The Revenge Game

1-Prince charming

My prince charming rushes towards me, his eyes filled with adoration as he reaches out to take my hand in his. His arms enveloping me as he effortlessly lifts me off the ground, twirling us both in a whirlwind of joy. The world spins around us, but it is not the dizziness that overwhelms me; it is the overwhelming love and warmth that radiates from him. Gently, he places my feet back on the ground, his touch tender as he pulls me closer, sandwiching me between his strong presence and the wall. With a gentle touch, he lifts my chin, guiding my gaze to meet his. His hand lingers on my chin, a silent promise of affection. Slowly, he leans in, our lips mere centimeters away from igniting their own passionate dance. But alas, a sweet angelic voice shatters the dreamlike bubble we were in. "Heyyyy, Maanvi dii. Wake uppp. Come on, gurl, get out of bed before Mom enters your room and drags you down the hall by your ear." "Are you listening"The sweetness in her voice feels like a cruel trick, tearing me away from my beloved, my prince charming. As I slowly opened my eyes, the room was filled with the soft glow of the morning sun peeking through the curtains. I stretched my arms above my head, feeling the warmth of the new day wash over me. Just as I was about to get out of bed and start my day, a loud thud echoed through the room as the door slammed against the wall.Instantly, a sharp, searing pain shot through my left ear, causing me to cry out in agony. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I whimpered in pain. "You're still sleeping? Do you have any idea what time it is? It's 1 pm! Get out of bed this instant, or I'll drag you out by your ear," scolded my mother, giving my ear a slight twist. "I already told you that we have guests coming today, and you were supposed to dress nicely to meet them. It's about your marriage proposal, Maanvi. How can I explain to them that my daughter, soon to be your daughter-in-law, is so lazy she sleeps until 1 pm? What will they think of our family? What will they think of how I raised you?" My mother's words jolted me awake, and before she could continue her tirade, I got up from bed and hugged her, silencing her complaints."Mom, tell them that this lazy sloth is the only choice if they don't accept me. If they don't want me, they can just leave. It's as simple as that," I said while hugging my mom tightly. The thought of leaving her and my sister behind makes me so sad. I never wanted to get married because it would mean being separated from my mom and sister. They have been my rocks since our father passed away when I was just 3 years old. My sister was only 5 months old at the time. My mom, along with my aunts and grandmother, have always been there for us, giving us love and support.

"Come on, sweetheart, you need to get married," my mother urged gently. "You've already turned down 21 suitors. If you turn these ones away too, people will start talking. You know how society is—they love to judge. So please, go get ready. Be downstairs in 30 minutes," she said before leaving the room, leaving me to face my sister.

My sister looked at me with concern in her eyes. "I know this is hard for you," she said softly. "But maybe this time will be different. Maybe you'll meet someone who understands you and fits into our family just like you've always wanted."

I sighed, feeling the weight of their expectations and the pressure from society. I never wanted to be apart from my family. They are my world, and I can’t imagine life without them. But I also know that my mother is right—people are starting to talk, and the pressure is mounting.

"Okay, I'll try," I finally agreed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "But they need to understand that I come as a package deal with my family. If they can't accept that, then they're not the right ones for me."
"And before I forget," I exclaimed while placing my hands on my hips and giving her a stern look. "What's with the expression you're giving me, Maanvi di?" she innocently questioned, as if she hadn't done anything wrong. "I specifically told you yesterday to wake me up early, but instead, you woke me up at 1 pm and got me scolded." I scolded her in a mock strict tone, which she immediately recognized but chose not to comment on. "Look at the time," she pointed to the clock above my bed. I turned to glance at it and realized that it was only 10 am. It was typical of my Indian mother to always tell us the wrong time just to make us panic. I let out a sigh and decided to take a shower.
As I entered the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I felt nervous. I've never felt this way before meeting another guy, but this time there's a dark, looming aura in the shadows that I can feel. But before this notion could take me, I disregarded it, believing that it was the result of viewing a horror movie last night and will ultimately pass away. However, the feeling lingered.
I got dressed in a pink anarkali suit, its fabric flowing gracefully around me with intricate silver gota work that sparkled under the light. The delicate embroidery caught my eye, adding an elegant touch to the outfit. To complement the suit, I chose a pair of silver jhumkas that dangled from my ears, their tiny bells softly chiming with my every movement. I also wore an anklet, its gentle jingle reminding me of the traditions and joys of our culture.

My wavy, thick brown hair cascaded down to my waist, left open to bounce perfectly off my shoulders with each step I took. I loved how my hair framed my face, giving me a natural, effortless look. For makeup, I kept it simple—just a touch of mascara to highlight my eyes and a pinkish nude lipstick that added a subtle, elegant glow to my lips. I wanted to look natural and true to myself, not overly done.

After a final glance in the mirror, I couldn't help but smile, feeling satisfied with my appearance. The anarkali suit fit perfectly, the silver gota work adding just the right amount of sparkle. My jhumkas and anklet gave a traditional touch, and my hair looked as if it had a life of its own, full of bounce and shine.

With a deep breath, I decided it was time to face the world outside my room. I hoped that whoever saw me today would appreciate not just my appearance but also the person I was inside. As I exited the room, the soft jingling of my anklet echoed my steps.

In the hallway, I met my sister, who immediately complimented me. "You look stunning!" she said with a broad smile. Feeling a bit more confident, we both headed downstairs to the kitchen together.

There, I found my mother, busy preparing sweets for our guests. When she looked up and saw me, a warm, pleasant smile spread across her face. She set down her work and came over to me, her eyes shining with pride.

"You look beautiful," she said softly, taking some kajal from her eye and applying it behind my ear for good luck. She then picked up a small pink bindi and carefully placed it in the center of my forehead. "Now your look is complete. You are looking gorgeous, darling. I'm sure the guy will faint just by catching a glimpse of you."

My sister and I burst into laughter at her comment, the nervous tension easing just a bit. It was a comforting moment, filled with the love and support of my family.

However, our laughter was cut short by the sudden ring of the doorbell. The sound echoed through the house, bringing an abrupt end to our moment of joy. The reality of the situation set in once more as we exchanged anxious glances. My mother gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before asking me to open the door.

"It's showtime," my sister whispered with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. I took a deep breath, steadying myself for what lay ahead, knowing that no matter what happened, my family would always be there for me.
I hurried towards the door, my anklets jingling merrily with each step, creating a joyful symphony in the hallway. Despite my mother's reminder not to run, I couldn't contain my excitement. However, I halted a few steps away, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation.

As I opened the door, my eyes widened in surprise at the sight of an older couple standing before me, accompanied by a very handsome young man. I couldn't help but be captivated by his charm, my gaze lingering on him until my sister lightly smacked my head and whispered, "Already staring at your groom, Maanvi dii. Bad manners! At least let them enter the house. Then you can ogle him all you want."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I stepped aside to allow the guests to enter. With a shy smile, I greeted them and led them into the living room. My mother emerged from the kitchen, her face lighting up with recognition as she embraced the older lady like an old friend.

"Maanvi, come here, meet Veenita Malhotra, my old college friend, and her husband, Agni Malhotra," my mother introduced, her voice filled with warmth and familiarity. I greeted them warmly, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension about what the evening might hold.

Little did I know that this encounter would mark the beginning of a new chapter in my life that i might not like.