Flashback......

Four years back........

Everything in my life was as simple as it looked. A father and mother, an elder brother and a step sister, who was and is also my childhood bestfriend. Her parents and my parents were family friends and my parents adopted her when she lost her's in a crash, when we were eight.

From what I remember of my childhood about my parents it was all either father scolding me or my mother glaring at me the moment her eyes falls on me. They never considered me to be there in the house. Till I had Megha come live with me all I had was worn out clothes that were so small for me and sometimes I had to borrow my brother's old shorts and tees to wear. And some brand new dresses that Megha's mom would buy for me.

When Megha came to stay with us I was the happiest. Not only that I had got a sister with me but my parents would at least let me always be with her, like a lost puppy. Till then all I went out was either to go to school or to meet my grandparents. But when she came I got to go for my parent's friends parties and even family dinners in restaurants. I never talked to them if I weren't asked to. I never asked them for any thing, just would take whatever they gave me. The only gifts I would get during celebrations were from my brother, sister and grandparents.

Both my brother and sister meant world to me. They always made me feel loved. They were always there on my either sides when I messed up with my parents and got in trouble. My brother always stood up for me and would even fight for me, when I wouldn't dare say a word, with mom and dad, though they adored him. I guess he knew how much mom and dad hated me, their own blood even when they could love my best friend/sister.

And that was the reason I started working as tutor and babysitter during high school. I always felt like a charity case. When Megha went to the same college that my brother went, and despite them both forcing me to go to the same, I went to a college two states across, on a hard earned scholarship and refused to use the money that they both would send, a small portion of their monthly allowance that my parents gave them. When they didn't stop sending me money I all together transferred what was theirs into their bank account and closed mine and opened a new one.

During my first year I worked as a part-time bartender in two different clubs and also as a receptionist in a clinic. During second year I got selected for an internship programme which allowed me to save a little more as well as complete my college.

After graduation I worked in the same event management firm where I had joined during my internship, when my parents decided to marry me off. And when you ask why, let me tell you. My sister was madly in love with her high school sweetheart, Ajay. So when they decided to get married his parents had given their consent but only on one condition, his twin brother also had to get married on the same day. And so began the 'bride hunt'. Every girl they found she would end up rejecting him with lame excuses. It was actually entertaining to hear my sister telling all about girls rejecting the groom who had looks as well as money and also the heir to the nation's biggest advertising company. And then finally my sister had the most brilliant idea to invite her fiance's family one night at home for dinner. All that the groom's parents did was take one look at me and then talk to me personally first and then to my parents. Two months from there I found myself married to my high school crush.

Pooja. Pooja Tiwari. That's my name, or should I say was. Staring at the mirror I have to remind myself I'm no more a Tiwari but a Kashyap.

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I have been sitting here in our room for what seems like half an hour waiting for my beloved husband to come. It's supposed to be my first night and I am here as a nervous wreck. I haven't even properly had a conversation with him. He was three years ahead of me in Highschool and the only time we met were when I was with Megha and she would forced me to sit at their table so that she had someone along with her other than Ajay. Even then we didn't speak only polietly smile at each other and obviously he had girls falling all over him.

What am I supposed to do? Or what am I supposed to say when he comes? God! All this is just so damn confusing. Why had I agreed to get married?

That night when the Kashyaps came home two months back, all his mother told was he was a handful and never to listen to whatever rubbish he was about to spew then. Her words not mine. That night he had tried maybe a hundred times to talk to me when either his mom or dad would interfere and give him a long look as if daring him to speak and would then continue the awkward conversation. Since then we didn't have any proper conversation. Megha and Ajay did try a lot to set up double dates along with them but only two were successful. And these two were as awkward as the beginning where both of us would meet at some posh restaurant, order our food, eat in silence and return. The second time I paid the bill when he glared at me so hard that if looks could kill I would be already 6 feet under.

I break from my thoughts when I feel the bed dip on the other side. He had already changed and was ready to sleep. He looks at me in confussion and that's when I realise I was still wearing the same gown hours back from our wedding party. I blush so hard from embarrassment while he chuckles and tell me my dresses were already arranged inside his closet. The walk in closet had sliding doors which were full length mirrors and the closet itself was bigger than I thought, of course he is filthy rich.

One side had all of his suits hanged and other few dresses neatly folded. While the other side was half full with a variety of ladies clothes, from formals to casuals to party wears. I look in there only to find none of the clothes were mine but they were also new, with the tag still there, including the innerwears. That was not all, there was also a new make-up set (which I never use, well except for the eyeliner), bangles, bracelets, chains, earrings, etc etc all were new.

Grabbing a pair of pyjamas, bra and panty I walk to the bathroom and close the door to see him working in his laptop sitting on the bed. I quickly take a bath and dress, and then walk back to the closet to hang the gown all the way to the other side of closet, so as to not spoil it, where there are no dresses but only rails and hangers to hang them. After coming out I lay on the bed, with my legs stretched and my back to the headboard and look at him to see him still working. How do I start a conversation? Or should I even talk? Before I can even decide my mouth opens on its own...........

"Arjun.....", shit! Stupid mouth. What am I supposed to say now?

"Hmm...", his eyes still on the laptop.

"Thank you.", I try to keep my voice even and not show my nervousness.

This time he looks at me with his right eyebrow raised, which makes my heart beat triple it's speed.

"For the dress.", God! Why are my hands sweating. I try not to look at his handsome face.

He nods and looks away confused and his automatically scratches the back of his neck. Suddenly realisation hits him and he reply with a very, very, small smile.

"It was mom and Megha. Not me."

"Oh.", I'm going to skin that girl alive.

Not knowing what more to tell I start staring at my hands at is covered in mehandi designs. After what seemed like ages he cleared his throat and looked up at him, only to see him staring at me. I raise an eyebrow at him and stares for two more seconds before deciding to talk.

"Pooja....."

"Hmm..."

"Why did you agree to this marriage?"

I shrug. "It wasn't like I had any other option. My parents, sister, brother, even your parents wanted, sorry basically forced us to get married. Also I needed a good reason to leave that hell hole of a house."

"So that means you aren't serious about this marriage, right?", he asks running his fingers through his hair and with a hint of tension in his voice.

I don't know how to answer that question because I didn't even think about it. So the next safe thing than answering his question with an answer was to answer him with another question.

"Why? Aren't you serious?"

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