very admirable. I always thought people went into teaching because they couldn’t succeed in anything else. How wrong I was.”

I rolled my eyes at that. “You’re not the only one who thinks that. So many relatives constantly advised me to go into engineering and get a traditional job at some company. I had no interest in that.”

He groaned softly, and a warm sensation rose in the pit of my stomach. “C’mon, Kriti, please don’t compare me to your relatives. I’d like to think I must be better than them.”

Hearing him utter my name for the first time had heat rushing through my body.

I gulped as my brain tried to form words. “I really hope you are.”

His laughter washed over me. “I’ll just have to prove to you that I’m better than them.”

Pressing my lips in a small smile, I asked, “What about you? What do you do?

“I run my family’s textile business. We produce and manufacture different fabrics, working on various designs, dyes, and finishes. I’m involved in almost every aspect of the business from quality control of the products to handling distribution to our clients, marketing and strategy for bringing in new clients, financial management, and researching new innovative and eco-friendly practices.”

He sounded so confident, so authoritative, as he talked about it. “Do you enjoy what you do?”

He chuckled lightly, a hint of doubt in his tone. “Well, I am the oldest. It’s always been my responsibility.”

“That wasn’t my question,” I said softly.

He sighed at that and looked straight ahead. “It’s a little more complicated than a yes or no answer.”

Aakar seemed so self-assured, like he had everything in control, like he was sure of what he wanted out of life. “How so?”

He cleared his throat. “Now that I’ve been at our company for five years, my dad and uncles rely on me. I feel more responsible. I like certain aspects of working at our company, like researching the market industry, preparing reports on what to order, how much to order, making the marketing strategy, and executing it. I want to expand it, bring in sustainable technology, and handle things my way. But is working and expanding our business my true passion? No. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it or get a sense of satisfaction from it. I know I’m good at it and enjoy seeing the company grow. Working there makes my family happy and secure for the future. And that makes me happy.”

His life revolved around his family. “Spoken like a true eldest child.”

He snorted and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Do you believe that a person should always follow his passion? What if a person has no passion?”

I must have hit a nerve. I looked down at my lap as I thought about his question. He didn’t rush me at all and simply waited. “I do believe that a person should always follow his passion. But I don’t think that passion must always translate to a source of income. People can be passionate about different things—family, friends, traveling, reading, or simply collecting random items. Every person is passionate about something. Your passion seems to lie in your family’s happiness.”

Aakar looked at me with such intensity and something akin to gratefulness that it was difficult to meet his eyes. “Thanks, Kriti.” He nodded. “I’m not like my siblings. Akira is spreading her wings, being independent, and falling in love in America, and Abhi seems to be exploring his options. I just want to support my siblings and family and be there for them when they need me. I want my siblings to achieve their hearts’ desires, but I don’t want my father and uncles to have no one to rely on in their old age. They’ve worked so hard to build the company. I just…I just need everyone to be happy.”

An ache bloomed in my chest at his words, his love for his family so evident that, despite knowing him for all of ten minutes, the words flew out of my mouth. “I know you will keep everyone happy.”

Just then, the front door of my house opened, and Rati walked out with a tray. I quickly got up and took it from her.

“How’s it going?” she whispered, her eyes lit with excitement after far too many meetings.

“Later,” I whispered back.

I placed the tray of snacks and two cups of chai on the jhula between us. I picked up a cup, placed it on the saucer, and handed it to Aakar. He took the chai and said, “Thank you.”

Manners and a thank you? Aakar was earning points in my book.

“You’re welcome.”

“So enough about me. Tell me about your expectations from a husband?”

This was the moment. If and when someone asked me this question, my answer often had them running away. It was shocking that few guys even bothered to ask this simple question. But sadly, that was the society we lived in.

I took a sip of my chai and placed the cup on the saucer. “Aakarji, I must be honest,” I began but was interrupted when he said, “Please, just call me Aakar.”

Oh my. Clearly, he was a city boy. I nodded at his request and continued, “Aakar. I actually have three conditions my future husband must agree to before I would agree to marry him.”

His eyebrows rose high, interest clear in his eyes. He placed the chai back on the tray, turned his body to face me, and gave me his full attention. “Let’s hear them, then.”

