Love Struck At The Wedding

4. AVNI

It’s been more than an hour since we arrived at the venue, and exhaustion is already creeping up on me. My thoughts keep drifting back home, the familiar comfort of my room beckoning me, but I try to shake them off.

The memories of that room, however, are still vivid in my mind. I can't seem to let them go, no matter how much I try to focus on what's happening around me.

Of all the possible things that could go wrong today, getting seated in the car with him was the last thing I expected. Nakul jiju, in his usual enthusiastic manner, introduced Shaurya to me with so much excitement—like the guy was some celebrity he’d been hyping up for days.

Apparently, he’s the same Punjabi guy jiju had been gushing about during his pre-wedding rituals. “Fun-loving, soft-spoken, and a good-hearted man,” he said. But there was something off.

Every time jiju or Kshitij brought up Shaurya’s work, he quickly changed the subject, diverting the conversation elsewhere. Why was he so secretive about what he did?

“Hey! Avni, now that Kaashi is married, when are you planning to tie the knot?” One of my distant aunts suddenly threw the question at me like it was the most casual thing. Are they for real? Kaashi hasn’t even been married for a week, and already they’re asking me about my turn. Oh god, who invited these people?

Although I’m comfortable in most social settings, this topic—marriage, relationships—always makes me uneasy. There’s a whirlwind of “what ifs” that crowd my thoughts whenever the subject comes up. Sure, I’ve had my share of confessions and proposals, but I always hesitated, stuck on those nagging doubts. What if it doesn’t work out?

I know it’s normal for couples to argue, and I’ve seen relationships that look perfect from the outside but are far from behind closed doors. The idea of marriage terrifies me.

It’s a long-term commitment, a leap of faith into the unknown. What if something goes wrong? What if the worst happens? I can’t seem to shake these thoughts.

Watching other people’s relationships fall apart can be strangely satisfying when you’re a spectator, but would I feel the same if it were happening to me? Would I be able to laugh it off like I do now, or would I be shattered by my own misery?

What an epic digression. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize the aunties had moved on to gossiping about something else, and here I was, nodding along mindlessly. Thank god for papa’s timing—his call gave me the perfect excuse to escape.

“Yes, papa?” I asked, walking over to him. He smiled warmly, then said, 
“Go click some pictures with your sister. She’s been looking for you.”

“Don’t worry, papa, I’m on it.” I excused myself from the endless chatter and headed toward the stage.

To my surprise, I spotted Shaurya talking to Kshitij near the stage. What the hell? Just a few hours ago, Kshitij said he didn’t like Shaurya at all. And now here he was, laughing and joking with him like they were old friends. Betrayer. I made a mental note to confront Kshitij later about this unexpected change of heart.

But as I turned my attention to Kaashi, my heart warmed. She looked radiant, content. I still remember the excitement in her voice when she first told me about meeting Nakul. They’re the kind of couple I admire—along with my parents.

Deep down, I yearn for that kind of connection, but my fears about relationships can’t be ignored. Still, seeing Kaashi happy brings me peace, even if just for a moment.

After a quick photo session with Kaashi, Nakul, and later Kshitij and Mahira, I made my way down the stage. As I descended, I found Shaurya waiting at the bottom, his hand extended toward me.

His eyes seemed genuine, not mischievous like before. Glancing around, I noticed some of the relatives watching us, so I reluctantly placed my hand in his.

What happened next, though, was nothing short of shocking. With my hand still in his grasp, Shaurya led me to a secluded part of the venue, away from prying eyes. Before I could react, he pinned me against the wall, his hands bracketing either side of my face.

“I need your help,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading.

Instinctively, I shoved him away with whatever strength I had left. The nerve of this guy!

“What the hell is your problem? Who gave you the right to invade my personal space like that? And who the hell asks for help like this?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but… you owe me,” he replied, his demeanor suddenly much more subdued.

“Excuse me? I don’t owe you anything. I can’t help you. Now, let me go.”

“At least hear me out,” he insisted, his face filled with concern.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time or interest in whatever you have to say.”

I tried to walk away, but before I could, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back toward him. The sudden closeness made my skin tingle. His breath fanned against my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. My breaths grew heavier as I tried to make sense of the situation. Was I overreacting, or was he crossing the line?

He tightened his grip, making me wince in pain. Our eyes locked for a moment, and in that instant, I saw something different—an apology, maybe even desperation.

And then I felt it—a sharp, warm sensation. Looking down, I gasped. Blood trickled from my wrist, where some of my bangles had shattered under the pressure of his grip. Without another word, I yanked my hand free and rushed toward the washroom, cursing under my breath.

“Jerk,” I muttered, my heart still racing.

The venue’s washroom was oddly secluded, and I cursed whoever designed the layout as I made my way there. Once inside, I quickly washed my hands, relieved to see that the bleeding had stopped. I needed to find some ointment, but for now, the cold water would have to do.

As I stepped out of the washroom, a soft breeze brushed against my skin, making me shiver. The night air was crisp, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over everything. It was strangely beautiful, almost peaceful.

“Avni.”

I spun around, startled to find Shaurya standing there again. Is he stalking me?

“Are you a stalker or something?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

“Look, Avni, you’ve got the wrong idea about me. Will you just hear me out? Please?”

I stared at him, unsure of what to do. He seemed genuine now, not the arrogant guy I’d seen earlier. Reluctantly, I sighed.

“Fine. But if this is some kind of joke, I’m done.”

He took a deep breath and stepped closer, resting his hands on my shoulders. His touch was surprisingly gentle this time.

“Be my date for tonight,” he said, his voice soft but serious.

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