Luv (Un)Arranged (Luv Shuv #3)

Chapter 10

10

Song: Apna Bana Le

- Sachin-Jigar, Arijit Singh, Amitabh B

Aakar

T he moment I parked the car and turned to face her, so did she. “You didn’t call,” she stated, her voice accusatory.

I raised my eyebrows in wry amusement. “Neither did you.”

Her lips thinned in impatience, and she straightened her spine against the car door. With eyes full of fiery defiance, she asked, “What would I have even said? I was waiting for you to call.”

“Can you imagine how awkward it would’ve been for me to call you? What would I have said? Hey, Kriti, you excited to meet the other guy?”

She shrugged, still a little miffed. “I don’t know. We could’ve just talked. Like we usually do. About anything else. And after meeting Bhavesh, it got me wondering.”

“About what?”

She looked at me, her eyes staring straight into my soul. “Are you genuinely considering me for a marriage? I know it’s too soon, but I have to know if you actually see us going somewhere.”

With those bold, unfiltered words, she had me stunned. “Are you interested in marrying me?”

Kriti rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t go around chatting and talking with all the men I meet through these arranged meetings.”

“Me neither,” I admitted. I had never chatted outside the meetings with any of the girls I had met. I never felt compelled to. But with Kriti, I couldn’t resist asking for her number, couldn’t stop talking to her, and couldn’t get enough of her attention.

Her eyes softened, and her lips tugged up in a small smile. But a pinched look flashed across her face before she asked in a hesitant tone, “Have you met any women since we started talking?”

“I haven’t. I would’ve told you if I had.”

A small blush rose to her face, and I had to clench my hands into tight fists to stop myself from tracing her cheeks. The thought of some other guy touching Kriti, making her blush, and having these back-and-forth conversations with her made my blood boil.

“Did you really like what’s-his-name from yesterday?” I asked because I had to know.

Kriti looked at me for a beat, then turned her gaze to look across the fields around us. “He is pretty perfect on paper. I should like him. He seemed decent. Has a good smile. Kind eyes,” she said, then looked me straight in the eyes. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”

My heart pounded at her stark honesty. “Good.”

Everything within me needed to touch this woman. My muscles strained against my skin, my hands ached with need, every vein in my body zinged with anticipation, and I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned forward in my seat, stretched my hand toward hers where it lay on her lap, and asked, “May I?”

Her eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw a hint of uncertainty and hesitation. I was about to pull my hand back when she met my fingers. A sigh escaped me as she gasped. My heartbeat quickened, and blood roared through my veins as I slid my hand along hers, feeling the soft pads of her fingers.

Our fingers moved and explored, and for the first time, they entwined. It felt right, like they belonged.

My mind settled, and I smiled.

When I looked up from our joined hands, Kriti’s soft smile met mine.

“You feel something?” I asked.

Her cheeks were bright red, and a sudden chuckle escaped her as she shook her head. “I feel everything.”

I squeezed her hand tighter, causing her to gasp. “Feels right.”

“What are you saying, Aakar?” she whispered, her eyes cast downward at our joined hands.

Deciding to go with my heart, I answered, without missing a beat, “I’m saying I want to meet you again. Tomorrow.”

She looked at me, her eyes bright with happiness, a little mirth, and some doubt. “Third meeting, huh? You know our parents would conclude that as a big fat yes, right?”

I didn’t know if Kriti was aware, but she held our joined hands in her lap now, and it was taking all my strength not to pull it toward me and kiss it. I wanted to know her taste, the feel of her skin on my lips. With great effort, I recalled her question and tried to pull words out of my clouded mind. “Yep. I’m pretty sure they would get our driver to bring my grandparents here by tomorrow.”

Something akin to wonder and terror flashed in Kriti’s eyes. “Wow. Okay. This is all starting to sound very, very real.”

I laughed and squeezed her hand, my voice full of sincerity. “Only if you want it to be. If at any point you feel we’re not a good fit, or even if we are but you’re not comfortable with my family, I want you to tell me. We’ll talk about it and figure out what works best for you.”

