Chapter Seven
Arya
It’s been two weeks since I kissed Nathan and got brutally rejected. Yet I’m still mortified as ever. After everything he did, how could I be so stupid and come on to him?
Every time I close my eyes, his handsome face, rigid with tension and bewilderment, pops up. What did I do next? I ran like my ass was on fire.
Have I grown such low self-esteem? Left damaged by Aryan’s betrayal? Why else would I kiss a man who’s clearly hung up on his ex? Not that I’m completely over mine.
I blame Anaya.
She filled my head with her nonsense ideas and magnificent dicks.
“Have a rebound, my ass.”
Speak of the devil, the doorbell rings. Laying my floral and lace dress on the bed, I walk to the front door and unlock it.
“Hola!” Anaya winks, holding up her vanity bag. “Your makeup fairy is here.”
It isn’t a brag.
Anaya is a talented stylist and makeup artist, whose services I get to use for free by playing the best friend card. Also, because she’d kick my ass if I tried to pay. I earned a punch in the arm the last time I took the warning lightly.
Pushing past me, she lets herself in and trudges to my bedroom.
I follow her.
“Which dress did you pick for tonight?” she inquires. “Western or traditional? Is it black tie? If so, a cocktail dress or an evening gown?”
“It’s semi-formal. Sorta laid-back,” I reply, then point to the bed. “I picked this.”
“Holy moly,” she exclaims, running toward my outfit and carefully picking it up. “That is a sexy-as-fuck dress. When did you buy this?”
My smile falters as my chest squeezes tight. “I was going to wear it on my honeymoon.”
I had half a mind to throw it away, but I didn’t want Aryan to have such power over me that I’d ruin such a stunning dress.
It’s a mini purple dress with a plunging neckline, made of lace, purple flowers, and diamond beads. Formfitting till my belly button before flaring out into a flowy skirt. It stops just above my thighs when I wear it.
“Oh no, no,” tsks Anaya, caressing the delicate lace. “This is a revenge dress.”
“Revenge dress?”
“Yep. Meant to be worn by a seductress that men bow down to.” Shrugging, she teases, “Or, you know, a perfect rebound dress.”
“No!” I grumble. “You’re not starting that again.”
“Lord! Don’t tell me you’re still embarrassed.”
“He rejected me!” I throw up my hands in exasperation. “Literally shoved me off him like I tasted gross or something.”
“I’m not saying he couldn’t have had more tact. But you can’t let one bad experience stop you from getting laid.”
“I’m not chasing Nathan.” Lest I want to look like a stalker.
“Who said go after him again? He’s not the only man on the planet.”
“I’m not interested in sex.” I stalk into my walk-in closet, clad in my robe. “With anyone.”
“This fuck-me dress.” She points at herself next. “Combined with my magic hands that’ll turn you into a minx, men will swarm around you like bees to honey tonight.”
“Do you know who else brings scream-worthy orgasms?”
She cocks her hip. “You mean, a vibrator?”
“Yes.”
“That’s just pathetic, Aru.” Setting the dress aside, she marches to my side and pushes me to sit in front of my dresser. “It’ll never compare to a real man who can tease and caress you.”
“A vibrator won’t break my heart.”
“Unless the battery dies. That shit hurts as bad as a breakup.”
She utters it so seriously that I burst out laughing. “You’re nuts.”
“All I’m saying is if a man flirts with you tonight, don’t be afraid to be daring.”
“Why is my getting laid so important to you?”
Her loving gaze meets mine in the mirror. “Because I’ve known you since we were teens and you’ve never been single. It’s not a bad thing and has perks.”
She’s right.
I’ve always been in a committed relationship. I had two boyfriends in school, then I met Aryan in college and we fell hard and fast. Out of them, I slept with two.
Why am I afraid of being alone?
“Perhaps it’s time you enjoyed those perks and let yourself be young and wild.”
“I guess they must be fun,” I joke. “Since you take advantage of those very often.”
She skirts her gaze away, making a noncommittal noise.
Very odd. “Anaya?”
“I’m thinking a smoky eye look with a dark purple shade─”
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” she utters too quickly.
“Don’t you dare.”
Twisting, she leans her hip against the edge of the dresser. Waving her hand, she casually confesses, “I may be seeing someone.”
“Seriously?” I grin. “Why would you hide that?”
“Because I met him online on a dating app.”
“Are you scared he’s not real?” I lurch back, gasping, “Please tell me you’ve seen his face, like on a video call or something?”
“Of course! I’m not stupid.”
“So, what’s the issue?”
“Several,” she sighs.
“Like what?”
“He’s American and lives in Montana.”
“But you guys have met?” She says nothing. “Anaya!”
“People can get close without meeting in person, Arya,” she argues. “That’s literally the foundation of online apps. It’s not like we’ll never meet. Our schedules aren’t aligning. He has a nine-to-five job. You know how corporate jobs are.”
“So, it’s not casual?”
She stares pointedly. “Do you think I’d waste three months on something casual?”
“Wow.” I’m stunned. My commitment-phobe best friend has fallen for a guy. I see it in her eyes that she’s smitten. “What’s his name?”
“Jack.” Her voice is dreamy. “He’s funny, smart, and so handsome. I am dying to meet him. I think I’ll fly to the US and surprise him.”
“Hold your horses, miss.” I raise my palm. “I would like to meet him virtually first. I want to know the man who made my best friend stop leaving a string of broken hearts along the way.”
She laughs before peering at me brightly. “I would like that, Aru. I’m going to need you in my corner when I tell my parents about him.”
“Stop! You’ll give me a heart attack.”
“Oh Shush!”
“Jack must really be special.”