I cleared my throat, mostly because his gaze was fixed on me, and I needed a second to meet his eyes. I took a breath, pulling in all the authority and defiance I could muster, remembering the men I’d previously met telling me how unreasonable my conditions were and how I would forever stay alone.

Fire burned within my heart, my jaw hardened, and I faced him head-on. “First, I will continue working even after marriage and having kids. Second, I won’t have sex with you for at least the first six months of the marriage. And third, I will have full control over the money I earn. Whether I spend it on my family, college fees for my siblings, donate it, or spend it on myself and things that make me happy, that’s my call. It doesn’t mean I won’t discuss it with you or share my plans with you. I’d welcome your opinions and thoughts, but in the end, I should be free to do what I want with my money.”

Aakar

Kriti’s eyes burned with defiance as if daring me to mock her. Her words, spoken with such conviction and power, made my heart beat faster. How could I ever mock her? And what was there to mock? Her conditions were perfectly reasonable.

“Are you going to say something?” she asked, an edge in her tone.

“Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

She raised her eyebrows, clearly telling me to get on with it. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped me. She looked gorgeous in her beautiful light pink dress and dark pink dupatta. Her dark pink painted lips, which had me struggling to focus on her words, were now pursed tight, and her eyes, lined with a thick line of kohl, narrowed with impatience and frustration. How quickly she transformed from a sexy goddess to Goddess Kali, the Goddess of Death, I’ll never know.

I cleared my throat. “I mean, these seem like good requests.”

“They’re not requests. They’re conditions. Request implies that you have the power to say no in the future.”

Her eyes were narrowed to slits, almost as if she would soon shoot fireballs from them. How much must she have heard about her conditions to make her so defensive and hardened about this topic? “Of course. Conditions. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I am sorry you had to put these wishes as your conditions.”

Her shoulders loosened a little, her hand clutched her dupatta, and a hint of softness came over her face. She looked at me with such hope, such relief, when she asked, “So you don’t think these conditions are unreasonable?”

Unreasonable? What sort of guys had she been meeting?

“Of course not. They are perfectly reasonable. Your conditions concern your life. Your work. Your body. Your possessions that you have earned. No other person has a right to any of it.”

She met my eyes, not with defiance but with something positive. Something light. Something that warmed my chest. And this time, her voice was barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Has it been that bad for you when you stated these conditions?”

Now that she knew I was on her side, she rolled her eyes and picked up her cup of chai. After taking a sip, she said, “It has been awful. There hasn’t been a single guy who has agreed to all three conditions. Some didn’t even have an opinion and had to consult their family before giving me an answer.”

I picked up my own cup and took a sip. “It’s a really good chai. And if you don’t mind, can I ask which conditions were unacceptable to other men?”

She smirked. “Why do I feel that you think it was condition number two?”

A loud laugh burst out of me. She wasn’t shy. “Was it?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “That was the least of their concerns. Some wanted me to leave work after having kids. Some couldn’t handle the fact that I wanted the choice to handle my money. Some wanted me to contribute to their household income or give it to the head of the family. Not many even bothered to discuss the topic of physical intimacy. Some just ignored that fact, while others scoffed and said it was one of my many duties to my husband.”

I put my cup back on the tray, unable to stomach anything at the moment. It wasn’t that I was unaware of how the men in our society were. It was just hard to hear the list of sacrifices that came with marriage for women. “I’m really sorry you’ve had to meet such men.”

She gave me a small smile. “Frankly, I thought you would say, ‘Not all men are the same.’”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Honestly, I was going to say that. But it felt like a cop-out. And I knew you would glare at me if I did.”

She laughed loudly. The sound of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up, and how gorgeous she looked with her lips stretched wide in delight had my heart hammering in my chest.

As she placed her cup back on the tray, I said, “I have grown up with my sister, Akira and my cousin, Ria. I never want them to have to lay out such conditions for marriage. Thankfully, Akira already has an American boyfriend who worships her. And Ria, well, she can handle her own. But I don’t know what I would do if their partners had issues with even the tiniest of their wishes.”

Kriti smiled at me, her gaze drifting toward the street outside their porch. “You’re a good brother.”

“I try. It all comes with being the eldest, I guess. I mean, Ria is a year older than me, but I feel older.”

