His Forced Bride

18. Mehendi & Haldi

Rohini's POV:

Mehendi

The mehendi function was in full swing, and the courtyard was a burst of colors, with strings of marigolds and roses draped around every corner. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the aroma of jasmine and henna paste. But amidst the celebrations, I felt an ache—a loneliness that no lights or laughter could erase.

I was supposed to look perfect, sit still, and keep quiet—no one seemed to care how I felt or what I thought about the man I was marrying—except him, Aditya.

Since the day our engagement was announced, I'd caught him looking at me with a warmth and concern that I wasn't used to. He'd been quiet and thoughtful, always noticing when I felt out of place.

And now, with my palms up and my hands covered in fresh, intricate mehendi designs, I found myself wondering where he was. The artist had just finished, the deep green paste still drying on my hands, and I sat there, looking around, almost hoping he'd come through the crowd.

As if he'd heard my thoughts, there he was, standing just a few feet away, looking slightly hesitant, his eyes searching for mine. He was dressed in a simple but elegant kurta, the color making his skin look even warmer in the soft evening light.

And as soon as he saw me, his face softened, that familiar, gentle smile playing on his lips.

I offered a small, uncertain smile back. His gaze was intense, but there was a kindness in it—a feeling of safety that I didn't realize I'd been longing for. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way to me, the laughter and festivities around us fading as he drew closer.

"Your mehendi is beautiful," he said softly, his voice calm and gentle as he looked at my hands. "Does it have my name hidden somewhere?"

I chuckled, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "Maybe you'll have to find it," I replied, tilting my head as I looked up at him. He smiled, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

"You know," he said, leaning in a bit closer, "You look super gorgeous, I wish I could just keep you in my arms forever." His words were soft. A sincerity that made my heart skip a beat. I just blushed looking down and suddenly unable to speak. 

Just then, one of my aunts passed by, her eyes narrowing as she noticed how close Aditya and I were standing.

"Rohini," she said, her voice sharp. "You're the bride. Act like it. Stop talking so casually."

I flinched, feeling that familiar sting, the same feeling I'd had so many times before. But before I could lower my gaze, Aditya turned to her, his voice firm but polite.

"Actually Auntie," he said, giving her a calm smile, "I was just admiring Rohini's mehendi. She's doing exactly what a bride should do."

His words were careful, but there was a quiet authority in his tone that made my aunt hesitate, giving him a curt nod before moving on.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, and then, without saying a word, he reached out, carefully lifting one of my mehendi-covered hands. His touch was light, almost reverent as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile.

"If there's ever a moment," he said softly, his gaze steady on mine, "where you feel alone, remember... you aren't." The way he said it, the depth of his voice, sent a shiver down my spine. Here was someone who saw me and cared, despite my family's walls around me.

He was someone who did not consider me a burden. He did not feel ashamed of me after hearing about my past. He is someone I can lean on. Do I like him? Yes. Does he feel the same? I don't know. Is it just pity? But doesn't seem like a pity when I look into his eyes.