Luv (Un)Arranged (Luv Shuv #3)

Chapter 33

Song: Raat Hamari Toh

- K.S. Chitra & Swanand Kirkire

Kriti

Two days had gone by with radio silence from Aakar. Not even a message. Not even a call. Nothing. With every hour that he didn’t attempt to reach out to me, I started to lose hope. My fear was that I’d have to admit the truth that my husband had sent me back home to my family. These emotions were minuscule compared to the hurt and anger brewing in my heart.

I had started to see worry lines on Maa’s face, especially now that the weekdays had officially started, and I wasn’t going back to school. Especially when it was extremely rare for me to skip school.

It was the third night since I was back home, and everyone in the house was asleep when my phone vibrated with the incoming call.

Aakar calling…

My heart beat so loudly that I was afraid it would wake Rati up.

I quickly silenced the vibration and stared at the name of my husband lighting up the screen. My fingers shook as I tried to make a decision. On the one hand, I was dying to hear his voice. But on the other hand, I was so fucking furious that I just knew if I heard his voice, I’d accidentally throw my phone out the window.

So before the call could drop, I deliberately ended the call just to drive the point home.

In the next minute, I got a notification.

Aakar: I miss your voice, baby. I’m really sorry.

Then you shouldn’t have sent me back, asshole.

A blue tick showed under the message, indicating to him that I’d read the message.

Because I didn’t have anything else to say to him, I stayed quiet.

After just ten seconds of waiting, another message from him popped up.

Aakar: I know you’re extremely mad at me. As you should be. And you definitely shouldn’t forgive me. I know I handled myself in the worst possible way imaginable. But please tell me there’s a shred of hope left for us.

I read and reread his messages. I knew Aakar never gave apologies for the sake of it. And I did believe he was sorry. But this wasn’t the first time he’d reacted so poorly, and I could only bear so much.

Refusing to reply to him, I kept the chat open, my heart waiting for more of his words. Despite the fight, despite the insults, and despite his harsh words, my heart was starving for his words. My heart was stupid like that. It only knew how to love. Now, if only it could learn how not to love.

Aakar: I know my apologies mean nothing if I keep making the same mistakes again and again.

How the fuck was this asshole able to read my mind?

Aakar: Just know that I’m working on myself, Kriti. I’m going to be better for you. All you’ve ever done is be there for my family, treat them like your own, and like a selfish, controlling jerk, I’ve stood in your way. That won’t be happening ever again. I promise.

Aakar: Please reply, baby. Even if it’s one word. Or even just to tell me to fuck off. This silence is killing me.

He was a master of pretty words, my husband. And I refused to give him an inch. Nobody had ever disrespected me to this extent, and I refused to bear the brunt of his emotions that were too difficult for him to handle.

Even so, I slept soundly for the first time in two nights.

The following two days passed with several missed calls from Aakar, or more like calls that I deliberately didn’t pick up, and a constant stream of messages that popped up on my phone literally every half an hour. And with every passing day, I was getting entirely too desperate for his texts.

Aakar: I miss waking up next to you, baby.

Aakar: I was an asshole who let his emotions control his actions. None of which were kind.

Aakar: I’m sorry for hurting you.

Aakar: Please pick up my call.

Aakar: I need you, Kriti. In our bed. In our home. In my life.

Aakar: I hate myself.

While I was desperate for Aakar’s texts, Maa and Pappa were desperate for me to return home. But how did I tell them that I was mad at my husband for being an insensitive, immature jerk and that I was tempted not to leave for the next year because I couldn’t bear to look at his face?

It was the morning of my sixth day at my place, and Maa, Pappa, and I were drinking chai when Maa cleared her throat. Knowing she was trying to catch my attention, I looked at her. “What is it, Maa?”

With pursed lips, and after meeting my dad’s eyes, she turned to me and said, “When are you going back home?”

With raised eyebrows, I said, “I thought I was already home.”

Her glare could’ve eviscerated a weaker soul. “You know exactly what I mean. Has something happened between Aakar and you? Did you two fight?”

With a steady voice, I asked, “What makes you think that?”

Even though Dad wasn’t saying anything, his eyes volleyed between the two of us. “Because I rarely see you talking on the phone with him. You used to talk more with him when you were engaged. And these past few days, all you do is stare at your phone.”

Before I could say anything, Dad added, “You haven’t smiled once since you came back.”

I gave him a smile, to which he replied, “A real smile, beta. The one where your eyes light up.”

This wasn’t good. Dad was looking at me like he just knew I was lying. I didn’t know how to give him a real smile when I spent the majority of my day in a constant state of anxiety, hurt, disappointment, and rage. But I was terrified of disappointing my parents even more. Maa would kill me if she found out that I sucked so bad at being a wife that my husband asked me to leave.

My throat closed up at the thought of speaking the truth. The expectant look in Maa’s and Dad’s eyes had my heart pounding and my hands shaking when the doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell. I sighed in relief as Maa got up and went to open the door.

I shrank into myself and started surfing through my phone, just to get my dad to stop looking into my soul. I was about to ramble out all the truth on the spot with the way he was looking at me, I swear.

“Oh my god, Aakar Kumar!” Maa’s shriek dropped like a bomb in my chest.

At the rise of my dad’s eyebrows, I quickly schooled my facial expression, gave him a big—albeit fake—smile, and braced myself.

Walking behind my mom, my husband entered.