What happens when a young woman finds herself standing at the altar, not as the chosen bride, but as the last-minute replacement for her elder sister who has fled? Forced into a marriage that was never meant to be hers, she faces a future filled wit...
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“How are you feeling?” I asked Akshit.
“Better than before,” he replied, munching on a packet of Lays I personally brought for him, since his brother wouldn’t let him have any. Even Dadi wouldn’t help. “You’re a lifesaver,” he mumbled between bites.
It had been four weeks since Akshit’s accident, and he was recovering fast. “You should start practicing walking with crutches.”
“Nah, that’d make me look old.” He scrunched his nose in disgust, as if the thought alone aged him instantly.
“But the doctor said—”
“Bhabhi, no tension, okay? Just chill.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Fine, don’t listen to me. Only your brother knows what’s best, right?” His expression changed instantly.
“Bhabhi, that’s not fair! I thought we were friends. How could you threaten me like that?” Akshit clutched his chest in mock hurt.
“Well, I’m just doing what’s good for you. So, listen to me, okay?”
He pouted dramatically before flopping onto the bed.
When I descended the stairs, I spotted a lady engaged in conversation with Dadi. As I approached, Dadi looked up with a warm smile. "Kashvi, meet Jaya. Abhi's Bua," she introduced, her voice gentle. I hadn’t met her before. With a respectful nod, I took her blessings and settled beside Dadi.
“Shadi mein nahi aapayi, par maine suna kya drama hua,” Jaya Bua remarked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, you’re the ‘Unchosenbride,’ huh?" She mused, her words light but piercing. ( I couldn’t attend the wedding, but I heard there was quite some drama )
“Jaya, why are you bringing this up—” Dadi began, her tone soft but pleading, only to be cut off by Jaya Bua’s firm voice.
“Arey, bole dijiye na. So, what do you do, Kashvi?” she asked, her gaze steady on me. ( Oh, let me say it )
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her question. Glancing at Dadi, she gave me an apologetic smile, her eyes silently encouraging me. “I’m an artist,” I said, my voice quiet but clear.
“Artist?” she scoffed, a small, mocking laugh escaping her lips. “It’s not as if Abhishek would need your earnings.”
“Jaya, bas karo. Don’t forget who she is. You cannot insult my bahu like that!” Dadi snapped, her voice sharp with protective anger. But Jaya Bua simply rolled her eyes, unfazed. ( Jaya, stop it )
I sat there, silently wishing Abhi would walk in and whisk us away. I didn’t want to stay a moment longer.
“Savita, make some tea,” Dadi called out to the housekeeper, her voice calmer now.
