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One Hell of a Wedding

About Roshni Vijay

Roshni is a creative writer who enjoys reading between the lines and writing about it. Human behavior is most absurd yet interesting, she feels, hence the posts that you’ll read here. Enjoy & share your comments. She blogs at http://roshnivijayshoot.blogspot.in/
Twitter: @NoirIvy

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A white lily flowered in the garden, spreading its arms and looking at the imposing yet wondrous green world. Inside the house, a cheerful gathering commemorated the union of the bride and the groom. The two of them had exchanged vows and had become enveloped in a sheath of trust, yet chained with stubborn links in the morning, earlier that day.
As the newly-married couple set off for an exotic location, lily petals were thrust up in the driveway, settling down after a pompous show. They whizzed past a stretch of forested area, with cobwebs hanging throughout the stretch. Black widows, they had said—the people at the post-marriage party.
His wife back then used to love gardening. She was Sama. Sama was born with green fingers and of course a charm that his entire family raved about. Any man would have coveted Sama.  But that woman had chosen to be with him—a marriage of convenience. If she had refused to marry him, then she could have been sued for forgery, a mistake she had once made and had been forgiven by him. That was his condition. The ball was in his court. His reply to turning down many offers of being his arm candy. In their company, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in the lot and he was a man of pride. When she would be in his possession, flaunting her at his arm would uplift his status.
They got married and he was proud than ever. She would be another trophy in his triumphant life.  He owned her. She had always been terrified of spiders but it seemed as if he had been spinning the web from quite some time with unswerving precision. After marriage, he had consumed her vivacious, cheerful self with the tangible violent personification of his insecurities. The only error she made was her honest confession which led her to this.
She survived. She filled the crevices inside her attractive self as a result of incessant blows to her self-esteem. Angry at her own honest self, Sama had decided to take a step be whatever scared her most. She knew she could be anything she wanted to.
After a year of their marriage, Sama left the country and no one knew why. All that was left behind were seasonal flowers blooming amongst tufts of Kentucky bluegrass.
He had started caring for Sama. He could not bring himself to admit the same. For the first time after years, he felt something – even if a tinge of consistent pain within. He needed direction. He needed someone to tell him what to do.
He shut himself off from everyone for a considerable amount of time until someone made her way into his life silently with elegance and composure. She was nowhere like Sama whose laughter used to bounce off every wall before he made Sama marry him. But she was silent reassurance. She was his new manager at work. With every new project that he handled, he got an affirmative nod from her, which led to smiles, late-night office stays and countless Costa coffees. After many missed calls from across the corridor and the classic exchange of sweet nothings through tissue papers, he was built back together, bit by bit.
He loved the way she could take charge and control anything with her firm demeanor and the way she would be quick to take him in her arms, an embrace like no one else, where he felt ensnared in a comforting way. The only time he saw her letting her hair down literally, she would always tie her hair in a bun, was when she would dance. That made him feel special—someone dancing for him with a love that knew no bounds. She seemed to him like an enchanting spider swinging her arms and legs with the beats. He felt enchanted by that gesture like he used to, by Sama’s laughter. A chill would crawl down his back often.
She never let Sama’s garden wither down even though she did not like getting her hands dirty, as she used to say. That made his value evident in her actions.
Bitter Sweet Symphony played on the music player as they drove through the wooden stretch. Once they reached their special suite in a faraway resort that she had booked, a celebration had been planned for them in the garden.
Amidst lilies and twinkling garden lights, they raised a toast to a lifetime of happiness and surprises. He came to know that she had not only booked a room for their holiday, but she had bought the resort. For once in his life, he was led wherever she led him to and did whatever she wished. She was the boss in their relationship and he was still weak from the heartbreak.
He woke up in the middle of one night and there she was, looking at him. They confessed their love to each other yet again and slept entangled in each other’s arms.
He recovered from the heartbreak and his pride was back. He did not want to be led anymore. She could not understand the reason for this change as she did not know that she met him when he was not his true self.
He locked the resort and hid the keys. He could try and be the boss there, if not at office back in the city where they had to head back the next day. Office can wait, he thought. He told her that she could not own him. Memories of Sama came rushing back.
He sat in the hall and white lilies in every vase of the resort brought back the pain. He drank from the champagne bottle that had been toasted from the night of his second wedding—lived the charm of Sama once again.
He dragged himself to the bedroom.

A dead body was found in a rotting state a week after.
The forensics said that a black widow seemed to have showed its wrath.
He was dead and she was never seen again.
She mysteriously disappeared like Sama.
Angry at her own honest self, Sama had decided to take the step to be whatever scared her most. She knew that she could be anything she wanted to.

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