What happens when a young woman finds herself standing at the altar, not as the chosen bride, but as the last-minute replacement for her elder sister who has fled? Forced into a marriage that was never meant to be hers, she faces a future filled wit...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
“Yeh bhi dekho,” Dadi said, pushing another photo album toward me. It was filled with Abhi's adorable childhood pictures. ( Look at this too )
"He's so cute," I added shyly, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. Seriously, who would have thought that the little boy running after a dragonfly would someday be my husband?
“Woh toh hai. Mere dono bachche ekdum unke dada par gaye hai,” Dadi said, her eyes sparkling with a proud yet distant smile. My heart swelled at her words. She must have gone through so much, losing her husband, then her son and daughter-in-law. Yet she remained so strong. ( That's true. Both my children have taken after their grandfather )
Today, Dadi wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to spend some time with her. I’d even asked Abhi if I could stay here for a few nights. He objected at first, but the moment I mentioned Dadi’s health, he immediately agreed.
We were lost in our conversation when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper went to open the door. As soon as it swung open, a stunning woman entered, her blonde hair perfectly styled, and heels clicking with every step. She looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine—a model, without a doubt.
“Dadi, how are you?” the woman said as she walked in, hugging Dadi with a familiar ease.
Dadi hugged her back, smiling warmly. “Ravi beta, when did you come back from abroad?”
“Just last week, so I thought of meeting you,” she replied, her gaze sweeping over me briefly before she added, “Where’s Abhi? I came especially for him.”
The way she said Abhi’s name felt off, like it held some unspoken meaning. And what did she mean by ‘came especially for him’? Who is she, really?
“Hi, I’m Ravi Chauhan. Abhi’s best friend,” she said, extending her hand toward me, her eyes holding a look I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Hey, nice meeting you. Name’s Kashvi Abhishek Prem Mehra,” I replied, watching as her fake smile faltered for a second, revealing her true self before she carefully masked it again.
“Let’s take a seat first,” Dadi interjected, breaking the silent standoff between us as we all settled on the couch.
“What are you doing these days, Ravi?” Dadi asked.
“I’m handling Dad’s business for now. Planning to become the efficient successor soon,” Ravi said with a proud, almost arrogant, tone. “I plan to stay here for a few days, but I haven’t found a suitable hotel yet.”
“Stay here. It’s not like it would be the first time, right?” Dadi offered kindly.
“Haan, bachpan mein Abhi aur main itna maza karte tha. We are inseparable.” Ravi, or should I say, the chhipkali, shot me a side-eye. What was she trying to imply? ( Yes, Abhi and I used to have so much fun during childhood )
