Mr Perfect

Alaya's Pov

He picked out something from his pocket and came back again to the couch.

"Here," he said, handing me a pen, casually sitting beside me.

I looked at that pen and then him in disbelief.

"What?... Do you want me to write a prescription for you?" I asked sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes on me for a second and then shook his head.

"I know you guys can treat dozens of species, but I'm very certain that your fraternity hasn't studied about me," he replied, being unapologetically mean and narcissistic.

Wasn't he a nice guy just a day before?

Or is he starting to show his true colours now that I'm married to him?

Although every cell of my brain wanted to tell him that I indeed have some knowledge about Orangutans, I stopped my inner voice and asked something else.

"Then, what is this?" I asked, showing him the pen.

"Recording device," he replied and pressed a small button located on that pen.

"Please do not do something foolish, Kabir" and within a moment I knew it was my father's voice. My eyes widened in shock and I turned to look at him. He bobbed his head like I knew you won't believe and gestured to me to listen.

"What are you saying, Uncle?" I heard Kabir's voice.

"I heard Alaya talking with you on the phone about you running away from the marriage" my dad's voice quickened my heart beat.

Silence. On both sides. Here when I'm listening to their voice and where the voices are being recorded.

Kabir tried to speak, fumbling. "Uncle... that... I".

But my dad didn't let him finish.

"Don't," he said, firm yet trembling. "Don't do this, Kabir."

His voice cracked, raw with fear and exhaustion.

"I'm already worried sick about Alaya. She's impulsive, yes, reckless, but I knew my daughter. She is just afraid of leaving us behind and entering into a new world.

But I couldn't believe that she was foolish enough to ask you that, but you" he paused, his breath shaky.

"Please forgive her, I'm begging you, ... A helpless father begging you to not let my reputation go in vain.

"I've always neglected her recklessness because I also knew that they boys weren't meant for he, but you're the one thing I was sure about. You're the one I believed was perfect for her." He said.

There was no anger in his voice now. Only a desperate hope, to see her daughter happy and married.

But I can never be happy Dad.

My heart began to pound against my chest.

My hands were trembling. The pen slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.

"He heard me," I whispered, panic rising in my chest. I shot up from the couch and started pacing, my mind spinning in a hundred directions.

And that... is how I single handedly ruined my full-proof plan.

Everything began exactly a month ago, a day like any other, or so I thought. Like every blessed fortnight, I was summoned with the age-old announcement,

Be ready, there's a guy coming to see you."

Now, don't get me wrong. My parents may have pushed me into this arranged marriage circus, but at least they granted me the royal liberty to use my own grey cells when it came to choosing the one.

I mean, fair enough, right?

So, like a very obedient daughter I rejected every guy. Taking accountability of the happiness of both parties. Me Vs My Parents. I took clever and calculative steps.

Until... my dad started sniffing Something's fishy.

He wasn't totally wrong, I had turned the whole process into a survival game. So, to outsmart me, we made a list the cursed checklist. If a guy ticked every damn box on that sheet, I had to say yes.

No loopholes. No clever exits. Just yes.

And before you judge me.. no, I'm not perfect, nor am I out to belittle anyone. I just desperately wanted to escape this marriage. I thought I was winning.

But no.

That's when he entered.

Mr Perfect.

A romantic hero straight out of a Bollywood climax entering into my family like he owned the air they breathed. One by one, they all fell hard and fast in love with him.

Everyone except the girl.

The girl he had to marry.

Things escalated quicker than I could do anything and suddenly I was backed into a corner with no one listening to me. People no longer believing me that he might be Mr Perfect but I could never be Mrs Perfect.

So with my leftover two brain cells I did the best things I could do, I begged.

I begged him to just... disappear before it was too late.

Because here's the truth, I knew I couldn't run. One step out the door and my dad's heart would probably surrender before I even reached the gate.

And twenty-eight years of living in Indian society taught me one cold fact, if a groom ditches the wedding, the girl might as well take a rest from the marriage market. For at least a year.

May be more.

Because there must be something wrong with the girl.

So, I made the plan. The perfect, foolproof brilliant plan. With Mr Perfect.

Only to ruin it.

By myself.

My eyes landed on the window glass, my reflection staring back at me, draped in bridal attire. My hands were heavy with kangans and bangles, each clinking sound echoing like a warning.

My forehead was smudged with red sindoor, and the mangalsutra clung tightly around my neck like it was my fate.

The veil cascade over my forehead, framing me like the most beautiful bride ever to exist. But it was all a lie. Every inch of it was superficial, a painted illusion.

Inside, I was screaming. I wanted to rip it all off. I wanted to run, run so far that my body would collapse, breathless, crumbling under the weight of my desperation.

I wanted to disappear into a distance so vast, so unreachable, that even fear couldn't find me.

I needed to escape, so far away that the crawling, bone-chilling dread could no longer wrap its fingers around me. So far away that those voices would fade into silence, and I could finally live without fear.

I could feel the sweat beads forming on my forehead each one a silent scream from within. My chest tightened, breath shallow, as I braced myself for the familiar wave. A panic attack was creeping up on me.

I tried, I tried to silence the voices in my head. But they screamed louder, clawing at the walls of my sanity.

"Alaya."

His voice sliced through the chaos, silencing every other voice rattling in my mind.

I blinked, dragged back into the present, and there he stood right in front of me. Between me and my reflection. Like a wall. Like a shield.

He was blocking them. The reflection. The thoughts. The fear.

His face was twisted into some strange emotions, that I wasn't able to decipher.

He stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully. His hand rose and brushed against my cheek. Warm. Like the final rays of sunset brushing against your skin after a long, cold day.

And somehow, I didn't flinch.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft but worry written all over them.

"Yeah... I'm fine," I lied, forcing a shaky breath as I gently pulled his hand away, wiping away the sweat from my forehead.

"You looked flushed. I thought maybe... you're running a fever," he said, his eyes scanning me, soaked in concern. "Go and freshen up, you'll feel good" he added gently.

I obeyed.

I stood under the shower. The cold drops falling on my skin. I stood there, still, letting the water drown the noise inside. It had always been the only thing that helped, sorting my thoughts.

And the events of the day started playing in my mind and it all ended with a one truth, truth that I was married

And there was no way out.

No escape.

I needed to find a way. I had to.

I stepped out, changing myself into a fresh off-white suit. I again looked in the mirror, nothing changed. My reflection still feel the same. Even after being in the shower for so long the red tint from the sindoor was still there on my forehead. My hands are covered in mehendi.