Echoes Of Destiny | Multicouple ✓

7. ECHOES OF HOSTILITY AND HOPE

Avya

As I smoothed down the fabric of my kurti sleeves, a sense of apprehension lingered in the air like an unwelcome guest. The grandeur of the Singhania mansion loomed around me, its opulent halls echoing with the weight of centuries-old traditions and expectations.

Despite my attempts to resist, last night had marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life. As I made my way towards the dining hall, each step felt heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of uncertainty and resignation.

I woke up today with a renewed energy, I have tried to run away from this marriage but if this is how it's supposed to then I'll be ready for the challenge.

After last night, I haven't seen Hridaan, in fact I haven't seen anyone.

I do not know much about marriage but this is definitely not how newly brides are treated.

I spent my first night after wedding in a dusty basements, coughing and sneezing, all alone with my demons.
Oh what a life.
But you don't deserve a happy marriage, my conscious mocked.
Happy marriage?!, was it even called marriage. For me it definitely looked like Hridaan Singhania's elaborate plans to revenge.
And deep down I knew I deserve it, that's why I didn't fight back much, did I?

"Kriti, Mrs. Upadhyay has been asking me about this year's Charity Gala, please look into it," Tara Singhania's commanding voice echoed through the room.

"Yes, mummy ji," Kriti's voice responded dutifully.

As I entered the dining hall, a palpable tension hung in the air, mingling with the fragrance of exotic dishes laid out before us. The conversation ceased abruptly, all eyes turning towards me as if I were an unexpected intruder in their midst.

Surveying the room, I recognized a few familiar faces amidst the unfamiliar ones.

Tara Singhania, the matriarch of the household, exuded an aura of regal authority from her seat at the head of the table, Beside her sat Abhinav Singhania, her son, my father in law, stoic façade betraying little of the inner turmoil that undoubtedly brewed beneath the surface.

Notably, Hridaan was absent, thank the stars.

Seated across from Tara Singhania was another woman, her poise and elegance a stark contrast to the formidable presence of the hostess. Kriti Singhania, Hridhaan's stepmother, and her daughter Myra occupied seats of their own, their presence adding another layer of complexity to the dynamic of the room.

I briefly remembered my mother telling me about the Singhania family before marriage.

As memories of my wedding day flickered through my mind, I couldn't help but wonder about Kriti's absence from the ceremony. Was it merely disappointment with the proceedings, or was there a deeper, reason behind her conspicuous absence? The unanswered questions lingered in the air, hanging like a veil of uncertainty over the lavish tableau before me.

There was definitely some tension between Kriti and Tara Singhania, I can smell it from miles away.

Grandma Singhania frowned at my arrival, as if she just remembered that she now has a elder grand daughter in law.

Kriti stared at me from head to toe, her scrutinizing gaze swept over me, assessing every detail of my appearance with a pointed intensity.

So, I returned the gestured.

After all, I had learned long ago that in this world of privilege and pretense, appearances could be deceiving.

I wasn't akin to the fact whether to wear a saree, choosing to forgo the traditional attire of a saree, a garment I had neither the skill nor the inclination to wear, I opted instead for the simplicity of a kurti. It was a choice born more out of necessity than preference, if it were up to me I'll wear loose top and pajamas, but grandma Singhania would have heart attack, if that's how she's looking at my kurti.