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“Stop throwing a tantrum, Ari,” I scold, raising my voice slightly, and her lips flatten into a thin line. “They won’t work on me. Seriously, what kind of demand is this anyway? Marriage is not a joke.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“Do you? Because it appears as though you don’t.”
“I understand it’s a big deal and a life-altering decision,” she replies seriously.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Her eyes narrow while she retorts, “But you can’t keep avoiding it, Bianca.”
“Forcing me into one isn’t the solution.”
There was a time when I longed for the same things. You know, meeting a man and falling in love, marriage—the whole nine yards. Then reality crashed into me like a tidal wave and shattered all my dreams.
Love isn’t real and neither are happily ever afters.
“Why are you so against it, Bee?” questions Arya, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“I never said that.” I sigh, frustration lacing every word. The topic has become a trigger for me in the last year. Calming down, I softly explain, “I’m just not ready, okay? And I certainly won’t get into an arranged marriage.”
Arya frowns while processing my words in the tensed silence. I take in her shoulder-length hair which she curled into waves. It complements her round face with full cheekbones and small lips.
My sister is stunning and has people wrapped around her fingers with her witty personality, while I’m reserved and don’t trust people easily and like to keep my group small.
We’re as different as day and night.
Her looks and features are soft, whereas mine are slightly edgy. Black hair, brown eyes and full lips with sharp cheekbones. My body has curves for days with doubleD’s, which I have both a love and hate relationship with. Arya, on the other hand, is lean and fit due to being athletic her whole life.
When my sister stays quiet for too long, I plump down on the sofa while pondering why she’s being so insistent in convincing me. There’s obviously more she isn’t telling. The old her wouldn’t have hesitated in sharing her secrets.
“You’re seriously fucking up with my plans.” Her words confirm my suspicions.
“What plans?”
Ignoring my question, she guesses, “Do you not know how to date? Having problems meeting a guy? I could always set you up with Aryan’s friends.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I’m actually offended that she believes that could be the reason. Is the idea of a woman being happily single and not running toward marriage so foreign? I’ve been on dates, but none that turned into something more.
Because you never really tried.
I shake the taunting voice out of my head.
“Oh, come on. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Ari consoles.
“Oh my god!” I shake my head.
“Arranged marriages aren’t that bad either.”
“Are you seriously that desperate to marry me off, Arya?” I lose my cool. “What has gotten into you?”
“Jeez. You’re so stubborn.” She huffs.
“And you’re acting spoiled.”
A mocking laugh spills from her throat and I recoil at the sound. When worry twists her features mixed with frustration, I pause and softly demand, “Talk to me, Ari. Why are you really asking me for this?”
