𝙎𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙮𝙖 and 𝘼𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙫𝙞 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙𝙞, business rivals and family friends, are forced into an arranged marriage. Bound by family duty, they must uncover hidden truths while navigating their explosive chemistry. Will their...
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Everything feels surreal. I'm standing on the stage in the grand hall of the Shandilya mansion-at my engagement. The thought echoes through my mind, refusing to settle. I'm engaged. My fingers tremble as I look at the ring, cool and heavy against my skin, sparkling under the chandeliers above. It feels like it's mocking me, a brilliant symbol of a future I'm not sure I want.
Shriyan had slipped the ring onto my finger with slow precision, his gaze never wavering from mine. I felt the brush of his fingers-steady, warm, too familiar. My breath hitched, caught in the weight of the moment, while his presence seemed to fill the room. It was impossible to ignore him-this man who was now my fiancé.
The pandit ji's voice echoes and draws my attention, announcing the cheka ceremony-the merging of our families through gifts. Everyone's eyes are on us, and I force myself to smile. But it's hard to focus; the weight of expectations presses down like a vise. His family is here in full force, yet I feel so alone. It should be a joyful occasion, but there's a hollow ache in my chest that I can't shake.
Gifts are exchanged-extravagant jewelry, elaborate saris, priceless artifacts, each more ostentatious than the last. I feel like a prized possession, admired for its value. As I arrange the presents from my side, I'm hit with a wave of grief. The absence of my parents, the void left by Aarav's death-it all crashes down at once. My hands shake as I straighten a box, trying to mask the pain.
"Now, the bride's side will do the groom's tilak," announces the pandit. My throat tightens, and for a moment, I can't move. Then, a comforting presence appears beside me. I glance up to see Priyansh, his eyes full of warmth. "Agar bhai ki jimmedari mein kami aaye, toh Rav bhoot banke mere peche bhatkega," he murmurs, his voice gentle and understanding. (If I don't complete my brotherly responsibilities, Rav will haunt me like a ghost)
I manage a weak smile as he wipes away the tears I didn't realize were falling, pressing a kiss to my forehead. For a second, it feels like Aarav is here, watching over me, and the grief softens, just a little.
Jhanvi steps forward, her presence gentle and grounding. She completes the ritual with a quiet grace and turns to me, her voice sincere, "I'm your bhabhi too, Aashvi. Don't keep me at a distance." Her words hold a promise I never expected-a bond I didn't realize I wanted. My smile turns genuine, and the emptiness begins to fade. Maybe I do have family here.
I search the room, suddenly aware that Ruhanika isn't here. Her absence stings more than I expected. I need her-her teasing, her warmth. But before I can dwell on it, Shriyan leans closer, his voice unexpectedly soft. "Breathe, Aashvi. You look like you might faint."
I force a shaky smile. The final gift rests in my hand-the sherwani my parents chose for Shriyan before everything changed. "My parents chose this a year ago," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. There's a flash of something in his eyes-guilt, sorrow, regret, but it vanishes as he accepts the gift. His fingers graze mine, and the room bursts into applause.
