Cupid never had a chance in their messy, parental-restricted love story
Karishma Jha, a twenty-one-year-old recent graduate with the world at her feet if only she chose to face it. Plagued with the worries of the future and yet healing from the scar...
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"No. No. No. Not this one. No," I muttered under my breath as I scrolled through my phone looking at various bookshelves. I had been at it for almost an hour and still had not found one that I liked enough.
Some colors were too bland, some would not fit in the corner, and for some the reviews made me wonder why people even bought that product. It was hard to buy furniture without standing in front of it, examining it from all sides. After all, it was to be in your house for the unforeseeable future and just about anything won't do.
Rishabh's sigh reached my ears. He was getting angsty.
While I lounged on a chair, Rishabh occupied the long section of the sofa with his legs splayed in front of him. The weirdo just watched me for the entire hour with nothing else to occupy him. I offered him my Kindle to read but regretted it as soon as I finished my sentence because I was sure one look at the covers and he would tease me mercilessly. To my great relief, he declined it and told me that he was good as it was.
With a sudden leap, he stood up and grabbed me by my arm.
"Come on. You are wasting your time," he said lifting me up and pushing me towards my room. "Go get ready."
"What? Why?" I asked him bewildered, trying to turn around to look at him.
"We are going to the shop. Now will you please listen to me," he said fluttering his hands to urge me to hurry up. With a gentle shove from him, I was in my room. He shut the door behind me.
I knew he was right. In the past hour, I had scrolled through almost 50 pages with nothing to my liking. Shop was the next destination.
I stood in front of my wardrobe debating what to wear. Most of my attire consisted of kurti and leggings. So, I took out a red ankle-length kurta with printed flowers at the neckline. Its flaring shape made my waist look slimmer and my hips wider. I quickly braided my hair in a messy French braid, making a mental note to oil it tonight.
As I went out of the room focused on the hem of my kurti, stressing over if I needed to iron it, I heard a low whistle. I snapped my head up to look at the only other occupant of the room. However, he was looking at his phone, casually leaning against the wall. Why was I hearing voices and sounds these days?
"Ready?" I said with a pep in my voice. It had been a long time since I had ventured out of the house without the intention to visit the grocer or any other mundane activity. He slipped his phone into his pocket and gestured for me to go ahead.
We got in the lift, and to my surprise, he guided us to the back entrance of the building where a car was parked against the wall. Did he get a new car?
I got the answer to my question when a driver climbed out of it.
"You called for an Uber?" I had not given him a destination.
"No, it is my car." He gestured for the driver to remain seated while he opened the rear passenger door for me. He hopped on from the other side. Once seated I swiveled my head around, taking everything in. A black privacy screen hid the driver. I had never seen one in a car before.
