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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
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.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was a joyous affair, brimming with colour and laughter. The blushing bride and groom faced each other, ready to begin their jaimala ceremony. Khushi's radiant smile lit up her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief and laughter. She was delighted to witness not only her brother's wedding but also one of her childhood friend's special day. She was somewhat relieved to see Arnav loosen up a bit as well.
Khushi was ecstatic when Mr. Ganguly and his family left early to catch their train, unable to stay for the late-night pheres. They promised to keep in touch once back in Calcutta. She secretly hoped they would break their promise.
As soon as the Pandit asked them to proceed the ceremony, Akash lifted Aman to prevent Anjali from placing the jaimala around his neck, causing ripples of laughter among the crowd. Suddenly, Arnav appeared from behind and lifted Anjali up, surprising both brothers. As a result, Anjali successfully placed the mala around her future husband's neck.
It was such a trivial moment, but Khushi couldn't help but blush as the muscles of his arms bulged beneath the black kurta from the exertion. The corded muscles of his back and shoulders rippled with strength as he moved. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his defined forearms sprinkled with dark hair. He had gotten a haircut a few days ago, and the neatness of it accentuated the ruggedness of the two-day stubble, making him look irresistibly handsome.
Khushi's gaze lingered on him, captivated by the effortless masculinity he exuded. Her thoughts began to drift, drawn into a vivid daydream. She imagined him dressed as a groom, standing tall and proud in a mandap adorned with flowers and lights. She saw herself standing beside him, her hands adorned with henna, dressed in a resplendent bridal outfit. The image was so vivid and beautiful that it made her heart ache. But as quickly as the vision appeared, she shook her head to dispel it. Khushi lowered her head, her cheeks still warm from the blush, and tried to focus on the present, determined not to let her imagination run wild.
