"I am not your puppet I am not going to continue this relationship as if nothing happened I will never consider her as my wife"
Is this all a joke to you this marriage and stuff first you forced me to get married and when the bride ran away you tied...
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The weight of every dream and hope crushed me as I circled the holy fire, tears tracing a path down my cheeks as he adorned me with the sacred thread and vermilion. With each ritual, it felt like the death knell of my aspirations.
This wasn't my wedding, Nor it was supposed to be an hour ago. I was forced to marry the man that wasn't supposed to be my husband at the first place. The heena in his hand wasn't of my name. I was adorned in this red lehnga which wasn't mine the jewelries was not for me. I was not supposed to be the bride but here I was taking rounds of holly fire around a person who doesn't even know let alone the thought of love.
No longer Vivek Malhotra's burdened daughter, I was now Avinash Pratap Singh's queen, the unexpected bride he never anticipated marrying – his fiancé's sister.
This place was never meant for me; it belonged to my sister. I suffocated under the weight of responsibilities thrust upon me overnight. If only she hadn't left a letter, if only she had faced her suitor in person, perhaps I wouldn't be entangled in this mess.
What about my dreams? What if he despises me? Surely, I pale in comparison to my sister – not as beautiful, not as slender, not as tall. I'm not the woman he envisioned marrying; I'm not what he deserves. What if he refuses to accept me as his wife?
My thoughts spiraled, each worry birthing a fresh tear. Lost in my turmoil, I found myself seated beside him in the car, bound for the palace of Pratapgarh – my new prison.
"Congratulations, Avni," I said, oblivious to the storm raging within me.
_______________________________
The evening before the wedding:
The baraat had already arrived at the mansion, with the groom and his family downstairs.
It was a private wedding, with only a select few relatives from both sides of the family invited. The reason? The Rajmata, the groom's mother, Rudrani Devi, strongly believed in warding off the evil eye.
That's why my father, despite being one of the biggest businessmen around, didn't invite anyone else - not because he didn't want to, but because of the relentless presence of the press and paparazzi.
As I prepared the aarti thal for the varmala ceremony as it was a ritual that only sister's do, a bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Sister," I murmured to myself. Technically, I was her sister, but she never saw me as one. To her, I was nothing more than a servant, or perhaps even less than that. She harbored resentment toward me her entire life.
Yet, I didn't mind her harsh treatment. I owed this family so much, and enduring everything thrown my way was a small price to pay.
I couldn't take it anymore. This is my final year of college, and once I graduate, I'll be free from all this. I'll work hard, earn my own living, and pay back every penny, freeing myself from this burden.
