𝙎𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙮𝙖 and 𝘼𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙫𝙞 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙𝙞, business rivals and family friends, are forced into an arranged marriage. Bound by family duty, they must uncover hidden truths while navigating their explosive chemistry. Will their...
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The evening arrived sooner than expected. Draped in my own company, I stood still, my gaze sweeping over the house as the Singhania staff and family buzzed around, creating a lively, festive atmosphere. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the soft hum of voices, yet a quiet ache still pressed heavily against my chest. The weight of loss had a familiar hold on me, especially after the morning's rituals for my parents. But there was something else-beneath the sadness, a subtle hum of excitement and a nervous flutter in my stomach.
It was strange, this mix of emotions. A part of me ached for what I'd lost-what I would never get back-but another part, perhaps one I hadn't noticed before, was proud. Proud of the woman I had become, the resilience I had found in just a year. A year ago, I would've let the grief consume me, but today... today I was celebrating. Not just the festivities around me, but the quiet strength I had discovered within myself.
As the makeup artist and stylist moved around me with precision, perfecting every detail, I watched them through the mirror, a tangle of emotions churning in my chest. The sadness, always there, clung to me like a second skin, but there was also a sense of triumph. I was still here, standing strong, despite the pain. Despite everything.
Looking at my reflection, I realised this wasn't just a celebration for those around me-it was a celebration for me. For surviving. For evolving. I wasn't the same person I was a year ago. And while the loss still haunted me, I couldn't help but acknowledge the quiet pride swelling inside. I had come this far. And that, in itself, was worth honouring.
As I prepared to make my way downstairs, dressed in the luxurious attire Anika had sent, I felt a surge of strength, almost as if her presence were with me. The gown was perfect, elegant yet modern, a true reflection of how deeply she understood me. The way it highlighted every intricate detail, making me look regal yet effortlessly contemporary, was a reminder of our bond. The thigh chain added just the right touch of Gen Z flair, making the outfit feel distinctly mine.
The dress hugged my body in all the right places, accentuating my curves with a precision that made me pause. The silk draped effortlessly over me, the fabric flowing like liquid, yet somehow managing to cling to every contour. It was stunning, but I couldn't ignore the flicker of insecurity that crept in as I looked at myself. Lately, I haven't been as consistent with my diet or workouts; the weight of grief and the demands of work have drained me of any motivation. I'd let myself go, or at least that's what I told myself in moments of guilt.
I ran my hands over the smooth material, feeling both empowered and exposed. The dress was bold, unapologetic in the way it highlighted my hips and waist, areas I had avoided focusing on for weeks. It was as if Anika knew, even without me saying a word, that I needed this. That I needed a reminder of who I was beyond the pain, the exhaustion, the self-doubt.
I had ignored myself for too long, pouring everything into work and burying myself in the past, but tonight... tonight felt different. The guilt still lingered, but as I stared at my reflection, I realized that I couldn't keep punishing myself for slipping up. This wasn't just about how I looked-it was about remembering my worth, reclaiming the confidence I had allowed to wane.
