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| Chapter 2 | "Sometimes, relationships in life feel like a path where we learn to walk while hiding our emotions."
The room felt suffocating, not because of its warmth, but because of the weight of expectations that pressed down on Bhargavi like an unyielding hand. She sat on the edge of the floral-patterned sofa, her posture rigid, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned white. Her mother sat beside her, her face lit with pride that Bhargavi wished she could share.
"This is a match made in heaven," her mother gushed, her voice brimming with delight, the kind that made Bhargavi's stomach churn. "Our Bhargavi is hardworking and respectful, and Mrs. Khatri, your son-what an accomplished man!"
Hardworking. Respectful. Was that all she was?
A list of adjectives strung together to make her palatable to strangers? Bhargavi's throat tightened as she stared at her hands, willing herself not to show the turmoil brewing inside.
Across the room, Vikram sat with his mother, Kamini Khatri. They occupied the opposite couch like royalty on a throne, exuding an air of sophistication that made Bhargavi feel painfully small. Kamini's sharp eyes scanned the room, her smile polite but detached, as if she were observing a business transaction.
"We believe family values are the foundation of a good match," Kamini said smoothly, her voice laced with the authority of someone used to having their way. "Vikram, too, understands the importance of tradition."
Bhargavi sneaked a glance at Vikram. His face was a blank canvas-stoic, unreadable, and frustratingly distant.
His eyes seemed to focus somewhere between the carpet and the wall, refusing to meet hers. He looked exactly like the man she had expected him to be: polished, controlled, and utterly devoid of warmth. A man who probably saw this as just another checkbox in his meticulously planned life.
Did he even want this? Did it matter if she didn't?
"I think this marriage will be beneficial for both families," Kamini continued, her words striking a chord of irony in Bhargavi's chest.
Beneficial. That was what this was about, wasn't it? A transaction, a merger of two lives for the sake of appearances and convenience. Love, respect, individuality-none of those seemed to matter.
"Bhargavi, don't you agree?" Her mother's sharp nudge pulled her out of her thoughts.
She forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Yes, Amma. It's an...honor."
The word felt foreign on her tongue, hollow and meaningless. But no one seemed to notice, least of all her mother, who beamed at her as if she'd just won an award.
The engagement was fixed for the following week. Everything moved so quickly, like she was caught in a whirlwind with no time to catch her breath. She felt like a puppet, her strings pulled by hands she couldn't see, her life spiraling out of her control.
