Calix

If I were to describe Isha's family in two words, it would be wholesomely loud.

As soon as Isha had opened the door, I could see numerous figures rushing through, inside, and some coming right to me and staring, as if I were a rare piece of artefact in a museum.

I remember Isha mentioning that she has over two hundred relatives, from both her parents' side. Then the number of people inside Isha's apartment, aren't even half of them. If I didn't catch every information wrong then we (doesn't this sound like we are a married couple—okay, perhaps I should stop) are being visited by Isha's parents, her paternal uncle and aunt and their partners; her three maternal aunts, and their husbands. Not to mention, four of them (three men, one woman), who seem to be close to Isha's age are, I am assuming her cousins. There is also a little baby, who has been sitting in his perambulator and for some reason, giving me stoic, sour stares. Quite a contrast to his elder sister, a seven-year-old girl, who has been blushing every time I politely smile at her.

And I finally got to meet Isha's two sisters, Anvi and Aria.

All in all, it was a chaos. Well, a lovely chaos.

I take that back. I feel suffocated under the eyes of Isha's father, her paternal uncle Arnab Sen, paternal aunt's husband Sourav Das, and her three maternal aunts' husbands, Debjit Roy, Tiyash Chatterjee and Deb Bala; along with her cousin brothers, (extremely tall and muscular cousin brothers, must I add), Aayush, Bijoy and Sanjib. The suffocating part is, none are smiling.

And I repeat, none. It is as if they are soldiers interrogating a criminal. Me. I am afraid.

Oh, her cousin sister Ekta is also present but at least she is engrossed in her phone. I perhaps shouldn't mention that I am aware she has been sneakily clicking pictures of me and most probably sending it to her friends or posting them on social media. I fear if I do something that might offend the women of this family, my head will be served today as the main dish, by these men.

"So." I turn my full attention to one of the cousin brothers, whose name is Bijoy, when he speaks up in his gruff voice. From a general point-of-view, he has the potential of becoming a model, judging from his strikingly charming looks, physique, and height. However that doesn't change the fact I feel intimidated and frightened, even by looking into his dark eyes. "You are Isha's boyfriend."

"Yes, that would be me," I answer, my voice as polite as it possibly can be, "Prince Calix Mercuro Sonata Liorsa Tiore, the first prince—"

I zip my mouth shut when Bijoy puts up a palm, motioning me to stop speaking. "I did not ask for a royal greeting, did I?"

My lips curl up into an awkward, forced smile, as the air thickens. "I was merely introducing myself."

His piercing glare stares right into my soul. Not only his glare, but of all the men I have found myself surrounded with. Perhaps it is my fault, and they might think I was trying to flaunt the fact I am a prince. But that was never the intention and a habit I had picked up during my etiquette classes. I should probably apologize. As I open my mouth with the notion of giving a genuine apology, the words get stuck in my throat when, like a deer caught in the headlights, the men (even Isha's cousin sister), burst out into fits of laughter. Intense laughter that can bring tears to one's eyes.

With a confused frown and fiddly smile, I watch them laughing, as the phrase goes, their asses off. Sensing my state of perplexity, Ekta (the cousin sister) is kind enough to explain what in the world is going on here.

"The men in our family are jokers. Literal jokers who will snatch comedians' jobs, if they were given the opportunity. And relax. They are just messing around with you, brother-in-law."

"Ah, I see." Wait. It takes me time to register the title by which Ekta nonchalantly addressed me.

Brother-in-law. And for some odd reason, I feel my entire body fill up with cascading heat at the prospect of being seen as the future husband of Isha, by her family. If I hadn't known better, I wouldn't have assumed some of them have already probably started daydreaming about our future children. I wonder how our future children will look, for, I am definitely handsome and Isha is gorgeous—okay, I must stop. My mind has been drifting away. Stay focused, Calix.

It is a fake relationship, temporary, nonetheless.

"Stop messing around with my son-in-law," Mr Sen playfully glares at the other laughing men, but chuckles along, holding his round belly. Son-in-law. That is what I am in Isha's father's eyes.

Brother-in-law. Son-in-law. I never thought these words could make me feel so mellow. As a prince, being betrothed at some point in my life, to possibly a wealthy or noble lady through arrange-marriage, is something I have always known. My life has forever been painted with lies regarding my biological mother, and a characterless father. Hence, marriage, relationship, love, family, these concepts were foreign to me and perhaps still are in the present. But here, in the midst of Isha's family, as I see people who harbour absolutely no relation to me and are meeting with me for the first time; being so warmly welcoming as if I have already become a part of their family, I can't help but feel disappointed. Disappointed at the fact that this fake relationship will get over next year, and I will once again return to my grey, dull, lonely world, filled with politics, luxuries, and aristocrats. Isha is fortunate and I envy her for having known what familial love is.

