Sayesha got Rohan

4. By the pool, at 4

✨ POV :- SAYESHA ✨

The night is alive with the soft glow of lanterns and the twinkle of fairy lights strung across the venue. The garden is bathed in a warm, golden light as guests murmur excitedly, their voices creating a gentle hum in the air. I and Priti stand beside Kritika, my best friend, who looks radiant in her bridal attire, her eyes sparkling with joy.

The moment has arrived. We are walking Kritika down the aisle towards Kshitij, her soon-to-be husband, and our soon to-be jiju.

Each step we take is accompanied by the rustle of our dresses and the distant sound of celebratory music. I try to focus on the beauty of the occasion, but my mind keeps drifting.

Kritika's smile is bright, yet I can sense a tremble in her hands, a hint of nerves beneath her calm exterior. I squeeze her arm reassuringly, trying to offer her all the strength I can. As we reach the end of the aisle, the world seems to narrow down to this one moment-Kritika standing before Kshitij, their futures about to intertwine.

I step back, along with Priti and move to stand among the guests and family.

Honestly, I wish Anyesha would have been here. Kritika wanted her to be here too, but I couldn't. I just cannot bring here right now. It's so bad. The one thing I hate the most is people talking about Anyesha and me. Specially about me. They pity me like I deserve their sympathy. 

Hell no. I never deserved that. And I'll never. Not me, not Anyesha.

"You know, red is my least favorite color." I hear someone's low mocking voice near my ear- it's almost haunting and sudden that I flinch and turn around to look at it's owner, surprisingly.

The bastard. Rohan. Why I'm I surprised? Obviously it's him.

His eyes are scanning my lehenga. "Too flashy."

I drag my attention back to the real world, "As if I care about your favourites."

He smirks, as if enjoying the spark of anger in my eyes. "Well, you should." He is taunting me. Guts of this man.

"After all, we're supposed to be getting to know each other, right?" He steps closer, crowding my personal space. "Or is that only for show?"

I scoff, trying to keep myself calm, "Are you out of your mind? Why would I want to know you? AT ALL?"

He leans even closer, his voice low. "Because, sweetheart," he used that word of affection mockingly. "We're going to be seeing a lot more of each other." 

He lets his eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips and I want to punch him so hard on his jaw, "And not just at family functions."

I inhales sharply, my eyes flashing with indignation. "And why is that?" I challenge him, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

He leans in close, his voice barely a whisper. "Because," he says softly, "I intend to make you my business."

I chuckle, "I think, now I need to start counting about the times you keep on dreaming about the most impossible things that's ever going to happen."

"You think I'm joking?" he asks, his voice hardening. "Think again, sweetheart."

I absolutely hate the way how he is calling me anything but 'sweetheart.'

"Stop calling me that or I'm very much capable of breaking your balls."

He laughs, a low, mocking sound. "Big words from such a little thing." He says, his eyes glinting with amusement. He leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Go ahead, try it."