Haven Of Love

CHAPTER 3: The Reluctant Engagement

From the moment my father uttered those words-"We should start talking about possible engagement dates"-I felt as if the walls surrounding my entire being were closing in.

My mother was already nodding with enthusiasm, thumbing through her phone for what was likely an auspicious day blessed by some astrologer I had never met.

I wanted to scream.

In lieu of such action, I flicked a quick glance at Arjun. He was composed as always, his face betraying nothing: no irritation, no reluctance, just the same polite, unreadable expression he had worn since we had first met.

Did nothing affect him?

The answer came a second later, when I caught the slight tension in his jaw, the almost invisible tightening of his fist against his knee.

Good; at least I was not alone in my torture.

Arjun's mother said, "You both make a wonderful match," her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "We have always known that when the time came, we would want a daughter-in-law who shared our values, our traditions.

" I swallowed back the urge to roll my eyes.

"Of course," my mother chimed, placing her hand on mine. It was meant to be a gesture of reassurance, but all I felt was Mukesh's weight of expectation pressing down on me-like in a cartoon. "Meera makes a wonderful wife.

" Before I could open my mouth to argue, to remind them all that I hadn't even said yes yet, Arjun spoke.

"I think we should take time to think about this," he said, a calm and measured voice. "Meera and I just met. This whole thing should not be rushed."

For the first time since this conversation started, I felt the slightest flicker of relief.

I had known it the moment I had gone into that meeting. No matter how much Meera and I resisted, our families were determined to make this happen. I should be angrier.

I should plan on escape. I was fascinated by Meera. For one, she was right across from me with a perfectly controlled look on her face but a fierce fire in her eyes that silently spoke of rebellion.

She wasn't what I had expected. I had anticipated someone more traditional, one that wouldn't have even questioned this match.

In contrast, Meera was sharp and independent. She didn't want this any more than I did, yet she wouldn't hesitate to push back, even in subtle ways.

That should make things fun. Two weeks on from there, the engagement festivities were to begin in earnest.

Engaged or not, kerchiefed or unkerchiefed, each family had commenced into preparations of some sort. One month had been decided for the wedding date; the rest of the events were a continuous whirlwind of rituals, ceremonies, and burn-outs of endless shopping trips.

When that was all over and done with, Meera and I had to tolerate this trouble together.

I saw her one evening waiting outside a boutique, arms folded across her chest, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"You seem thrilled,"

I said.

"If I have to try on one more saree, I'll probably go ahead and set this entire place on fire,"

she sighed.

"Well, that would definitely put an end to the engagement." She looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "That's an idea." I muttered,

"Unfortunately I think the families will still make sure it will work." "Probably," she huffed before pausing,

"What's your deal, anyway?" I arched an eyebrow. "My deal?" She gave her head a slight shake. "You're just too composed about this.

" Most guys in your position would be going bananas, trying to get out of this. But you're just... accepting.

" I hesitated a moment.

"I have learned that whenever one fights against family expectations, this only convinces them to press on more determined and assured of victory. Sometimes, playing along earns one more freedom in the long run.

" For a second there, Meera seemed to consider me. "You're saying that if we play pretend and go along with this, we might be able to find our way out?"

"Or buy us some breathing space until they lose all interest," I added. "Fine. But I will give you a warning: I will not be the compliant bride-to-be."

"I wouldn't expect any less." For the first time since we had met, she smiled. It was nothing more than a slight, brief upturn of the lips, but nevertheless it made me wonder whether, just maybe, this was not going to be as grueling as I had in mind.

Engagement Ceremony Preparations

There was so much chaos in the house. Relatives had started arriving, and my mother had gone into full-on wedding-planning mode.

With every hour, discussions about catering, decorations, and more guest list entries made it stretch out longer than ever.

Throughout all of this, Meera and I were paraded around as the perfect couple, made to sit next to each other, smile for pictures, and pretend like we weren’t secretly plotting our escape.

"If I have to listen to one more person say that we’re ‘such a lovely pair,’

I’m going to lose it,"

she leaned closer and whispered. I chuckled. "You had better get used to it, my dear. We have months of this ahead." She groaned, running her fingers across her temple.

"Who gets enjoyment out of this?" "Some people like tradition." "Well, some people also happen to think arranged marriages are romantic." I tilted my head in confusion.

"You don’t?" She shot me a look that could kill. "Do I seem like someone who believes in fairytales?" I pondered for a brief moment.

"No. But I think you believe in choice. And that's what bothers you the most about all of this, right?"

For a second she was quiet. Then, softly, "Yeah. It does." I didn’t expect her to be honest, and somehow, that made me respect her more. Before I could say anything, however, her mother called her away, leaving me standing there wondering what I just uncovered.

Engagement Day The ceremony was grand, exactly as expected. I played my role perfectly, smiling and nodding while receiving the blessings from relatives I barely recognized. Meera did the same, but I could see the stress behind her eyes.

What caught me by complete surprise was that moment later that night when we had somehow ended up on the terrace, away from the noise, with nobody to interrupt.

She stood with her back to me and gazed up at the stars above her head. "This is real now," she said quietly. I stepped beside her.

"Yeah, it is."

She turned to face me. "Do you think there is a version of this where we don't hate it?" I considered that. "Maybe." She exhaled.

"I still don't want this."

"Neither do I," I admitted. "But..." she hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe there is a way to make it less awful." That was the closest thing resembling hope I had ever heard from her.

I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I reached into my pocket and held out the diamond engagement ring, given to me earlier that day to place on her left ring finger.

"Here," I said.

"What are you doing?"

She frowned. "You keep it," I continued.

"That way, if you want to walk away, you'll be the one to decide." Her eyes had widened just a tiny bit at that. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

For the first time, her expression softened. Taking the ring slowly, she closed her fingers around it.

"Thanks," she said softly. At that moment, there was a shift between us.

We were still strangers, still reluctant participants in this arrangement. But for the first time, our indignation did not seem to unite us against it. Instead, it was becoming more and more clear that we were figuring this thing out together.