I loved him only. Craved him only. Moreover, wanted to marry him only, if I ever considered marriage. But let’s just say things didn’t work out that way. One lovely afternoon, I was asked by my parents to get married to any man who I may like. I laughed at this.
Being a 29 year old daughter of Asian parents, their demand didn’t come as a shock to me. Although what made me laugh was the ‘any man who I may like’ part. It had been 10 years since the love of my life left me. Even if this sounds startling, I still loved him the same and never was I able to look up at another man.
I missed him. Terribly. I was never the same after him. It was as if he had drained life out of me.
But it had been too much. It had been too much of sleepless nights, stalking his social media, secretly contacting random people around him just to know he was still breathing. But most of all, it had been way too much of letting my parents endure the torture of seeing me die every single day.
Unfortunately or fortunately, I don’t know, I also happened to be their only daughter. They invested their money, love and dreams in me. A graceful, tall, extremely witty, bright girl graduated from one of the best colleges around the world. I was that girl. I ‘was’. So I’m sure it wasn’t easy to see that girl die every single day. It must be like seeing everything you ever lived for, go down the drain. I was sorry. Trust me I was very sorry but I didn’t do anything on purpose. It was as if I lost my own purpose. I started hating myself. I woke up every morning, saw my face, and even that reminded me of him. I didn’t want to dress up or go out anymore. I wanted to hate myself. But I forgot when I made my parents a part of my anxiety too.
I was so sure that he had forgotten me completely in between vodka shots and drunk talks with strangers all around the worlds. Or spending nights with different women. Women. I tensed up at the mere thought. I always did. I deep down knew this part was inevitable but dear lord, could I not bear it. Beautiful women. Wearing something in black or red of that skimpy material. My grip on the chair became stronger, till my knuckles went white for sure. Tears burned in my eyes taking in the entire image of him indulging with other women. He wasn’t mine. He never was. I wasn’t even slightly worth that honour but how strange was this that every time, I thought of another person touching him, it felt like someone was stealing something from me? Why did I feel anger when someone said something against him? Why did I get so possessive to defend him, the way a mother does when somebody says something very valid about her spoilt child?
‘Sarah! What happened?!’ I heard my mom scream and jerk me. Apparently I had zoned out. Once again. I was shaking and had spilled the entire tea on my shirt. I quickly composed myself, looked into my father’s eyes and told him, ‘find a man you like, and I’ll get married to him. I trust your choice more than I trust mine.’ And smiled slightly, and he smiled back. But why was it a sad smile?
Author’s note: I’m writing this after so long. And it’s special because it took a lot of courage for me to start writing again. I felt like I had almost lost this ability, but I’m trying. I know this is short but I promise the next part will be really long. In fact I wrote this part on my way from Washington to Maryland haha. Also, I promised a friend I’d write on this topic so I had to. This is mainly about an arranged marriage thing, which happens to be very common in our country. I have never really written about this or even about marriage basically so let’s see how this goes. I love trying out new topics and you giving it a read would mean a lot. Thank you!