“He is.” Brushing her palms on her pants, she says, “Enough about him. Let’s turn you into a seductress.”
***
“Didn’t I tell you to wear a sari, Arya?” hisses my mother in my ear after tugging me into a corner by my elbow as soon as I arrive.
My father is nowhere to be seen.
Her long nails dig into my skin harshly, but she’s oblivious. “I don’t feel comfortable in them, Ma. Besides, hardly anyone is wearing a sari.”
Traditional attire isn’t my style either, unless it’s festival season.
A melancholy feeling rises in my gut as I remember Bianca dragging me to the mall all week long before the festival so we could shop together.
The last time we went was for her wedding reception after my parents and I found out she had eloped with Dash.
Except, it was a marriage of convenience she forced herself into so that I could become engaged to Aryan. Our parents are very traditional and wouldn’t allow my marriage unless my elder sister settled down first.
Bianca sacrificed her future for mine.
The guilt of it still eats me alive. The only consolation I have is that her fake marriage turned into a real one. Dash worships the ground she walks on.
“This is our first outing as a family since the humiliating disaster. You look like a hussy, Arya,” scolds my mother. “No one’s going to allow their son to marry you dressed like that. Have you not embarrassed us enough?”
My throat closes up as I swallow the hiccup while tears sting my eyes.
With a scathing glare, she releases my arm and walks away.
I linger in the corner, trying to compose myself.
My mother wasn’t always so harsh and mean. I was the apple of her and my father’s eyes. It’s after both their pride took a hit when Bianca cut us out of her life that their controlling nature increased tenfold.
Every step of mine was scrutinized. Every decision needed to have their approval. Under no circumstances was I to ever reach out to Bianca unless I wanted to be disowned.
I did it all to appease them, in the hope that it was all temporary because everyone’s emotions were high.
It was na?ve thinking that one day we’ll all be a family once we’ve all calmed down.
Days turned into months. Months into years.
Nothing changed.
There was no light at the tunnel, but a locked gate.
Ever since, I’ve resented my parents for making me a villain in my sister’s eyes. Getting married to Aryan was my one chance to get out from under their thumb. I can’t breathe when I’m in their presence.
It’s another reason why I’ll never forgive Aryan. He’s witnessed firsthand how my parents have treated me like crap over the years. The pressure to be the perfect daughter who’s soft-spoken and does whatever her father tells her to.
Without giving me a warning, he plunged me back into my prison.
A part of me wonders if he made his decision because he didn’t want to be a part of my dysfunctional family.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in and out.
In and out.
Until I don’t feel like I’m going to faint. Smoothing a hand down my skirt, I summon confidence as I turn back and walk into the ballroom. Any time someone gazes at me, my mother’s remark flies to the forefront of my mind.
Do they also think I look like a hussy?
Is my dress too revealing?
Do I look like a prostitute?
Fuck. My thoughts spiral like water falling down a stream.
Drink.
I need a tall drink. Finding the bar across the room, I stalk toward it as though I’m on a mission to quench my last dying thirst. Setting my small clutch on the bartop once I reach it, I lean forward with my palms resting on the surface. “Hello.”
The bartender turns his head toward my voice.
“Can I get a martini, please?” He nods. “Make it strong.”
I pull back, reaching for my clutch.
“Arya.”
The cautious voice sends a trickle of alarm down my spine. I stand still for the longest second, trapped against the bar by Aryan’s presence behind me.
My fight-or-flight instinct is warring inside my head.
Why won’t he leave me alone now that I don’t wish to see him? More importantly, how did he know I’m attending this party?
“Baby, look at me.”
The endearment brings a wave of fury. I whirl around, snapping, “I’m not your fucking baby!”
He flinches, yet steps closer. “I just want to explain and say sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“You mean, ditching me at the altar in front of our friends and family?”
“I… I panicked.”
“And ran out of the country like a coward.”
“I thought of our future and got overwhelmed,” he explains, inching into my personal space. “The responsibility of taking care of you scared me.”
“Taking care of me?”
“You got clingy.”
“Clingy?” I keep parroting back his words because they’re not making sense.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “After the drama with your sister and her separation, you changed. We used to have so much fun, but suddenly, you were crying and sad all the time. Complaining about how much your parents were suffocating you.”
My chest cracks wide open in a gut-wrenching pain. Each sentence is a knife digging into my weak heart inch by inch.
“When things improved a little after we became engaged, suddenly you couldn’t shut up about the wedding and having it so soon.” He tips his glasses up his nose. “You used to be ambitious, but then you were all about family, family, family. It was a lot of pressure.”
“Me leaning on you during the toughest years of my life was clingy to you?” I hate the hitch in my tone. “If I can’t lean on the man I love, who else am I supposed to lean on? I can’t believe my sadness was such a burden to you.”
He shakes his head, grabbing my shoulders. “It’s what I felt back then, but I’ve realized how wrong I was. When I saw you after all these months, it hit me that I had made a terrible mistake. I’m an idiot for walking out on us.”
Trailing his hand down my arm, he intertwines his fingers through my limp hand. “Give me another chance.”
“No.” I jerk my hand from his grip. “Do you know what your little speech told me?”
“What?”
“That you never loved me, Aryan.” I laugh, the sound hollow and dry. “The only good thing you did was show me your true colors before I tied myself to you.”
His eyes sharpen. “Is it because of him?”
“Who?”
“The man I saw you with at the restaurant.” Jealousy drips from his accusatory tone. “Are you hooking up with him?”
I’m about to shout how dare he ask me that when a shadow falls over us.
Nathan’s dangerously sexy voice pierces the air.
“What if she is?”