I Am His Bride… { An Indian Bl Saga } Knowing Arthit

ARTHIT: 

To say I was shocked when Ash talked about my secret relationship, would be an understatement. Reason? My relationship was the most secret thing in my life. But alas, it did not last long as I chickened out of it. 

Before I could ponder more on my previous relationship, we reached the marriage Hall and there were fireworks everywhere. I flinched at the sheer amount of pollution caused by a single wedding. After a few rituals with the groom, they let us in. 

The Hall kind of reeked of money and class. Mr. Malhotra had really spent a fortune on the wedding of his only daughter. I was strolling around near the altar, going towards the food section when I heard that one voice which I never expected to. I recognised it as clear as day in spite of not having heard it for the last three years. 

I turned around trying to locate that person but could only see a mop of black curls before he disappeared from my view. 

I stumbled into the restroom with the help of a waiter. I locked myself inside one of the stalls and ran a tired hand over my face. Even after three years, my heart still raced just from his voice.

 Fuck! 

I cursed under my breath. I had been the one to break up with him and then he left.  By the time I realized that he was the one for me, it was too late. 

I had to meet him somehow and at least tell him that it was my fault. But so many expectations from my family and friends still burden me. How could I forego everyone’s happiness for my own? This was the poor logic I had given myself. But I had not understood that in the process I had hurt him more than I ever imagined. Those eyes of his that looked at me in a all knowing look – yet not refuting my decision, still made me guilty whenever I recalled that incident. 

It was some random weekend. We were hanging out together at his dorm. A few weeks ago, we had had our summer break during which I and Ashwin had visited our relatives in India. Typical of Indian relatives, they conveyed all their expectations of us with such a glow on their face, we were unable to say anything. From where I don’t know, the discussion of marriage began. Everyone started daydreaming at the thought of choosing purchased brides. 

That evening itself there was a news about some actor coming out of the closet. My family had been religious, I knew that but their homophobia was on some other level. I was afraid, too very afraid, so afraid that I had to break up with him. My insecurities were hyping and my mind was on an overdrive. 

That fateful day, I had taken my chance and broken up with him. But the pained look in his eyes, the unshed tears, the little smile when he said, “I should have known better that you care more about others than yourself. But I don’t regret a moment of our time together. I hope you can live up to the expectations of others happily.” 

I furiously raked a hand through my hair and came out of the bathroom. The marriage rituals had already begun. God knows how long I had closed myself I’m that bathroom stall. 

I forced a smile on my face. Then they brought in the bride. She was the epitome of exotic Indian beauty. Rituals after rituals passed till it was the time for the pheres. Everyone was showering flowers on the new couple when I suddenly heard the laughter once more from the opposite direction. I looked across the room and my eyes locked with the only person that I had ever loved and hurt, Zayn Murad. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 

Pheres: It is a ritual of marriage in which the bride and the groom have to hold hands while walking around the marriage pyre seven times with the bride leading the groom and seven times with the groom leading the bride. A lot of vows are taken which I am too lazy to write. 

This was my Christmas update. Wishing all my readers, a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in advance. 

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Until next time. Hope to upload soon.