The Promised Queen

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎 𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

RIDHIMA

The courtyard was filled with laughter, the scent of marigolds, and the lively beats of dhol music. The Haldi ceremony was in full swing, the atmosphere electric as friends and family smeared turmeric on me, each one wishing for luck and happiness in my marriage. 

It was surreal—seeing everyone I loved gathered here for me, dressed in beautiful shades of yellow, laughing and celebrating with such joy.

As the ceremony continued, my mother stepped forward with a small bowl of haldi in her hands, her smile soft but her eyes already glistening with unshed tears. She reached out, dabbing the turmeric paste gently onto my cheeks, her touch lingering a bit longer than anyone else's.

"Laado," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the music. "You're really all grown up now."

I tried to laugh it off, but there was something in her gaze—something that made the knot in my throat tighten. She looked at me with such pride, and yet, such sadness.

"Ma," I whispered, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. "Don't start crying now. You know if you cry, I'll start too."

She shook her head, her eyes full of love as she brushed her hand over my hair. "I can't help it, beta. I just... I never thought this day would come so soon. It feels like just yesterday you were this little girl running around everywhere, always asking so many questions, making a mess. And now look at you..."

Her words trailed off, and she let out a shaky breath, her eyes shining with memories that only she could see.

I reached up, covering her hand with mine.

"Maybe not so little. But I'll always be your girl."

She gave a small, tearful laugh, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her dupatta. "You are. You always will be. But today... today, I wish your father was here to see you."

My heart clenched at the mention of my father. On a day like this, it felt sharper, like a wound that had just been reopened.

I know," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I wish he were here too."

My mother's hand tightened around mine, and she looked down, trying to keep herself composed.

I nodded, unable to speak, and pulled her into a tight hug, burying my face in her shoulder as I let the tears fall. For a moment, the sounds of laughter and celebration faded, and all I could feel was the warmth of my mother's embrace, grounding me, reminding me that I was loved, that I was not alone.

After a long moment, she pulled back, wiping away her own tears and giving me a soft, shaky smile. "Now, no more tears," she said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. "Today is a happy day, yes?"

I laughed softly, nodding as I wiped my face. "Yes, a happy day."

She smiled, brushing my hair back one last time before stepping aside, allowing the others to take over with the Haldi.