The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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The ritual of Kanyadan was supposed to be a moment of tears and deep emotion for the bride. But as I sat through it, I found myself numb, unable to summon the tears that tradition demanded. My family had long since drained me of tears, leaving me dry and hollow. Every ritual, every blessing, felt like a mockery of my shattered dreams and lost hopes.
I sat silently in the car, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks. Thoughts raced through my mind, a chaotic whirlwind of regret, anger, and sorrow. How had my life come to this? Just a few days ago, I was reluctantly preparing to marry Raghav, and now I was married to a man I knew nothing about, in a house that was falling apart, surrounded by people who saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their games.
My family's betrayal stung the most. How could they abandon me so easily? I was their daughter, not a commodity to be traded off for their convenience. The realization left a bitter taste in my mouth, a sense of deep disillusionment that weighed heavily on my heart.
As we approached the Rajvansh mansion, its grandeur loomed over me, an imposing symbol of wealth and power. The mansion was vast and beautiful, exuding an air of regal elegance. Tall pillars adorned with intricate carvings, lush gardens meticulously maintained, and grand windows reflecting the moonlight all spoke of a legacy that went beyond mere money. Yet, to me, it felt like a gilded cage, a prison dressed in opulence.
I expected Arjun to say something, to offer some form of comfort or at least acknowledgment. But he remained silent, his face a mask of indifference.
"Show her to her room," he instructed a servant curtly, not even sparing me a glance.
The servant led me through the mansion, pointing out various features and rooms as we went. I barely listened, my mind too preoccupied with my own thoughts. Finally, we reached my room, and the servant opened the door, revealing a space that was nothing short of magnificent. The room was vast, with high ceilings and walls adorned with beautiful artwork. A large canopy bed sat in the center, draped in luxurious fabrics, and the furniture was all finely crafted, exuding elegance and refinement.
"Ma'am this your room," the servant said politely before leaving me to my solitude.
Despite the beauty around me, I felt no joy. This room, for all its splendor, was just another reminder of how far I had fallen. I sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of my misery pressing down on me. How could everything have gone so wrong? My life was supposed to be different. I was supposed to chase my dreams, not be trapped in a nightmare.
For the next two days, I locked myself in that room. I refused to eat, the mere thought of food turning my stomach. I couldn't bear to face the world outside, to confront the reality that had become my life. My thoughts were a constant loop of despair, questioning my existence and the choices that had led me here.
Every knock on the door was ignored, my resolve to stay isolated unyielding. But then, on the third day, something different happened. There was a soft knock, followed by a small, sweet voice. "Mumma?" the voice called out, filled with innocence and hope.
For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. But then, the voice called out again, and something inside me stirred. I got up, my movements slow and hesitant, and walked to the door. But the weakness of not eating for days surged into me and I accidently dragged the bedside vase along with me. The *thud* voice made me halt for a moment but then I lost my balance and some pieces made their way through my skin painting the floor with red. But I gathered some strength to open the causing the pool of blood spread across the room.
As I opened it, I was met by a little girl with wide, curious eyes and a bright smile. "Mumma!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.
I was taken aback, my heart racing. Who was this child? And why was she calling me 'Mumma'? I looked around, confused and scared, but no one else was there. Just this little girl, holding onto me like I was her lifeline.
In that moment, my heart softened, and I felt a rush of emotions that I couldn't quite understand. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged her back, overwhelmed by a mix of confusion and unexpected affection. But just as quickly, the world around me started to spin, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, the weight of everything finally pulling me under.
As darkness claimed me, I heard the little girl's voice again, faint but filled with concern. "Mumma, are you okay?"
The last thing I saw before everything went black was her worried face, and then there was nothing.
