When Aarav Kapoor, a shrewd businessman born into wealth, and Aanya Mehra, an ambitious architect returning to India, are thrust into an arranged marriage, neither is prepared for the secrets beneath their union. What begins as a reluctant compromis...
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The haldi ceremony had spilled into a full-blown celebration by the time I returned to the courtyard. Music blared, children ran around with mischievous laughter, and the elderly sat on brightly colored cushions, chatting and enjoying the festivities. Yellow marigold garlands swayed gently in the cool breeze, matching the golden tint on everyone's faces.
Before I could gather my thoughts, Bittu and Chote grabbed my hands, pulling me to the center of the courtyard.
"Didi, you've been hiding all morning!" Chote teased, his face smeared with turmeric. "Come on, dance with us!"
Bittu chimed in, "Yes, Didi! You're the bride—stop sulking and start twirling!"
They dragged me onto the makeshift dance floor, where women spun to the beats of "Navrai Majhi". Their joy was infectious, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to smile, letting the music drown out my doubts.
But the moment I saw him, my smile faltered.
Aarav was standing by the entrance, greeting my parents with folded hands. His tall frame looked almost regal in a white kurta that complemented his dusky skin. As he bent to touch Baba's feet, my father's face lit up with pride. Maa clasped her hands together, her eyes shimmering with approval.
They looked at him like he was already their son, their chosen one.
And for the first time, I saw Aarav through their eyes—not as the enigmatic stranger who frustrated me to no end but as a man they believed in, someone they trusted with my future.
My heart twisted in confusion.
Bittu noticed immediately. She always did. She grabbed my arm and pulled me to a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes and the blaring music.
"What's going on, Didi?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Are you still thinking about... running away?"
I hesitated, looking down at my haldi-streaked hands. The golden color had seeped into my skin, just like the traditions and expectations I felt chained by.
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "When I see everyone so happy, so sure about this, I feel like maybe I'm overthinking it. But then..." I trailed off, my thoughts spiraling back to the cryptic conversation I overheard in Baba's study.
"But then what?" Bittu pressed, her tone softening.
"I feel like I don't know anything," I said, looking at her helplessly. "This marriage—this whole situation—it's going to change my life forever. I can feel it in my bones. But I don't know if it'll be for the better... or worse."
Bittu sighed, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "Didi, you've always been the one to put others first—Maa, Baba, even me and Chote. But this time, you need to think about yourself. What do you want? Forget Aarav, forget Maa and Baba, forget everyone else. Are you okay with this marriage?"
