Making Her Mine- An IPKKND story.

Chapter 27 - Realization

Ankur's uncle did not come to speak to Arnav again, thank goodness. He dreaded a groveling apology more than an escalation of the situation—he highly doubted the man would come to pick a fight again, but an apology would definitely have been worse.

Khushi had vanished along with Preeto, and Arnav was considering going home until the wedding started when Buaji passed him, carrying a large cooler with pained grunts. Her grip slipped, and she almost dropped it to the floor.

"Buaji, what are you doing?" Arnav said, hastily going to her and holding it up.

"Babua," she gasped, "I'm taking this to the bride's room. She's getting ready."

"I'll do it," he said, grabbing the cooler before she dropped it and injured herself.

He lifted it up and went to the door Buaji had indicated, knocking on it with his toe.

"Yes, she's ready. Come in," a voice said.

He pushed the door open with the cooler and stepped inside.

A gaggle of young women surrounded the mirror, where Preeto was sitting, Khushi among them. No one paid him any attention.

"You didn't invite us to your wedding, Khushi!" a girl in bright blue was saying. "We wanted to see you as a bride!"

"Everything happened in such a rush, we couldn't invite many people," Khushi said, her voice high and cheery, the way it was when it threatened to crack.

"But you should show us the pictures. What did you wear? You just said the wedding day is the biggest day of a girl's life. How was yours?"

Arnav held the cooler up to hide his face.

"Yes, Khushi, tell us. Did your Arnav-ji lose his senses in awe when he saw you as a bride?" Another girl piped up, giggling.

"Jijaji is very handsome," a third girl, much younger, chimed in. "You must have been eager to get married to him!"

More giggling.

Arnav froze, but he stirred now, placing the cooler on the floor and inching out quietly, aware that he was intruding when he caught Khushi's eyes in the mirror.

No one else had noticed him, but Khushi could tell when he was around, and she looked right at him—an expression of such hurt in her eyes that it made him flinch.

Had she been eagerly waiting for their wedding? Arnav walked out of the room and then the house, his mind full of that day.

He had meant to ask her to marry him. She had known. She had believed that he had left her a message on the mirror and gone up to the terrace to meet him.

But instead of the wedding of her dreams—the supposedly best day of her life—Arnav had given her a nightmare. The memories flashed through his mind: him dragging her to the poolside, pressing into an injury on her wrist that he had tended to just the previous day; giving her the horrible ultimatum; her shock and horror at his words; her tears. The temple wedding—smearing sindoor on her head like it was a curse, clasping the mangalsutra around her neck as if it were a noose, giving her no opportunity to explain, allowing their families to berate her and question her morals. That was the wedding he had given her.

The best day of a girl's life. Had Khushi really said that to Preeto and the other women?

Arnav leaned against the wall, letting the night breeze cool his face. How had he never thought about how horribly he had crushed her dreams?

The hollow look in her eyes right before she met his in the mirror haunted him. How could he have imagined that things would be okay after all that? That she would forget? That because their families were no longer angry, everything was good now?

He finally understood her anger. It wasn't just about their families accepting their marriage. It was that he, Arnav, had stolen her dream and given her a nightmare in its place.