Naina

Everything was a blur. What terrified me the most was the intensity in his gaze when he looked at me. It was as though he loved me. But how could that be possible? There was nothing to love. Just broken pieces.

I thought he understood what this was. An arrangement. Wasn't that what he had assured me?

I had been taken aback when my mother sat beside me and revealed that Zayne's family had reached out to them. They were interested in arranging a marriage between me and Zayne.

I had called Zayne that evening.

"You want to marry me?" I blurted out without any preamble.

"Yes," came the immediate response.

I remained silent, unable to process. He had indirectly hinted that he had been interested in me over a year ago. But somehow, it hadn't seemed serious or relevant. At least not to me.

"I mean, I know your situation. I know your parents are worried about your image and reputation with a broken engagement so close to your wedding..." he said matter-of-factly, and tears stung my eyes. He made it sound trivial, disproportionate to the ache in my heart and my shattered dreams.

"And you have a tendency to..." He faltered before speaking up again, "to go back to him if he changed his mind. I hate to do this, but you remember the last time..." I cut him off abruptly.

"Yeah, I remember," I didn't need him to say the words.

He was right. No matter what Advik did, I would find a justification for it. I would understand his reasons and forgive him, despite the price I would pay.

If I married Zayne, I wouldn't be able to go back to Advik. It would end the cycle of hurt that we had been stuck in.

"Okay, but what do you get out of it?" I asked him. He should know I wouldn't be able to love him. And if that was his expectation, I wouldn't agree to this.

"My parents have been pressuring me to marry. And I'd rather marry you than some random woman I have nothing in common with." He paused as though thinking. "You and I get along really well. We are compatible. I think this could work."

He was right. I had spent most of my time with him in the first year. He had mentored me, supported me. Even outside of the hospital setting, he had been there for me when I was going through the worst experience of my life. We were compatible. We could make this work.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Okay!" he repeated, his voice a little shaky.

But now he looked at me differently. As if I were a grand prize rather than a charity case he had taken up. Or maybe I was just imagining it. He had always been a good friend. Kind and compassionate until Advik had forbidden our interactions. Maybe this was all just him being a good friend to me.

We had arrived at Zayne's house after my parents had formally bid me goodbye. It had been a 7-hour drive from my house and we were both tired. Or so I thought.

"I can't wait to show you my room," Zayne said eagerly. I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

His mother and father stood at the doorway and greeted us.

"As-salamu alaikum!"

"Wa-alaikum as-salam," I responded as Zayne's mother pulled me into a hug, and his father nodded at me with a wide smile.

A male servant picked up our luggage and took it to Zayne's room.

I looked around. "This is your new home," his mother said.

Technically, I wouldn't be staying here. I would go back to Mangalore, and he to Manipal.

My eyes took in the mundane details of the surroundings- the white marble floors, the antique sofas with carved wood, maroon upholstery and green cushions, the tubelights, the cream curtains, the Persian carpet, the modern shelves filled with curios, trophies, and crystals. Every piece was exquisite by itself. But somehow, it didn't come together, making the house appear cluttered and disorganized. Like me. Perfect on paper, yet so messed up in reality.

Zayne followed my gaze. "Those are my trophies from sports. I played badminton and cricket," he told me. "Umma wanted me to focus on my studies after tenth. So I would sneak out to play and hide my shoes at my friend's house."

"I knew you were doing that," his mother chimed in. "Your school uniforms were so sweaty and dirty."

Zayne laughed, and I couldn't help but smile. It was the first time I imagined him as a kid, and my mind conjured an adorable image of a kid with his eyes and his smile.

But then, there was that look again in his eyes as he locked onto my gaze. My smile faltered. No.

Expectations meant disappointment. I had given myself completely to Advik, tried to be the perfect girlfriend, the perfect fiancée. And failed. Just like I had tried to be the perfect daughter, the perfect daughter-in-law-to-be. And failed. I was too exhausted to try again.

"Come to my room," he said softly.

"In such a hurry to take her to your room?" his mother teased.

"Umma, we are just tired," Zayne explained, though he was grinning.

"Okay, freshen up and then come down for dinner by eight. Vijaya aunty, Hafeez uncle, and family will be joining us," she informed us.

We headed to his bedroom. Contrary to my room, his was not decorated. It was neat and tidy, but there weren't any flowers or candles. It was his real room. It was very different from the room he had in Manipal. I knew. Because I had stayed there one night. When I had been at my lowest. I pushed the memory away.

"This was my desk, but I never studied here," he was telling me. "It was too quiet. So I would go sit at the table in the kitchen and study there."

"Do you cook?" I asked him out of curiosity.

