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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We had just crossed the 30 km milestone when the tire of our car burst with a loud sound and the car skeeted dangerously close to the other lane which was thankfully empty.
With a muffled curse, Rishabh swerved the car to the left and stopped it just beyond the shoulder of the road.
After making sure I was okay, he hopped down to check the engine. I stayed back in my seat and shut my eyes tight, hoping that when I opened them I would be back in my bed and I would get to do over this day. But I was still stuck in this hell when I opened them. With Rishabh looking at me from the other side of the window.
"We have a spare but no jack," he said quietly. He tried to call our hotel but surprisingly no one picked up even though it was just after seven. The number of cars on the road was decreasing too. I walked near to the road lifting a thumb, hoping to get a lift.
"Don't," Rishabh dragged me away, "If you don't get hit, we would surely be kidnapped so late at night. We passed a hotel a few minutes back. We can spend the night there."
He did not wait for my response. After retrieving our bags and locking the car, he started walking away leaving me with no other option but to follow him.
I stared at his back as a storm brewed in my mind. He had hardly spoken a word since we left the restaurant. Was he being calm for my sake or was he upset or was he just indifferent? The lack of emotions on his usually expressive face unnerved me more. I wanted a reaction from him.
I had just taken us on a wild goose chase in which he did nothing but save me at every turn. Anyone else would have started to question my professional competency.
The hotel was a serious downgrade from the one we were lodged in. But it was either that or bunk in the car. As Rishabh made the reservation, I walked around the reception trying to take a peek into the rooms. Calling it a reception was generous as held just a table and a chair. It looked more like the security chamber.
"Are you two married?" The manager, an old man, peered at us through his thick spectacles.
"Huh?" It took me a while to realize that I hadn't wiped the sindoor off my forehead.
"Is there a problem?" Rishabh butt in.
"No, just your names are different in the signatures." He pointed to the notebook we had just signed.
I was about to educate him about a woman not needing to change her name after marriage when Rishabh interrupted me once again.
"We haven't been married for long. Just a week. She's not used to it." Rishabh gave him a chagrined grin.
I glared at him and then at the old manager who just pushed the book for me to sign again.
"Look at that." My shoulders jumped up as he spoke over them. "'Karishma Mehta' is just perfect."
