Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

71. Just One Day Will Make No Difference

The wedding rituals began. The air felt heavy with the eyes of the guests, all of them watching us, their curiosity almost suffocating me. My heart raced, not just because of the ritual, but because of the overwhelming sense of being trapped.

I glanced at Ryan, who sat beside me. He looked stunning, more handsome than I’d ever seen him. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat. When he noticed me staring, he raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was wrong.

Leaning in closer, I whispered, “I’m thirsty. I need something to drink.”

He blinked, a hint of disbelief crossing his face before he leaned closer, his voice low. “We’re in the middle of the ritual, and you want a drink?”

I nodded, my eyes pleading. Maybe my desperation softened him because he quietly asked his cousin to bring me something. She returned with a glass of mango juice, discreetly placing it near the mandap so it wouldn’t be seen. After all, getting caught drinking during the ceremony would be considered a bad omen.

Ryan subtly slid the glass towards me, and I smiled gratefully beneath my ghoonghat. Carefully, I lifted the veil slightly and sipped the juice, hoping no one would notice. The cool drink soothed my nerves, if only for a moment, as I sipped it stealthily, hidden from prying eyes.

The wedding had finally come to a close, and we moved to the photo shoot section. As we walked in, I saw Vicky and the rest of our friends gathered, clearly waiting to pounce with their teasing remarks. Their eyes lit up as soon as they saw us, and the taunts began immediately. I did my best to ignore them, though every word hit a little harder than I cared to admit.

Ryan stood stiffly beside me, clearly uncomfortable. He muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration. "If you hadn’t confessed to me, I wouldn’t be in this position. I wouldn’t have lost my pride because of you." He glanced toward our friends, still laughing and joking. "They never dared to taunt me like this before."

I clenched my jaw, keeping my tone calm as I replied, "They’re teasing you, Ryan, and they’re taunting me. You might still have your pride, but me? I’ve lost mine completely."

His expression softened for a moment, though he tried to hide it. He sighed, realizing the weight of the situation. "Alright, fine," he said, his tone shifting slightly. "But now, smile. The cameraman’s clicking away, and we can’t look like we’re sulking in our own wedding pictures."

I forced a smile, trying to make it look somewhat genuine. "And you should at least pretend to pose like it’s a real love marriage," I added, glancing sideways at him. "I don’t want to prove myself wrong, especially in front of our school friends."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips as he adjusted his posture for the camera. "Fine," he muttered under his breath.

As the camera clicked away, we stood side by side, pretending to be a happy couple. On the outside, we appeared flawless, but beneath the surface, both of us were struggling to maintain the act.

The final moment had arrived—bidaai. My parents were already in tears, their faces wet with sorrow as they clung to the reality of the moment. The weight of leaving home hung heavy in the air, but I stood there, feeling strangely detached. It all felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold.

Shriya, noticing my blank expression, hurried over, her eyes wide with disbelief. She pulled me into a tight embrace, her voice a quiet whisper in my ear. "Why aren’t you crying?" she asked, her tone a mix of confusion and frustration.

I sighed, feeling the pressure of everyone’s expectations but unable to meet them. "How am I supposed to force myself to cry?" I replied softly, looking into her bewildered eyes.

She pulled back, frowning at me, her frustration evident. "You’re such a rude brat!" she exclaimed, giving me a playful but annoyed shove.

I gave a weak smile, though there was little warmth behind it. "It’s not that I don’t care, Shriya. It’s just… none of this feels real yet. It’s like it hasn’t hit me," I admitted.

She stared at me, her frown deepening as she tried to understand. "But you still need to pretend," she said insistently. "Everyone’s watching. You’re supposed to look sad. It’s tradition."

I couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into my voice. "Pretend?" I echoed, meeting her gaze with a heaviness that had been building inside me for years. "I’ve been sad since graduation, Shriya. And no one noticed. Not a single person. So what difference does it make if I cry today? How will this one day make everyone see the turmoil I’ve been carrying all along?"

Her face softened. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she just stood there, watching me, getting into the car.