"I make Maggie," he winked at me. I smiled. I hadn't smiled genuinely in months. But with him, somehow it felt easy. He had seen me at my worst, and he had picked up the pieces. More than once. I owed him. I had to do away with my fatigue and work on being the perfect wife.

I would be staying here for seven days, so I unpacked my suitcase. And as if on cue, he opened his cupboard and showed me some empty shelves where I could keep my clothes.

I showered before blow drying my hair while he showered. I changed into a salwar kameez that his family had bought for me.

"You look different," I heard his voice as I put on my gold earrings.

Anxiety hit me. Did I not look good? I turned to face him. He laughed.

"Do I look weird?" I asked him, genuinely concerned. I always tried to look my best. The salwar kameez was yellow. I never wore yellow, and it wasn't my color.

"You look good, just different," he reassured me. I relaxed, but Zayne frowned, his eyes searching mine. I looked away. There was nothing for him to find. And eventually, he'd see it too. That I was nothing but an imposter, and my actions just pretense. He would catch on eventually. They all did. And then he would ask me to leave.

"I can change into something else," I started, but he cut me off, smiling. He took a few steps towards me, and I gazed into his eyes. There was some remnant of laughter in them, but I couldn't see beyond that. I didn't understand his micro-expressions the way I did Advik. I took a deep breath. I had promised myself I wouldn't do this. I wouldn't think of him.

Zayne caressed my face, and I let him. I looked at my feet. I had a clear coat of nail polish on and had a pre-wedding pedicure. Then I looked at his feet. His nails were neatly cut too. He probably had had a pedicure before the wedding.

"Nia, my beautiful princess," Advik said, looking at me in admiration. I was wearing a sundress he had bought for me, and I had my makeup on. "Turn around, let me see you." I laughed and spun around, then posed. He smiled at me. "Gorgeous."

"Naina?" Zayne called, breaking my thoughts. He had been saying something, and I had missed it. I looked up at him and realized he had both his hands on my shoulders. I felt a lump in my throat. My eyes started to sting. Not now. Don't cry now.

"Naina, are you okay?" he asked me. Tears streaked down my cheeks. He got to them before I did, wiping them off. A sob left me. "Come here," he murmured, pulling me into a hug. I rested my head on his chest and cried. I was in a house full of strangers. But Zayne was here. Maybe I would be okay. Maybe I didn't need to be perfect. Maybe I just needed to survive.

It was his mother's voice that prompted us to break apart. I fixed my makeup and walked into the dining room with Zayne. The voices were loud and muffled. I heard laughter and a booming voice telling stories.

I sat down at the table next to Zayne. There was quite a spread with chicken curry, mutton curry, kadala curry, parottas, and pooris.

Two pooris would be about 250 calories. If I paired it with kadala curry which was abouta 100 calories, I would be okay. I served Zayne before I served myself, and he beamed at me.

"Mole, will you be graduating in September and joining Zayne in Manipal?" asked Hafeez Uncle. The question was seemingly innocent, but I couldn't speak. I felt his hand on my knee before hearing his voice. "Naina will finish her course in January, and she'll give her exams with the next batch."

Thankfully, no questions followed, but my mind became heavy with thoughts that had no place at the dining table.

"I can't do this. I can't live without you," I pleaded.

"Nia, don't make this harder than it needs to be. I will always love you. But I hate who I am with you. Please don't force this."

I couldn't cry now. Not in front of all these people. Strangers. My new family.

"I can help you. Let me help you. We'll get you enrolled in cognitive behavioral therapy again," I begged.

"Nia, please... please leave..."

"Excuse me," I said, getting up. I sprinted to Zayne's room. I didn't know what excuse I would come up with, but I couldn't break down in front of them. I looked in the mirror. 'Naina, you can do this. It's just dinner. You prepared for this. You can do this.' I took deep breaths.

I walked back into the dining room. All eyes were on me, as though waiting for an explanation for my erratic behavior.

"Did you bite into a chilli?" Zayne asked me, and I nodded, grateful for the flimsy excuse.

Conversation returned to the table. I let my thoughts wander until Hafeez uncle picked up where he had left off.

"So why are you graduating late? Did you fail an exam?" he chuckled.

"I missed three months of my course. So I have to extend it. I won't be able to give my exams on time, but I can start practicing in a private hospital before I officially graduate," I explained, surprised at how steady my voice was despite the turmoil within me.

"Zayne-ikka used to talk about you even before..." said a man in his early twenties. I felt a movement under the table and shortly after, felt a sharp pain on my shin. The annoying man had kicked me!

**********************************************

If anyone is reading this, can you comment on flow and engagement?

Thank you for reading. Remember that you are amazing, and there is a reason for everything. You are going to be okay.
❤️Faiza