with a shrug.
So the blame game began. “To think that for the next six months I have to tolerate this every single day! It is unthinkable!” She sat down on a stool stiff with frustration and began to brush her hair with her fingers.
“Yes it
is
unthinkable that I have to bear with your ill-tempered, uncompromising attitude for such a long time. All you have done is belittle me, since the day I decided to marry you, just so that you could get even with me at all costs.”
“What are you talking about?” She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“You deliberately insulted me with that hideous thingyou wore for our engagement. It looked like a giant, shiny orange pumpkin! Everyone was sniggering! You seem to derive pleasure in making a fool of me. If I had not appointed Aparna to take care of your trousseau you would probably have worn a table cloth to the wedding!”
The accusation stumped her into silence but not for too long. “How dare you say such a horrible thing?” She was panting with the effort of putting a lid on her temper. “You don’t know anything about me! I
don’t
enjoy hurting others! Unlike your obsession for trivial things like stylish dressing, I have better things to think about! It is no wonder that you have turned out the way you have! I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with a man who is so fickle! I would rather marry a man who accepts me as I am, whether I am wearing a tablecloth, or a bobbinet, or a … loofah!”
Zara was blurting out words without thinking. She jabbed a finger at his chest and stepped in closer. “Some of us less ‘privileged’ people have different and serious priorities. All you do is run each other down because so-and-so is not wearing a designer outfit or not flaunting a sinfully exorbitant bag, cut out of a dead animal, the cost of which could feed a starving population. It’s called entertainment when someone is seen flashing a milliondollar surgically enhanced pair of assets!” She took a deep breath and continued, “I am not surprised that you don’t want commitment in marriage! You are too shallow to think of any woman with respect or real love! No woman worth her salt would ever genuinely want to stay married to a mulish, boor like you!”
Armaan knew then what white-hot fury meant. His hands balled into fists as his voice lowered into a growl, “Well, it’s a surprise that
you
managed to land a husband at all! If I am not worthy of being a husband then
you
are not perfect wife material either! Your bitter waspish tongue can burn down a man’s home! You are a vengeful, spiteful shrew! In fact, had your mother been alive she would have been very hurt to see you like this! It is a blessing that she is not present to rue this day.”
The silence that followed that statement was an explosion. The moment the last words left his errant tongue, Armaan knew that he had gone too far.
Zara went deathly pale. It would have killed her to admit that his acid comment had gashed deep into old wounds. But she was too enraged to take it lying down.
Without a second thought, or remorse, her hand shot out and slapped hard across his face.
5
There was an excruciating silence when only the sound of the thunder outside was heard. Zara saw Armaan’s face harden into a mask of unmitigated rage as his lips thinned into a deadly slash.
The growing red weal on his cheek did nothing to ease the agonizing wound in Zara’s heart caused by his thoughtless, cruel words.
A fury he could not control any longer broke loose. Armaan grabbed her shoulders and backed her against the wall. For long moments he held her tight against his body, feeling the blood thrum through his veins at her close proximity. Their eyes locked in challenge. Then his mouth was crushing her lips to submission in every possible way. Every inch of that hard unyielding body welded against her squirming one, extracting sweet revenge. She gasped when he nipped her bottom lip none
So the blame game began. “To think that for the next six months I have to tolerate this every single day! It is unthinkable!” She sat down on a stool stiff with frustration and began to brush her hair with her fingers.
“Yes it
is
unthinkable that I have to bear with your ill-tempered, uncompromising attitude for such a long time. All you have done is belittle me, since the day I decided to marry you, just so that you could get even with me at all costs.”
“What are you talking about?” She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“You deliberately insulted me with that hideous thingyou wore for our engagement. It looked like a giant, shiny orange pumpkin! Everyone was sniggering! You seem to derive pleasure in making a fool of me. If I had not appointed Aparna to take care of your trousseau you would probably have worn a table cloth to the wedding!”
The accusation stumped her into silence but not for too long. “How dare you say such a horrible thing?” She was panting with the effort of putting a lid on her temper. “You don’t know anything about me! I
don’t
enjoy hurting others! Unlike your obsession for trivial things like stylish dressing, I have better things to think about! It is no wonder that you have turned out the way you have! I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with a man who is so fickle! I would rather marry a man who accepts me as I am, whether I am wearing a tablecloth, or a bobbinet, or a … loofah!”
Zara was blurting out words without thinking. She jabbed a finger at his chest and stepped in closer. “Some of us less ‘privileged’ people have different and serious priorities. All you do is run each other down because so-and-so is not wearing a designer outfit or not flaunting a sinfully exorbitant bag, cut out of a dead animal, the cost of which could feed a starving population. It’s called entertainment when someone is seen flashing a milliondollar surgically enhanced pair of assets!” She took a deep breath and continued, “I am not surprised that you don’t want commitment in marriage! You are too shallow to think of any woman with respect or real love! No woman worth her salt would ever genuinely want to stay married to a mulish, boor like you!”
Armaan knew then what white-hot fury meant. His hands balled into fists as his voice lowered into a growl, “Well, it’s a surprise that
you
managed to land a husband at all! If I am not worthy of being a husband then
you
are not perfect wife material either! Your bitter waspish tongue can burn down a man’s home! You are a vengeful, spiteful shrew! In fact, had your mother been alive she would have been very hurt to see you like this! It is a blessing that she is not present to rue this day.”
The silence that followed that statement was an explosion. The moment the last words left his errant tongue, Armaan knew that he had gone too far.
Zara went deathly pale. It would have killed her to admit that his acid comment had gashed deep into old wounds. But she was too enraged to take it lying down.
Without a second thought, or remorse, her hand shot out and slapped hard across his face.
5
There was an excruciating silence when only the sound of the thunder outside was heard. Zara saw Armaan’s face harden into a mask of unmitigated rage as his lips thinned into a deadly slash.
The growing red weal on his cheek did nothing to ease the agonizing wound in Zara’s heart caused by his thoughtless, cruel words.
A fury he could not control any longer broke loose. Armaan grabbed her shoulders and backed her against the wall. For long moments he held her tight against his body, feeling the blood thrum through his veins at her close proximity. Their eyes locked in challenge. Then his mouth was crushing her lips to submission in every possible way. Every inch of that hard unyielding body welded against her squirming one, extracting sweet revenge. She gasped when he nipped her bottom lip none
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