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Isha gave me a long look, and although I expected her to be relieved I wasn’t touching her, she looked almost miffed as she flounced out of the room.
CHAPTER 17
ISHA
My new husband had made his intentions crystal clear.
For all his claims about how he was going to make me scream with pleasure after we got married, he had clearly changed his mind. And I was delirious with joy about it. Really, I was. Ecstatic even, I thought as I folded my veil neatly and placed it on the counter. Because I didn’t want it any more than he did!
Next, I pulled off the heavy polki earrings that had made my earlobes ache all day and flung them on the vanity counter furiously. I didn’t know why I was so upset. It wasn’t as if I wanted him to fuck me. I just didn’t understand why he pretended to want me so much. I shucked off my bangles violently, dropping them all on the folded veil because I knew his mother would murder me if I damaged their heirloom jewellery.
I was going to bundle all of this and give it back to her tomorrow, I decided. From now on, this bride was going to stick to her jeans and tees. I’d had enough of this marriage drama, first with the emotional moments during the jai mala and pheras when I - mistakenly - thought we had some sort of deep connection, and then, the anticipation that had been building for the past whole week, thanks to his big talk about how desperately he wanted me. Yet, when push came to shove, his desire vanished in a poof of hot air, I ranted silently, as I unpinned my heavily embroidered dupatta that weighed a ton and dumped it in a corner of the bathroom. I never wanted to see the damn thing again.
I braced my hands against the edge of the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. I had starved myself all week because I didn’t want to be fat on my wedding night. It was anti-climactic, that’s all. It wasn’t as if I was disappointed. Because let’s face it. I had been here before.
Rejected by His Highness Ranveer Singh Sisodia.
So why did it take me by surprise? He was proving yet again what I already knew. That Veer. Did. Not. Want. Me.
So what was that crap he’d said earlier all about? Why did he pretend he couldn’t take his eyes off me? The casual cruelty of his pretence was what had gutted me. I hadn’t asked for any of those compliments.
For a few hours, he made me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet. And then, he took it away in one stroke. One look at my body as I stood before him in my wedding finery and he lost all his so-called desire to make me his forever.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I wondered if I was so unattractive that just one proper look would put a man off. But then, my years of therapy kicked in and I remembered that this was on him. It was okay for him to not want me. But it was not okay for him to play with my emotions.
As I tried to undo the knot on my blouse, I realised that in my hurry to run and hide, I had forgotten to bring my PJs into the bathroom.
The old Isha would have withdrawn into her shell and hidden her body away under loose clothes. The new Isha tossed her head and vowed to never hide from anyone because I wasn’t ashamed of anything. If Veer didn’t like looking at me, he could turn his face away.
I gathered up the jewellery and the veil and marched back into the bedroom in my lehenga and blouse. When Veer looked up at me in surprise, I wished I hadn’t discarded my dupatta in the bathroom. But I remembered my resolve to never be ashamed of my body and straightened my spine.
“Ranveer Singh Sisodia, you are a pig,” I declared furiously, throwing the jewellery on the dressing table.
He had changed into a black t-shirt and grey boxers, and I was distracted by the sight of his bare calves. I forced myself to throw him a scathing look. He sat up and scratched his tousled head in confusion.
“I beg your pardon?”
The blank look on his face ratcheted my anger up a few more levels. He had just taken my feelings on the toxic rollercoaster ride from hell and he didn’t even care.
“I said you’re a pig! And a disgusting one at that! If you try to play your dirty games with me ever again, I will gut you and feed your entrails to the hyenas in the desert,” I warned him, as I rummaged through the massive walk-in closet.
My mother had sent my clothes over yesterday and the staff had promised to unpack everything. They were as good as their word. I found all my clothes neatly organised on one side of the closet, with enough space on the other side for Veer’s stuff. I grabbed a tee and PJs and turned to leave, only to find my way blocked by a massive black wall.
“Say all that again, will you?” he growled. “Slowly, and this time, try to make more sense.”
His condescending tone set me off and I tried to push him out of my way. But he didn’t even budge. I wondered if he was made of concrete. Well, I hadn’t come all this way to chicken out of telling the truth. So I let him have it.
“These intimidation tactics don’t work on me anymore, Veer. So back the fuck off,” I bit out, standing on my toes to glare directly into his eyes.
He took a step back and then another, giving me enough room to breathe easily.
“Happy? Now, start talking,” he ordered.
“What do you want to hear? That I’m sick of your mind games? That I will never allow you to make me feel like shit again? Take your pick, husband dear.”
Veer held up a finger to stop my tirade.
“When have I ever played mind games with you, Isha?” he asked mildly.