“Your family seems nice. A lot bigger than mine. I know my mom keeps bragging about my excitement and openness to big families, but it’s not exactly true. I’m terrified of living in a big family. Right now, I think I can manage it, but it would certainly be a challenge.”

Seeing Kriti nervous made me want to comfort her and make her smile. “Kriti, if we get married, you won’t be left to your own devices. We’re in this together. And just because we agree to a third meeting does not mean we are committing to marriage.”

Relief shone in her eyes. “What does it mean to you, then?”

“It means I want to make it work with you. Exclusively. I hated thinking about you meeting that other guy. The entire day yesterday, I kept hoping you would reject him. I want us to be exclusive and committed to each other. I want us to have whatever ceremony necessary to give us the time to meet without any conditions, get to know each other better, and talk without worrying about our families.”

A big, teasing smile played along her lips, her cheeks so enticing I wanted to smoosh them together. At my raised eyebrows, she said, “That ceremony is called an engagement.”

My cheeks warmed at the official term, my heart beating in terror and wild excitement as I murmured, “If that’s what you want to call it.”

She laughed. “I mean, I would love to be your girlfriend. But as per the arranged marriage rules, the ceremony for commitment and exclusivity equals engagement.”

“Only if you want. I don’t want you to agree because you think I’m your best option. I only want you to agree if you think you’ll be happy with me,” I murmured, running my thumb along hers.

She shivered, and her voice came out breathy when she answered. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Such enthusiasm.”

“You’re welcome.”

I chucked her chin lightly with my free hand.

I turned serious and clasped both of her hands in mine. I wasn’t kidding about the meeting tomorrow. I wanted to see where things would go with Kriti. More than that, I knew I wouldn’t find another woman with whom I connected so deeply. We suited each other. My heart knew I would never tire of talking to her. Time flew too fast with her, and our conversation was effortless. At this moment, I didn’t care what my family thought of her, what her family thought of me, or whether we would fit in each other’s lives. All I cared about was how we fit with each other.

But I needed Kriti to feel the same. “Let’s meet tomorrow again. Take your time. I’m in no rush. And you don’t need to rush either.”

“I missed talking to you,” she admitted, her eyes earnest. Her cheeks turned red under my gaze, and she shook her head as if regretting saying it out loud.

Slowly, giving her the chance to pull away at any moment, I brought our joined hands to my lips and pressed a soft kiss on her fingers. “I missed talking to you too. So much.”

Her soft, smooth skin had my blood pumping hard. I could easily imagine traveling up a little farther, placing soft kisses on her wrist, her arm, her shoulder, and her neck. I nearly groaned out loud before I reluctantly let her hand go.

A deep red blush spread across her cheeks, yet her grin was wide, and her eyes shone with excitement. She adjusted her perfect kameez, trying to regain her composure. “Now, let’s go back.”

“Ready to go already?” I teased, noticing how flustered she was from the kiss. If she had actually looked at me, she’d have known I was just as affected by her.

Before I could turn the car back toward her house, she said, “And let’s get some ice cream before they start wondering what took us so long.”

I chuckled, recognizing the wisdom in her suggestion. “Ice cream it is,” I agreed, and we headed off to an ice cream parlor, getting an ice cream for everyone back home.

Kriti

“I can’t believe he asked for a third meeting already,” Rati said, sitting on the floor between Maa’s legs. Maa applied oil to her hair with such vigor that it seemed she believed she could make it grow by sheer force. Rati, the tough cookie that she was, simply moved wherever Maa led her head—left, right, up, down—keeping her face entirely neutral. I preferred Dad’s hair oil massages far more than Maa’s. His hands were bigger, but his massages were gentler, as if coaxing the hair to grow faster, unlike Maa, who probably thought pulling it out by the roots might do the trick.

Maa turned Rati’s head up by her hair in the middle of the massage. “Don’t put out such doubts and negativity. I’m so happy such a good man from such a great family is interested in Kriti.”

She looked at me and said, “Beta, your life will be all set if you’re married into a family like theirs. We won’t even need to worry about Kartik and Rati.”