Alas, at the end of the day, everything is a beautiful falsehood and we are nothing but tellers of lies.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Isha and I, surprisingly were natural actors. Too natural that it almost felt eerily odd and surely, she must have felt so too. I bonded well with the women, similar to the men of this family. Once I was even kidnapped by her sisters Aria and Anvi and had to go through an interrogation session regarding if I was just toying with their sibling's feelings or everything was genuine. The guilt was real when I managed to pretend as if I were truly in love with Isha. Did I mention I received an adorable love confession from the little girl who kept shying her gaze away from me? Meanwhile her baby brother peed on me when I was trying to cradle him in my arm. Well, little baby is protective of his big sister, I must admit. Acting as a tour guide with Isha, for her family, was my favourite part of the day. Does not matter that I had to put on a heavy disguise with a fake moustache and all that.

And I clearly did not blush when Isha nonchalantly mentioned I looked adorable with the little moustache.

The bottom line is, today was entertaining. Jolly. Bright. The words I never once thought I had the ability to even think of.

Isha's entire family is spending the night here at her two-bedroom apartment (we had to buy a lot of floor mattresses). I was reluctant to leave but my reluctance turned into happiness when they asked me to stay as well. The elder women occupied the room which belonged to Isha's previous roommate and we men settled in the living room. Isha's room was nevertheless, preoccupied by Isha, Aria, Anvi, Ekta and the seven-year-old girl, who seemed to be clinging onto me the entire day, batting her eyelashes once in a while.

I was strictly prohibited from sleeping alone with Isha by the elders of the family, with suggestive remarks. Whatever that may mean, I kept to myself the fact that we have both slept together on the same bed, already.

"Can't sleep?"

Isha's gentle voice brings me out of my star gazing stature as I glance back to find her approaching me, and leaning against the railing of the balcony. Her black hair is laid down in a messy yet alluring way, as she smiles serenely at me.

"Well, yeah." I hesitantly admit but do not mention the reason why. I am sure she wouldn't like to hear how I was practically crushed between two of her snoring uncles.

"You got sandwiched between them, didn't you?" Isha chuckles, seemingly understanding the reason, as I nod my head timidly.

"I am sorry if you felt...er...uncomfortable today. I didn't know about their arrival, and I know they can be too loud at times—"

"Isha. Isha. Isha." I soothingly say, gently grabbing both of her hands. "What are you saying? I had a wonderful time today. Probably one of the best days I have had in my twenty-seven years of life."

"Come on, that can't be true."

"Of course it is." I gaze into her dark eyes, with a smile. "Familial love. I felt it today."

"Well then," she grins, interlocking our fingers together, "I am glad."

As the warmth of our intertwined fingers surges through me, our gazes locked onto one another with unspeakable silence and foreign emotions, from my peripheral vision, I notice white freckles. One. Two. Three. And then numerous freckles which slowly grow bigger by each time. I never expected the first snowfall of the season to appear so, beautiful and not, bitterly cold for once.

For some reason, a ridiculous myth I had read somewhere, comes into my mind.

If you are out in the first snowfall of the season with someone you like, true love will blossom between you. The myth is illogical, absolutely imaginary, and not at all something I could ever acknowledge. But as I notice how gorgeous Isha looks while watching the snowfall, I can't stop my heart from fluttering, and stomach from dropping to my feet. Or to think that the myth isn't too ridiculous as I thought it was.

And before I realise what I am doing, I gently pull Isha towards me, and close the distance between us. I do not move and so she too. Our lips remains pressed against one another, with stillness writhing inside us. When I realize I shouldn't have done that, I feel Isha kissing back. Slowly. Steadily. Passionately.

Something clicks my conflicting emotions, and I pull the woman as close as possible, as our lips mould into one. The heat increases with Isha's arms wrapped around my neck, and mine caressing her cheeks, our lips diving and drowning into the sweet taste of one another. Soon I find myself pinning her to the wall of the balcony, while my fingers teasingly trace her cheeks, jaw, and rests ultimately on her collarbone. God, I want to sink my teeth and paint that collarbone with my marks. But I do not and focus on her luscious lips and the sinful, saccharine symphony she produces. Especially, when my tongue explores her mouth like a thirsty traveller exploring the unknown. No rational thoughts, no second thoughts, no feelings of guilt. Tonight, it is just us, while we savour the kiss that speaks a thousand words. Probably infinity that we still have not deciphered.

If I could, I would have kissed Isha all day. All night long.

As I said, this was one of the best days of my life. Truly. Without doubt.