She looked at me, curiosity in her eyes. “So, Mr. Good Brother, what are you looking for in a wife? You didn’t exactly include much in your biodata.”

Her raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and smile screamed gotcha .

Heat warmed my cheeks, and before I could answer her, Kriti’s sister, Rati, opened the main door to their house and poked her head out. Without meeting my eyes, she told Kriti, “They’re calling you back inside.”

Already? We’ve barely talked.

Kriti looked at me, and she must’ve seen the disappointment on my face because she turned to Rati and said, “Tell them we’ll be there in a bit.”

Rati nodded and quickly went inside.

With a grateful smile, I said, “Thank you.”

She gave me a beautiful smile in return. “You were saying?”

Ah. The age-old question. What did I want in my wife?

I looked at Kriti—her large earrings entangling with a few locks of her hair and her eyes trying to read me—and I wanted to share my answer with her. “I don’t have a list. But I’m looking for a solid connection. Someone with whom I can share my feelings with ease, someone with whom I can joke around, someone who is passionate and kind, and someone who genuinely wants to know me and be with me. Someone I can consider a friend. Someone I’m excited to go home to.”

Kriti looked entranced. “How would you know you found that person?”

I turned to her and met her eyes. “I’ll know.”

She nodded and gave me a small smile. “Want to head back in?”

I gasped. “Back to the riveting conversation between our parents?”

She chuckled. “I could probably recite their conversation verbatim at this point.”

I nodded, but both of us got up and shuffled inside.

On the way to their living room, I looked at my watch, and a little more than half an hour had passed.

Huh. Time just flew by. That was a first.

Kriti’s long hair almost brushed the middle of her back, her dupatta enhancing every one of her generous curves. She walked with confidence, authority, and grace. My eyes were riveted to her every movement.

The spell, however, broke as soon as we stepped into the living room. Maa, Abhi, and Ria looked at me, trying to decipher my interest in Kriti. And if I looked at Kriti’s family, I’d find them doing the same. For the next fifteen minutes, we sat making idle conversation while I tried to sneak a glance at Kriti, doing exactly what my family was doing to me: trying to decipher her interest.

Maa cleared her throat, and I understood the telltale sign. It was time to leave because the parents had run out of conversation. My eyes met Kriti’s, and I gave her a small smile.

Maa, Abhi, Ria, and I stood in tandem, and Kriti’s family followed.

We slowly started to walk out of the house, exchanging obligatory goodbyes and we’ll talk soon , while Kriti and I kept exchanging glances. A rush of excitement, nervousness, and some foreign emotion churned in my stomach.

As soon as we got in the car, all three started in on me. I specifically took the driver’s seat to avoid the grilling.

“You guys were out there talking forever,” Ria stated.

Maa added, “Do you like her, beta? Kriti’s father couldn’t stop praising her.”

“Is she going to be my bhabhi?” Abhi teased. Bhabhi meant sister-in-law.

She certainly was the most interesting person I had met so far. But if I said that to Maa, all she would hear is Get the invitation cards printed . Silence was my only option.

I turned the car around at the next intersection to drop Abhi at our friend Meera’s place so he could help care for Hari, Meera’s younger brother.

After enduring Maa’s nonstop questions and Ria and Abhi’s encouragement, I turned to the three of them and said what I always say when I meet a girl. “I’ll think about it.”

Maa rolled her eyes and looked at Ria for support. “Ria, will you tell him that I don’t enjoy looking for a girl for him if he’s going to give me the same answer every time.”

Smiling, Ria raised her eyebrows at me in mock anger.

Maa caught Ria’s look and huffed in frustration. “Both of you are just hopeless. See if I care the next time I get a rishta proposal for you, Aakar.”

“Oh, I will,” I said.

I dropped Abhi off, then drove to our village house to drop Maa and Ria off before returning to Meera’s place. Maa did not need to witness the possible debacle waiting to happen. She would just turn it into gossip, and Meera and her mom would not like that. At all.

For the rest of the drive, Maa asked, pleaded, and ordered me to tell her all about my private conversation with Kriti. And when I didn’t budge, she told me all about the praises that Kriti’s parents had sung about her. Usually, I never gave those praises any mind.

This time, though, I couldn’t hear enough of them.