The night had quietly bowed to the early whispers of dawn. The sky was painted in gentle shades of orange and pink, as the first rays of sunlight stretched through the branches of tall trees surrounding the opulent mansion.
A soft breeze passed through the leaves, making them rustle like they were humming a lullaby of sorrow and silence. The birds chirped melodiously, their songs floating through the air like notes of forgotten joy. Dew drops still clung to the grass and the petals of the flowers bloomed in the mansion's terrace garden.
And right there, on the rooftop swing, amidst the gentle beauty of morning...
She sat. Alone. In stillness.
The swing barely moved, creaking softly with the breeze, as if carrying her weight of sadness.
A red saree draped her body - a rich crimson, vibrant and full of life, but starkly contrasting the lifelessness in her eyes. Her bangles jingled faintly as she clutched the edge of her pallu near her heart. The soft clink of glass echoed like distant chimes of broken promises.
Her hair was open, cascading over her back in soft waves, gently dancing with the wind. A tiny red bindi sat delicately on her forehead, while thick kajal surrounded eyes filled with grief and sleep-deprived weariness.
Her eyes stared at the sunrise... but she felt no warmth.
A soft shade of red lipstick adorned her lips - lips that hadn't smiled since last night. And there it was - the sindoor in the parting of her hair. Bright. Bold. Sacred. A symbol of marriage, of commitment... of a bond that now felt more like chains.
Her fingers absentmindedly touched the mangalsutra around her neck. She wasn't holding it... She was clinging to it.
Like a girl who wanted to believe that somewhere in all of this... there was still meaning.
But her heart knew. She was no queen of his heart - just a name written in the family book.
A faint tear rolled down her cheek... not fast, not dramatic - just enough to whisper that she had cried all night but still hadn't emptied the ocean within her.
The wind picked up slightly. Her saree fluttered softly, like her soul - shaken, untethered.
She looked toward the sky and whispered with trembling lips-
"Mujhe nahi pata maine kis galti ki saza paayi hai... Par shayad... Mujhe sirf naam mila hai, rishta nahi..."
Her voice broke.
She closed her eyes... and hugged herself. Not to feel warm. Just to feel something.
This was not the morning of a bride... It was the dawn of a girl who had just lost her right to dream.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
