Love Happens With A Twist

8

Mumbai

•
She found a place and sat down to reflect on what life had given her so far while he and the others were trying to complete the arrangements after he took her purse, which had her phone. She never imagined she would get married in a temple without proper ceremonies before the wedding. There was no photo shoot in Dubai, a dress made only for her by a renowned designer in Paris, or caterers that had been brought from the best restaurant in Italy to cook at the wedding. There was no makeup artist from New York. The hall wasn't the best in Mumbai, and the priest that would get them married isn't famous or well-known.

She cried loudly, blowing air out of her mouth, as everything was a disaster. She hated the man. She doesn't want to be his wife. Thinking about her being his wife, she wondered how her father would react if she returned home after being married. He would disown her at last. He would be angry and furious.

"I can't. I won't," she whispered, her heart already attached to Rudra. She saw his smile playing in front of her. She could never break his heart.

"Go and wear this Poonam." The man's voice made her blink, and with it, Rudra's face also vanished. She glared at him with immense hatred, knowing that if she were to vent it, he would end up not breathing.

"I hate you! Know that I hate you more than I hate Shraddha," she blurted. Shraddha was the only person she despised with great passion, but now the man has managed to surpass that vigour because he is worse than her.

He smiled warmly while putting the lehenga in her lap, not breaking contact with her eyes for even a second, as he enjoyed watching her helplessness, which was only the beginning. "Believe me, I hate you more," he responded, leaving her by herself to change.

"Mother Lakshmi!" she screamed after he disappeared, in the hope she would hear her. The worst thing was that the temple was the only building in the area. There were no houses nearby that her voice could reach, which may call for help for her.

More tears roamed out of her tired eyes. The man came back when he heard her call for help because he realised she would keep wasting his time if he acted as a gentleman to give her space to get ready.

"Get up!" he demanded.

"Who are you to order me? I still stand by my words. You're not worth being even a cleaner in my bathroom. Dreaming to marry me is a fantasy." She spit at his face.

"I'm a fool for being nice. Of course, I don't deserve you. Indeed, I deserve better. You should be in jail, actually. No one should escape the law, no matter who they are." He started bringing the cuffs near her, which got her scared and forced her to agree to change into the lehenga.

"Leave. I will put it on."

He stared at her for a considerable length before turning, and he started walking until her voice stopped him.

"Is it new? I can't wear someone else's clothes."

"It's ma'am," he said while stepping outside.

****

He went awestruck when he saw her in the red lehenga. She looked more beautiful in traditional clothes, even though she tried her best to run away from them. Her root makes her look spectacular, and although he hates to admit it, it makes her look innocent, though she is far away from that. She looked at him through her smudged eyes and parted her once-pressed lips to let some words out.

"This is compulsion. I can never accept you as my husband."

He walked to her and leaned in, taking away her breath when he went near, then whispered in her ear. "Once we marry, you are my wife legally. I'm sure you know what legal means. I have full rights over you." He straightened to hold her hand so that they could walk to the sacred fire together. She started to cry again as her life was crashing before her, and she wasn't making a proper effort to stop it.

"Save your tears for later. I promise you'll cry every day from now on. Start priest." They sat down behind the fire while the priest started chanting some chants, instructing them to perform some rituals that Poonam was hesitant to perform, but the man kept coercing her to do them. He put a garland around her empty neck, and she kept squeezing the flowers of the garland with her-meant for him, feeling the weight to accept him as a husband when he wasn't worth even her friend or someone she would hang out with outside.

"You can't keep delaying at every point. If you've changed your mind, tell me. So instead of giving you a garland, I will give you a handcuff."

"You..." she started angrily, and he continued,

"Yes, me," he smiled.

"The garland doesn't mean anything to me. I don't believe in all these ceremonies. They're as fake as..."

"You. It doesn't matter if you believe in them. I do."

She threw it on him, and it entered his head, resting around his neck. He released a brief chuckle while the priest continued with other rituals. His colleagues served as representatives, and finally, they were asked to stand up to take the wedding vows.

"This marriage means nothing to me. The ceremony, the rituals—I don't regard them as anything," she told him when he held her hand as they got up.

"You are to be my wife. I promise I will be with you until your last breath." He said, pulling her with him by force because she stood still and didn't want to move.

"It is until your last breath. You will die before me, which is soon if you're not careful."

"I promise to fulfil all my duties as a husband."

"This marriage is nothing. Stop making these stupid vows that won't have any effect. Don't make promises you can't fulfil. With the sacred fire as my holy witness, I don't consider this marriage valid, nor will I ever do."

"Apply this vermillion and put the wedding chain around her neck." The priest forwarded the items. The man fetched some of the red powder from his fingers and put it in her hair, then made her wear the wedding chain.

"I pronounce you husband and wife," he claimed, and he left the temple, leaving them alone there.

"You....." Poonam started to warn him that the marriage was nothing more than a compulsion for her when he removed his ID card from the pocket of his kurta to show her.

"You're going to introduce me to your father tonight before I take you with me back home. You'll mind how you speak to me from now on. I can lock you up whenever I wish, you see. Whether you like it or not, I am now your husband."

Her eyes read the words on the ID card, which made her go silent because the man wasn't the kind of police officer she mistook him for who stands on the road. He was a police commissioner in Delhi. She couldn't believe that out of everyone, a commissioner had evidence against her.

"You will get me executed, right? This marriage is only an excuse. I don't know what you want to achieve from it, but I know you will send me to jail."

"Yes. Your behaviour will determine whether you will go to jail or not."