I rolled my eyes at her dramatic dialogue. “My life is already set, Maa. With or without marrying Aakar or anyone else. And you don’t have to worry about Kartik and Rati, regardless of my marital status.”

“You’ll understand what I mean when you have your own kids,” she said, squeezing the bottle of coconut oil directly onto Rati’s head.

Rati shrieked. “Maa, I told you to use less oil and more massage. I need to wash my hair tomorrow when the guests return.”

That night, my mind couldn’t quiet down enough for me to sleep. This was the farthest I’d ever gotten in the marriage process. For the first time, I didn’t dread the next meeting. In fact, I was excited. Aakar was a good man. He cared about his family. He wanted a wife for himself, not his family. He was respectful but not shy.

I touched the back of my hand where his lips had brushed against my skin. I always thought the emotions, feelings, and kisses expressed in the romance books I read were far-fetched.

Never had I been happier for being so wrong.

Romance books merely put into words every emotion—moments leading to the kiss, the kiss itself, and the aftermath—prolonging the moment in the eyes of the reader. How I wished I could have prolonged the moment Aakar touched his lips to my hand. All I could do was remember those moments. Recall every little detail. Over and over again.

With just one tiny kiss on the hand, Aakar had me in a pile of goo. My mind had departed from the sensible department to la- la land, thinking about all he could do with his lips, his hands, and his other parts.

How would it feel to kiss his lips? Would his stubble burn? My body heated with every dirty thought that crossed my mind. And I let it. I let myself imagine every naughty thing Aakar could do to me. That I could do to him. I tested my mind and my body, waiting for any hint of rejection or unease at the thought of Aakar touching me, bringing me pleasure, or taking his pleasure from me. But none came.

My mind eased at that. If my mind and body felt comfortable—even excited—at the thought of sharing probably my most vulnerable moments with Aakar, surely that was a good sign.

His words from the evening, when he gave me the time to think and the option to call off the wedding even after an engagement, made me believe he wouldn’t be selfish. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to put my trust in him. Put my family’s trust in him. His assurance that I’d be free to choose, free to take my time, and free to leave as I wish meant the world to me.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand, opened the messaging app, and sent him a message.

Me: Thank you for being so wonderful. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

His response came almost instantly, making me smile.

Aakar: Can’t wait to see you too. I’ll try to get us even more alone time. ;)

Me: Sounds good…Good night…

After a moment’s hesitation, I sent the little heart emoji I’d always dreamed of sending to someone special someday.

Me:

I didn’t have to wait long for his response.

Aakar: Good night, Kriti

I squealed into my pillow, clutching the phone in my hand, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

The mood of the families the next day had cranked up a notch. Or a hundred. Yesterday, they seemed to be in the get-to-know-each-other phase. Today, they were in the best-friends-in-the-whole-world phase from the moment Aakar’s family had stepped into our house. The ladies talked like they hadn’t caught up in decades, with hundreds of stories on the tip of their tongues. The men guffawed as they ate snacks and drank cups of chai.

Aakar was stuck with the men, my father asking him about his interests and job, while Aakar’s father and uncles boasted about his accomplishments. I was in charge of cooking lunch—because, of course, as the stakes go higher, so does the amount of food—with Rati and Aakar’s cousin Ria helping me out in the kitchen. Aakar’s mother and aunts were busy chopping vegetables, getting the dough for the puris ready, rolling the dough into puris, and preparing some salad.

Aakar and I hadn't talked once today, only exchanging a few helpless glances. Soon, all the men sat down for lunch while we ladies served them, standing in the kitchen and taking out hot, piping puris. My family usually ate together. However, whenever we had a lot of guests over, it was always the men eating first, then the kids, and finally, the women. Whether it was due to the lack of space at the dining table, the ladies wanting to finish serving and then eat in peace, or just plain old patriarchy, I hated it.

Right then, Maa handed me a container of reheated undhiyu, a mixed vegetable dish full of potatoes, brinjal, purple yams, beans, and several other seasonal vegetables. "Kriti Beta, go serve this to whoever has run out."

