my duppata got stuck in your watch

1

Jiya had come to her best friend’s wedding with just one plan—enjoy to the fullest and let go of everything weighing her down. Her recent breakup with her boyfriend had left a deep scar, but she wasn’t someone to wallow in regret or look back once she decided to walk away. Self-respect had always been her strongest suit, and she wore it like armor.

But heartbreak wasn’t easy to ignore. The pain lingered, a silent companion she couldn’t quite shake off. Attending her friend’s wedding was her way of distracting herself—a chance to immerse in joy, laughter, and celebration, and maybe, just maybe, forget the ache in her heart for a while.

Yet, no matter how hard she tried to be strong, the ache of heartbreak wasn’t something that could simply be willed away. It lingered like an uninvited guest, showing up at the most unexpected moments. And today, in the midst of her friend’s joyous wedding, it seemed almost cruel. Still, Jiya refused to let it show. She had come here to escape it all—the pain, the memories, the feeling of loss—and if there was any place where she could forget for a while, it was here, surrounded by love, laughter, and celebration.

She could do this. She would do this.

The haldi ceremony was in full swing, the air filled with laughter and colors. Jiya, after applying the haldi to her best friend, made her way to the DJ booth, eager to lose herself in the music. The beat pulsed through the crowd, and she danced with an infectious energy, as though she were carefree, living in the moment. To everyone around her, she looked like the epitome of joy—the girl who lived for the present, who embraced life fully, without a worry in the world.

But only Jiya knew the truth. Beneath the rhythm of the music and the smile plastered on her face, there was a void. A silence deep inside her that no amount of dancing or laughter could fill. The pain she carried, the heartbreak that clung to her heart like an invisible weight, was something no one could see.

This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the real her. All of this—the laughter, the dancing, the songs—was just a facade. A way to pretend she wasn’t broken inside. To hide the emptiness that she couldn’t share with anyone. She danced because she had to, because if she stopped, the sadness would catch up to her. And she wasn’t ready for that.

After dancing for what felt like an eternity, Jiya was breathless, her body sore from the sudden burst of energy. Needing a moment to herself, she made her way to a quiet corner of the hall. As she passed by a waitress, she casually grabbed a cold drink from her tray, not really caring whether it was hers or not. She just needed something to hold onto, a small distraction from the weight of her own thoughts.

Sinking into an empty chair, Jiya closed her eyes for a brief moment. The noise of the celebration seemed far away now, and all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, still echoing from the dance floor. The smile she had worn so effortlessly was fading, replaced by the fatigue of pretending. The act of being happy, of forcing herself to laugh and celebrate, had taken its toll.

It wasn’t her. She was tired—tired of pretending, tired of hiding. She longed for a moment of peace, a brief escape from the constant pressure of keeping up appearances. But before she could let herself relax, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Jiya felt like she was caught in an endless spiral. Every time she thought, What could possibly be worse than this?—life had a way of proving her wrong.

It was her mother.

“Yes, Mom, what is it?” Jiya answered, her voice tight, trying to hide the frustration that had been building up inside her all night.

“How can you be so careless, Beta? Why didn’t you inform us? Do you ever think about how much we worry for you?” Her mother’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and concern, each word hitting deeper into Jiya’s already fragile state.

Jiya’s shoulders tensed as she replied, her patience wearing thin. “If I had informed you, would you have let me go? If I told you, would you have allowed me to leave?” Sarcasm and exhaustion laced her words, but beneath it was a hurt that spoke of feeling misunderstood and controlled.

“Beta, where are you right now? Your brother is coming to pick you up.” Her mother’s voice softened, but there was an urgency in it, as though she couldn't bear the thought of Jiya being alone in an unfamiliar place.

“Mom, there’s no need for that. I’m fine, and I’m at Sana’s wedding. Please don’t worry, and tell Bhaiya not to come pick me up.” Jiya’s words were calm, but there was a defiance in her voice now. She didn’t want to appear weak, but the loneliness was overwhelming. All she wanted was space, to breathe, to think.

“Oh God, this girl… we are your family, Beta. If we don’t worry about you, who will? If something happens to you, how will we live?” Her mother’s voice cracked with emotion, and Jiya could feel the pain and helplessness in her words.

Jiya closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of it all pressing down on her. “Enough, Maa! It’s enough. I just need some time right now.” Her voice cracked with raw desperation. The mask she had worn to be strong had started to crumble. She had tried so hard for everyone, but at that moment, she just wanted to break.

“Enough? What do you mean ‘enough’? You left in the middle of the night without telling anyone, and now you say it’s enough? Your father and brother have been searching for you all over the city, and you say it’s enough?” Her mother’s words were like a slap, filled with hurt and fear. Jiya could almost feel the panic her mother had gone through—the restless searching, the endless calls, the worry of not knowing where she was.

“Maa, please! I’m exhausted! I only arrived in India three hours ago. I don’t need this right now. You can scold me later, but not now. I just need some time, just a little bit of time.” Jiya’s voice broke, the raw emotion spilling out. She was tired of pretending, tired of trying to be the person everyone expected her to be.

“Beta, just listen to me...” Her mother’s voice softened, but there was still that deep concern in it.

“Okay, bye.” Jiya cut the call abruptly, her fingers trembling as the weight of the conversation hit her. She wanted to cry, to scream, to let it all out, but instead, she just sat there in silence, feeling more alone than ever.