The Keeper of My Heart

Chapter 2

In the quiet sanctity of the night, as the stars bore witness to the earth's slumbering beauty, Shubman Gill stood amidst the wedding's finery, his mind a whirlwind of tasks and timings. The sudden trill of his phone sliced through his concentration, and he answered with the practiced ease of a man who had spent the day in constant communication, "Shubman Gill speaking."

The voice on the other end was fraught with urgency, "Bring your parents and sister and come to my room," commanded Rohit, his tone brooking no argument. Shubman's brow furrowed in concern, and with a swift affirmation, he gathered his family—Keart, Lakwinder, and Shahneel—and they made their way to Rohit's room.

Upon entering, a tableau of distress greeted them. Aditi, the bride, her eyes a wellspring of tears, was being consoled by Ritika. Shubman's heart clenched at the sight, "Bhai, what happened? Is everything okay?" he inquired, his voice a mix of worry and confusion.

Rohit, with a somber expression, handed over a letter that seemed to carry the weight of the world. Shubman's eyes scanned the contents, and a shockwave of disbelief coursed through him. "What is this, bhai?" he stammered, seeking some semblance of sense in the chaos.

"That Karthik has left India and has gone away," Rohit revealed, his voice a low rumble of contained emotions. "Shub, you need to do me a favor."

"What is it, bhai?" Shubman asked, the gravity of the situation anchoring him to the spot.

Rohit drew a deep breath, as if to brace himself against the storm of his own making, "Marry my sister." The words hung in the air, a decree that seemed as surreal as the night itself. Shubman and Aditi echoed in unison, "What?"

"Marry her, Shub. I cannot bear the whispers of the crowd. I trust you, and I know you can keep her happy," Rohit implored, his gaze imploring.

Purnima and Gurunath, silent sentinels of tradition, nodded their agreement, their faces etched with the resolve that comes from desperate decisions. Shubman's mind raced, "Bhai, I am dating Sara," he protested, the reality of his own heart spilling into the room.

"Shahneel, can you call Sara?" Rohit's request cut through the tension, and within moments, Sara stood before them, her presence a balm to the unfolding drama.

Rohit recounted the tale, his words painting a picture of a future altered by the whims of fate. Sara's eyes, pools of unreadable emotion, met Shubman's, and with a voice trembling with unspoken sacrifice, she conceded, "I-its o-okay b-bhai. I-i h-had not told papa anyway. So no problem. Shubman, go get ready. It's your wedding."

A soft exchange passed between Shubman and Sara, a whisper of a conversation meant for their ears alone, "Why are you doing this, Sara?" he asked, his voice a fragile thread of hope.

"Because Rohit bhai said," she replied, her words a testament to the complexities of love and loyalty.

Lakwinder ushered Shubman away, and as he prepared for the ceremony, a sense of automation took over. The crowd had been swayed by Rohit's conviction, and Shubman found himself performing the rituals with a mechanical precision.Then Aditi came with her stunning red lehenga, signifying prosperity and celebration. It was heavily embroidered with gold thread, featuring intricate patterns that were traditional motifs symbolic of marital bliss. Matching the lehenga, the blouse was also red with gold embroidery. It was designed to complement the skirt, with short sleeves and a cut that enhanced the elegance of the bridal look. Draped over her head was a red dupatta with detailed borders, which completed the bridal attire. It was not just a stylish element but also held cultural significance, representing modesty and respect. 

Worn on both arms, these were a mix of gold and red bangles, which were traditional for brides. Heavy necklaces that sat gracefully on the neck, included a choker and a longer necklace, both encrusted with precious stones to match the bridal attire. Large, statement earrings that coordinated with the necklaces, in gold with red accents.

Side by side, they completed the rituals, the mangalsutra a symbol of their unexpected union, the sindhoor a crimson seal of their shared destiny. The fire bore witness to their vows, and as they circled it, Shubman's eyes found Sara's, her tears a silent ode to the love they shared.

With the blessings of their elders upon them, they embarked on the journey to the Gill mansion, a journey that began with confusion and ended with the hope of understanding. The post-wedding aarti welcomed them, and as Shubman led Aditi to their room, he was struck by the surreal nature of the day.

The room, a sanctuary of memories, held echoes of laughter and dreams. Pictures of him and Sara adorned the walls, a silent chronicle of a love now paused. Sachin's poster, a beacon of inspiration, looked on as Shubman offered Aditi the simple comforts of their new beginning, "You can use the bathroom and the closet to change."

In the stillness of the room, where the shadows of the night danced with the faint moonlight, Aditi watched as Shubman, with a somber resolve, began to dismantle the vestiges of his past. One by one, he removed the photographs that chronicled his journey with Sara, each image a memory, a moment frozen in time. With a heavy heart, he placed them into a garbage bag, the sound of the plastic rustling against the silence of the room. The finality of the act was not lost on Aditi, who observed from a distance, her heart aching with a complex blend of emotions.

Shubman's silhouette against the balcony was that of a man carrying the weight of the world. Ishan's persistent calls were nothing but a distant echo to him, as he stood there, lost in a sea of thoughts, grappling with the reality that had unfolded so unexpectedly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Shubman turned back into the room, his voice barely above a whisper, "You can sleep on the bed, I will sleep on the couch." It was an offer of courtesy, an attempt to provide some comfort in the midst of chaos. Aditi, her voice laced with a quiet strength, responded, "It's okay, you can sleep on the bed too. I have no problem."

And so, they lay there, separated by the expanse of the bed, each on their own side, each lost in their own world of thoughts. Shubman faced the balcony, where the night whispered secrets to those willing to listen, while Aditi turned away, her tears a silent river marking the passage of her inner turmoil.

The night wore on, the hours passing with the slow cadence of a world in slumber, but for Aditi and Shubman, sleep was a distant dream, kept at bay by the reality of their situation. As the first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, it found two souls, brought together by circumstance, each confronting the dawn of a new day and all the uncertainty it carried with it.