I didn’t mind serving the food to the men. I would gladly get up in the middle of the meal to get something for someone. What irked me was that no men served their wives when it was their turn to eat. I swallowed the lump in my throat, pasted a soft smile on my face, and stepped out from the kitchen into the dining room. I started with my father, who asked for some extra, then went to Aakar’s father, making the obligatory insistence on having some more. I reached Aakar and found him already watching me.

A soft smile played on his lips, as if he knew I hated doing such rounds yet was performing for everyone. I raised my eyebrows at him in question as I lifted the ladle of the undhiyu. Without stopping his smile, he said, “Just a little, if you please.”

My lips twitched into a smile at his deliberate politeness. I dropped a heap of the vegetables on his plate, and he shook his head, his smile turning into laughter.

I was about to pass by him when he murmured so only I could hear, “After lunch, I’m getting us out of here.”

“Good luck,” I murmured back, pasting a polite smile on my face to greet his uncle with a ladle full of undhiyu.

We—the ladies—had just finished our lunch and were clearing the table, about to join the men in the living room, when Aakar turned to my father and said, “Uncle, I was wondering if I could take Kriti out for a drive.”

Yesterday, my father had shown a slight reluctance to send me alone with him. But today, he was all-out beaming. He looked at Aakar’s family and asked if they were fine with it. At everyone’s agreement, Aakar turned to me, his eyes bright with victory and relief. I bit back my own relieved smile and got up.

In minutes, we were out the door and rushing toward his car. We stayed silent as Aakar started the engine and carefully maneuvered through the maze of other cars and two-wheelers haphazardly parked on our street. Once we got onto the main road, he said, “You hate waiting on people and serving them dinner, don’t you?”

Only because he was smiling as he said it did he make me want to share my mind. “It’s not like that,” I began.

He chuckled, giving me a glance. “Could’ve fooled me. You should’ve seen your face while trying to be polite.”

“Was it that obvious?’ I asked, worried that I might have offended his family.

“Only if someone was looking closely enough.”

His words sent a wave of relief as well as a rush of butterflies inside me. Heat rushed across my cheeks, and I had to stop myself from touching my cool hands to them. I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “It’s not that I hate to serve people dinner. I just find it a little demeaning having to wait on men as they finish eating while I am hungry myself. The men never even ask if the women would like to eat first or together. It’s always assumed that men are supposed to be seated first, served by women, and then they retreat to the living room to chat, never offering to help when the women finally sit to eat. Their main excuse is that they bring in the income for the family. Well, so do I. But I don’t get excused from serving the men.”

Aakar was silent as he listened to my rant. He cleared his throat and said, “Wow. Um…It’s understandable how you feel.”

“We’re a small family, Aakar. So, more often than not, we eat together. Even if the family I marry into doesn’t eat together, I’ll deal with it. It’s not exactly a deal breaker for me.”

“Our family is a lot more casual when it comes to lunch and dinner. Most of us aren’t home during lunch, and everyone has varied dinner times. People eat when they’re hungry, and some even skip it. The only time we eat together is during breakfast,” he said, clearing his throat before continuing. “And if we were to marry and you continued teaching, you’d probably be leaving for school before everyone gathers for breakfast. And you’re right, the ladies of the house sometimes sit with us and sometimes stay in the kitchen, depending on what we’re having. In short, you’re safe from being at people’s beck and call all the time.”

“It’s not like serving food to people is a punishment or anything. I won’t hate it if I have to.”

This time, he clutched my hand without any hesitation like yesterday. His hand was warm and strong. He squeezed my hand in his, saying, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t like doing. I know you’ll have to bend to our customs some days, and I won’t be able to do much about it, only if it’s to keep peace in the family. But I never want you to feel like you can’t share your feelings with me. When something or someone bothers you, I want to know.”

“I’m going to say yes if my family asks if I want to marry you.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

Aakar glanced at me with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face, only for two seconds before turning his attention back to the road. “Good. Because I’m gonna do the same.”