Married To My Ex-Boyfriend

Chapter 2

Finally, I was summoned to the aisle where thousands of people are waiting to see me getting married to a complete stranger.

"Mittu, look down and smile shyly, okay?" My aunt advised coyly. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Like seriously?

I silently did as she asked me to do and was led towards the aisle which was actually an elevated stage which faced a huge crowd. I was not supposed to look up and I didn't mind.

Maybe no one will believe me but I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, while I walked towards the man I was getting married to. I didn't even feel the curiosity to look at him.

What was his name again? I wondered. But for the love of god, I couldn't remember.

I vaguely remember the conversation that I had with my mom.

6 weeks ago:

"See this picture, he is so handsome and the best part, his father is the local MLA....." I stopped hearing the rest of my mother's babble. I was not interested and that was that. Period. I don't want to get married, especially not to a politician's son.

Born in a conservative family I had to compromise on a lot of things. Even when it comes to choosing my life partner, I didn't have a choice. Not that I was looking forward to it, but still... If I really have no other choice but to marry then I would choose someone who wouldn't breathe over my shoulder at every second of my life and let me live my life the way I want to live. But like I said, I don't have a choice.

My father told me that he has finalised my wedding with a politician's son. They belong to our caste and are rich. Two reasons for my parents to get their daughter married off to a stranger.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I wasn't ready to hear anything that my mother was telling me about the guy.

"Yes," I told her loud and clear. One word which made my mom very happy and stops talking.

Present:

The rituals continued for a long time, all the while I had my head bent down as instructed. My hand was guided to put the tamarind paste on the groom's head. A heavy hand was placed on my head. A yellow thread was tied around my neck and a pair of hands put toe ring on my feet. Everything just happened in flow and I still kept my head down in a stubborn way refusing to look up or pose for any pictures.

Why should I see him? I have the speech ready which I am going to give him on our first night as I mentioned below. Call me a cold b***h but I don't care. Life has been unfair and I don't feel the need to be fair to anyone. He can decide afterwards if he wants to stay married to me or separate.

My thoughts were interrupted when a young girl stopped me along with the entire crowd that was entering the new house,

"You have to tell your wife's name. Only then I will allow" she said jovially. I understood that she is my husband's sister. I heard that she is getting married in a couple of months. Because of some horoscope issues, he had to get married before his sister, which I otherwise quite unlikely to happen in our community where the brother (despite being older) gets married before his sister.

I heard a deep sigh from beside me and goosebumps erupted on my skin. Why does this feel so.... familiar?

Before I could process what's happening, "I have come along with my wife, Maithili", said the same rough voice which I recognised so well.

Suddenly my heart beat increased and my hands started sweating. I was not as confident or strong as I was a while ago.

It can't be him. It can't be him. He doesn't belong to my caste. He doesn't even have a sister or a family, that I know of. How can his father be a politician? It's not him. It's can't be...

"Say my name" his hot breath caressed my cheek as he whispered into my ears. "Everyone's waiting... Mittu!" he said and I stopped breathing.

"Shiva?" I whispered but the applause that I got from behind me told me that everyone heard me utter my husband's name.

My husband!

My husband, who was my ex-boyfriend.