𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙕𝙀𝙉 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙎 |short series | ~{Shubman Gill}

CHAPTER-3

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Shubman's mother stood in the doorway, smiling warmly. "Good morning, newlyweds," she said with a cheerful tone. "Ready for the pheli rasoi ritual?"

Shubman sighed inwardly at the prospect of another traditional wedding ritual. He was already feeling drained and mentally exhausted, and the thought of having to go through yet another ceremony made him feel even more drained.

He looked at Y/N, wondering how she was going to react to the invitation. To his surprise, she simply nodded and gave a small, but polite smile. "Sure, I'm ready," she said in a calm voice.

Shubman's mother beamed, clearly pleased with Y/N's agreeable attitude. "Excellent!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let's not keep the elders waiting. They're really looking forward to this."

Shubman couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at Y/N's easy acceptance of the situation. He wasn't looking forward to this next ritual, but he knew he had no choice in the matter, and there was no point in resisting. He stood up, running a hand through his hair, and followed his mother and Y/N out of the room.

The pheli rasoi ritual was a traditional practice in Punjabi wedding ceremonies. A newly married couple was expected to cook a meal together as a way of bonding and showcasing their domestic skills.

Shubman stood next to Y/N in the kitchen, watching as she expertly chopped vegetables and stirred spices, preparing a traditional Punjabi meal. He tried to look engaged, but he was struggling to ignore the awkwardness and unfamiliarity of the situation.

Shubman's mother and the other female relatives were gathered around, watching Y/N with approving smiles and nods. They seemed genuinely impressed by her cooking skills, chattering amongst themselves about what a wonderful daughter-in-law she was going to be.

Shubman felt a pang of annoyance at the praise and approval directed towards Y/N. It was like everyone was forgetting that he was the groom, the man of the hour, while all the attention was focused on his new wife. He bristled silently, feeling strangely invisible and overshadowed.

Y/N was acutely aware of the attention and praise directed towards her as she continued to prepare the meal. But internally, she was feeling a mixture of emotions - mostly a sense of detachment and indifference. This whole situation was surreal for her, a carefully orchestrated and pre-determined event. She tried to focus on the cooking task, but beneath the surface, her mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

She was doing her best to maintain a calm and polite facade, but deep down, she was struggling to adjust to this sudden transition from being a single, independent girl to a newly married woman. She glanced sidelong at Shubman, who stood next to her, looking somewhat uneasy and detached. She couldn't help but wonder what he was truly thinking and feeling in this moment.

She continued to cook, her hands working on autopilot, her mind wandering to other things. She thought about her life before this, her freedom, her independence. She had always thought she would marry someone she loved, that she would have a say in the matter. But here she was, cooking with a stranger, bound to him by a contract, not by love.

Y/N tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on the task at hand. But the sense of detachment and resignation lingered, settling over her like a heavy coat. She supposed this was her life now, whether she liked it or not, and there was no use in dwelling on things that could never be.