His heart was a fortress, haunted by the warmth he pushed away, scarred by the silence he forced between them, all because he believed she deserved more than the broken pieces he could offer.
And, her heart was a battlefield, bruised by all the word...
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DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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The Rajputs had organized a puja for the betterment of their younger son's married life, one day before the wedding.
The Maliks were also present with the future bride. Aman and Anjali had known each other since childhood. When their friendship turned into love, they couldn't tell, but they were glad that it happened, and their elders had also blessed their union. Thinking about them, Khushi couldn't help but exhale a heavy sigh, wishing things would have turned out similarly for her too.
Her Amma's voice broke her distraction, "Titliya, ja sab ko bulake la. The puja is about to start and call Arnav too. Tell him I asked him to come downstairs and sit in the puja." knowing very well that Arnav wouldn't reject his Roma chachi.
Suvadra Malik snapped in response to the comment, "Why invite someone to a puja who doesn't believe in God? Main nahi chahti ke us nastik ke aulad ke bajayse yeh puja barbad ho jaye. I only want good things to come to my Anjali Bitiya's married life."
Khushi was about to protest when her amma caught her hand and quietened her with a shake of her head. When Khushi looked at Suvadra the next moment, she realized everybody was already there. The dark look that fell across Arnav's handsome features made her realize that his Nani's rebuke hadn't escaped him.
Arnav never cared much about religion, Seeing his mother on her knees, praying day and night for the betterment of his father, filled him with a mix of hope and desperation. Her whispered pleas, her tear-streaked face, and her unwavering faith became a haunting backdrop to his childhood. Yet, despite her devotion, his father betrayed her, shattering their family. That betrayal caused his mother to choose death over her children. The bitter irony of it all-the unanswered prayers, the blind faith met with infidelity-gnawed at him. He felt abandoned, not just by his parents but by the very idea of a benevolent higher power. In that crushing moment of disillusionment, he swore off religion, cursing the heavens that had turned a deaf ear to his mother's relentless prayers.
