Beneath The Storm

Chapter-6: Whispers In The Grand Hall

The grand Rajvansh mansion shimmered under the golden glow of hundreds of fairy lights, standing tall and majestic, a beacon of opulence and power. The lawn was transformed into a lush garden of flowers and velvet canopies for the reception of the newlyweds. High-profile guests—politicians, industrialists, and celebrities—moved around with practiced elegance, exchanging pleasantries, their laughter echoing in the cool evening air.

  Inaara sat on the elegantly decorated stage, her royal blue lehenga shimmering under the cascading chandeliers, the intricate embroidery catching the light with every slight movement. The color perfectly complemented her milky white skin, enhancing her delicate features. She was a picture of grace and serenity, but her insides churned with nervousness

To the outside world, she looked like a picture-perfect bride, but inside, she felt like a doll on display—a doll whose key had been turned, programmed to smile and nod. She forced another smile as another guest approached to greet her.

Atharv stood a few steps away, commanding his usual aura of authority and charm. He moved effortlessly from one prominent guest to another, exchanging pleasantries and ensuring everything was in order. Occasionally, he would stand beside her, his presence like a cold shadow reminding her of her new reality.As she stood there, Inaara saw the guests beginning to notice her. She caught snippets of their hushed whispers:

“Is that Atharv’s wife? She doesn’t look like the typical socialite.”

“She’s from a middle-class background, isn’t she?”

“I wonder how she’ll handle all this.”

Inaara felt their eyes on her, sizing her up, judging her. She took a deep breath, reminded herself to stay calm, and plastered a soft, polite smile on her face.

Sangeeta and Avni smiled warmly at everyone, Anjana, however, kept her distance, her eyes hawkish, watching every move.

A tall woman with a perfectly styled bob and a designer saree approached them. “Congratulations, Atharv,” she said, her voice dripping with charm. She then turned to Inaara. “And you must be Mrs. Atharv Rajvansh. I’m Sheetal Kapoor, an old business associate of Atharv’s.”

Inaara extended her hand politely. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kapoor.”

“Oh, please, call me Sheetal,” the woman insisted with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I must say, you’re quite different from what I imagined. Atharv always had a thing for sophistication.”

Inaara’s polite smile never faltered. “I believe sophistication comes in many forms, Mrs. Kapoor,” she replied, her tone calm and steady.

Atharv’s lips twitched in what could have been amusement or annoyance; it was hard to tell. Sheetal raised an eyebrow but said nothing further, quickly moving on.  

  The reception hall was filled with the most influential personalities in India—celebrities, politicians, business moguls—all gathered under one roof to celebrate the union of Inaara Sharma and Atharv Rajvansh. It should have been overwhelming, but Inaara felt strangely detached, like an observer in her own life 

Suddenly, a pretty girl with an infectious smile approached her. "Congratulations, Inaara," she said warmly.

Inaara returned the smile, albeit a bit cautiously. “Thank you.”