𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘

●5 The Marriage or revenge?

Tara's POV

This can’t be happening. I’m marrying the man I’ve been avoiding for three years. I know too much about him, and yet, here I am, walking into this marriage.

Marrying someone like Rishabh was never part of my plan. Why, God, why did it have to be him? I feel trapped, like I’ve been backed into a corner.

I need to save my mom’s company, but marrying him? This isn’t how I pictured doing it. Naina has no clue who he really is. If she did, she’d never let me go through with this wedding.

But this is my choice. If I refuse, I know he’ll ruin my mom’s business. So I’m marrying him—not out of love, but for revenge. For what he did to me three years ago.

After overhearing that conversation, my decision was made. I’m going to make him pay.

This is my last option, and I’m going through with it. No one can stop me now.

My makeup artist interrupts my thoughts. “Ma’am, you look gorgeous!” she says, beaming. I return the smile, though it feels forced, and glance at myself in the mirror.

In this red lehenga, with its intricate gold work, I look so much like my mother. A bittersweet smile tugs at my lips.

Naina bursts into the room. “Tara, are you ready—” She freezes, her eyes lighting up as she looks at me.

She rushes to hug me tightly. “Oh my God! You look stunning!” she exclaims, squeezing me tighter.

She’s the only one I can trust. My family? They only care about themselves. But Naina? She genuinely cares about me.

I can’t let her worry. “Kahaan kho gayi? You’re glowing. May no one cast an evil eye on you,” she says warmly.

I smile, thinking of how she’s been my rock throughout this exhausting process.

Over the years, she’s become like family to me.

“Hey, what’s on your mind? Let’s go!” she says, gently fixing my dupatta, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I take her hands, stand up, and pull her into a hug.

She laughs, pulling back. “Don’t get too emotional now!” she teases. I manage a small smile.

Just then, my stepmother walks in, and my smile fades. “You look beautiful,” she says, but her expression is hard to read.

I nod politely. “Come on, everyone’s waiting!” she snaps, ushering us out of the room.

I follow, Naina at my side, and Mrs. Mehra trailing behind.

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Author's POV

The wedding hall glows with golden light, the chandeliers casting soft shadows across the floor. The sweet scent of roses and marigolds fills the air, mixing with the soft sound of shehnai music. Tara stands at the top of the grand staircase, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of her red lehenga, covered in intricate gold embroidery, feels heavy—but not as heavy as the weight in her heart.

Her fingers grip the railing, the mehndi on her hands trembling slightly. This is it. She takes a step forward, the sound of her anklets drowned out by her racing thoughts. Below her, the room blurs, but there he is—Rishabh, standing by the mandap. The man she’s about to marry. The man she’s about to destroy.

With every phera we take, she tells herself, I’ll get one step closer to my revenge.

As she walks down the stairs, she forces a smile. This is what he wanted, right? A big, traditional wedding, family approval, everything he thought she’d want. Maybe once she did, but those dreams are long gone. Now, it’s just part of the plan.

Each step feels heavier, memories flashing through her mind—his betrayal, his lies, the pain he caused. She takes a deep breath, the jasmine scent of her garland clinging to her. You ruined my life, Rishabh, she thinks, her eyes narrowing as they lock with his. Now it’s my turn.

As she reaches the bottom, her heart skips a beat. The sounds of the hall—the whispers, the music—fade into the background. All she sees is him. Calm. Too calm. But there’s something in his eyes, something uncertain. Good, she thinks. You should be worried.

She walks toward him, her dupatta flowing behind her, hiding all the secrets she’ll never tell. They exchange garlands, their smiles hollow. To everyone else, they look like the perfect couple, but inside, Tara’s thoughts are sharp with venom.

When the priest calls for the pheras, her hands feel cold. She steps beside him, the fire crackling in front of them. Each step around this fire will bind him to her, and her revenge to him.

The first phera—For every step you take, Rishabh, I’ll make sure you lose something you care about.

The second—I'll break you, piece by piece, just like you broke me.

The third—You’ll smile, but it’ll be as fake as mine.

With each step, the weight in her chest feels lighter. The fire crackles, almost as if it knows her darkest thoughts. He won’t even see it coming, but she’ll be the one to tear him apart.

As they finish the seventh and final phera, she feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. He takes her hand, his grip firm, but she doesn’t care. She’s the one in control now. She leans in, whispering under her breath.

The priest instructs Rishabh to place the sindoor in her hair and fasten the mangalsutra around her neck.

He follows the instructions, and the wedding is complete. Applause and cheers fill the hall.

But Tara and Rishabh are playing a different game.

As they rise to take the elders’ blessings, Tara’s lips curl into a sly smile.

“Your worst nightmare is just beginning, Mr. Rishabh Malhotra,” she whispers to herself.

“Your best chapter is just beginning, Mrs. Tara Rishabh Malhotra,” Rishabh thinks to himself, smiling softly.

Tanvi approaches as Tara walks toward the car, with Rishabh following behind.

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