Destined With Him

1. WHY ME?

As I finished dressing up , I stare at my image in the mirror. Long black hair, with shades of brown, tied in a neat side plait, darkest brown eyes, and my tanned color skin, with a height of approx 5 feet 7 inches. 

The most usual and common you can be in a brown household. 

  I don't care about looking good , I don't care about my hair , I don't care about my clothes, nothing . 

All I care about is just running from here and starting a job somewhere , far , far away and never coming back.

To be as away from this house as possible. Where nobody would know me, and I wouldn't know anybody. 

 Why? because even though here are at least some of the people who might care about me, they can't help me out. I am an adult and I am just as helpless myself. 

I can't help myself out of this situation. 

Even though I've thought about actually eloping with my own self, a countless times, I just can't bring myself to do it. 

Not when I think about what am leaving behind. 

A loving mother and the sweetest and most caring sister this world could have given me. 

I can't leave knowing I'd leave them behind in these binding chains, which will slowly eat them alive. 

I can't leave knowing damn well, that I could have helped them out of it, but I chose to turn a blind eye, for my own sake. 

Now the doubt may arise, that I WILL leave them behind once am married, wouldn't I ?

But no, not in the same manner, I would if I run away. 

The one ray of hope, from many others, is just, that maybe, just maybe, if not me, than this marriage of convenience, would do at least, some good, to my mother and sister. 

Maybe me and my future husband, whoever it will be, maybe he'd listen to me, if I do as he says-

I stop my train of thoughts right there. 

No. I will not submit to any man. 

Yes, I will agree to this marriage. But I have taken this resolution years ago, that I will never let a man walk all over me, just like my father did to my mother. 

I can't believe I was actually thinking that. 

I curse the existence of these poor thoughts fed into the brains of Indian women to an extent, where unknowingly they'd happily make everyone their first priority except for themselves. 

Three knocks at my door pull me out from my trance and my mother comes in along with my younger sister . Her smile widens as soon as she sees me and she comes to stand behind me keeping her hands on my shoulders . 

"Woowww" Ishani gasps , yes , meet my younger sister , the overly-dramatic-all-the-time sister ."someone looks pretty". I role my eyes . 

"Isha , you look really really beautiful" my mother says and I smile, hoping she wouldn't caught on the fakeness. 

 I just wore a red color suit and pulled my hair in a side french braid, and a little make up .

"Ishaani , please go downstairs and take a last look on all the preparations." my mother says and Ishaani nods and walks out of the room  . 

My mother and me look at each other's reflection in the mirror and she smiles which doesn't really reach her eyes

"Is something wrong ?" I ask, and she shakes her head making me sit down on the stool in front of the dressing table.