Not My Little Sister

Chapter 27 Wedding day

The traditional nadaswaram music played as the radiant bride, adorned in resplendent silk saree, made her way to the kalyanamandapam. There, the groom awaited her with a nervous yet joyful smile, his attire exuding simplicity and purity—a white cotton shirt complemented by a white Mundu adorned with a golden border. The glint of his gold chain and rings added a touch of regality to his ensemble, signifying the auspiciousness of the occasion.

Amidst the sweet fragrance of jasmine flower garlands and the wafting aroma of incense, the pandit commenced the sacred rites, guiding the couple through the timeless rituals. The couple circled the holy fire, symbolizing their eternal bond.

Vinaya felt a swirl of emotions coursing through her. Despite the air-conditioned hall, the radiant glow of the halogen lights and the warmth from the sacred flames enveloped her, making her feel dizzy.

Vinaya's gaze wandered, and she caught sight of a familiar silhouette amidst the gathered crowd. Her heart fluttered at the unexpected presence of the man she had once loved. Questions crowded her mind—who had extended the invitation? Why was Nithin here, especially when her brother and he were yet to reconcile their differences?

Her eyes stung with unshed tears as they locked in a poignant gaze. She felt transported to their past—a dimly lit apartment, his arms enveloping her, his breath mingling with hers.

"Wait for me. You are mine. We belong together," his words echoed in her mind. Promises made. Promises unfulfilled.

With a deep breath, she attempted to steady her trembling resolve. The memories flooded her mind; the love they once shared, the dreams they had woven together. But amidst the tender recollections was the painful truth—he had vanished from her life, consumed by his ambitions. He had left her to navigate the depths of her despair alone while he built his empire.

She recalled the countless nights spent in solitude, tears staining her pillow, her heartache echoing in the silence. In the aftermath of their breakup, she had reached out to him, only to be met with deafening silence.

Despite her persistent hope and unwavering loyalty, he had remained absent.

"Wait for me."

Even as years had passed, she found herself unable to shake the grip of his memory. The promise of his return, whispered in moments of vulnerability, had kept her tethered to a love that seemed both eternal and elusive.

As their gazes held, she refused to be the first to look away. For her, time had ceased to exist, and the ache of longing persisted, as fresh and raw as it had ever been.

His name, once a familiar echo of whispered promises and stolen moments, now adorned the most coveted lists—the most eligible bachelors, the wealthiest entrepreneurs under forty. Each headline and photograph served as a stark reminder of the man she had loved, the man who had once held her heart in his hands.

The images captured in the tabloids told a story of his transformation. Gone were the casual denims and tousled locks, replaced by impeccably tailored suits and a clean-shaven visage.

Their affair had been a tornado —as quickly as it had begun, it had ended, leaving her broken in it's wake. Four long years had passed since then, yet the ache in her heart remained as raw as ever.

She felt someone's arms around her as she collapsed.

As Vinaya regained consciousness, she found herself surrounded by concerned faces and the distant echoes of ceremonial chants.

Her aunt's frantic attempts to fan her back to consciousness added to Vinaya's frustration. 'Idiots,' she thought bitterly, wishing they would understand the proper protocol for reviving a fainting spell. 'They should be laying me flat, not sitting me up and crowding me.'