The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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I sat at the corner desk in the college library, staring blankly at my notes. The words on the page blurred together, none of it making any sense. My mind was far from the classroom, stuck replaying the moment Priyanka's voice sliced through the fragile happiness I had felt just a while ago.
"Chudail kahi ki," I muttered under my breath, tapping my pen furiously against the desk. (That witch.) "Abhi hi aana tha use?" (She just had to show up now, didn’t she?)
I felt an uncomfortable heaviness in my chest. The bracelet on my wrist, once a source of joy, now seemed to mock me, as if reminding me how fleeting that moment of connection with Arjun had been. He had barely looked at me after Priyanka's arrival.
I tried to focus on the lecture, but every time I closed my eyes, I could see Priyanka's smug face. Ugh. I shook my head and grumbled, "Mujhse na ho payega." (I just can't do this.)
"Meera?" a voice interrupted my spiral.
I looked up to find Sanvi leaning over my desk, her sharp eyes scanning my face. "What's wrong with you? You've been sighing dramatically for the past ten minutes."
"Nothing happened," I replied hastily, sitting up straighter and forcing a smile. "I'm fine."
Sanvi didn't buy it for a second. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her perfectly arched eyebrow rose as she gave me the look. The look that said, You better spill or else.
"Meera," she warned, her tone low and dangerous.
"Nothing, Sanvi! Seriously!" I insisted, waving my hand dismissively.
Sanvi narrowed her eyes before abruptly grabbing my wrist. "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself."
"What—Sanvi!" I yelped as she pulled me up from my chair.
Ignoring my protests, she dragged me out of the classroom and into the empty corridor. "Sanvi, let me go! People are staring!"
"Let them stare," she shot back, yanking me along as if I were a rag doll. "You're clearly upset, and I'm not letting you sulk like some tragic heroine. Now talk!"
"Hey bhagwaan kaha gayi meri sedhi sadhi Sanvi, tum kon ho, kaha gayi woh sharmili?" (Oh God, where did my sweet and simple Sanvi go? Who are you, where’s that shy girl?) I said dramatically.
"Shut up Meera, agar meri dost Devdas banegi toh mujhe badalna hi padega," she said, adjusting her specs. (Shut up Meera. If my friend turns into Devdas, then I’ll have to change too.)
Once we were outside, she stopped and turned to me, hands on her hips. "Spill it, Meera. What's got you looking like someone stole your favorite pair of shoes?"
I sighed, knowing there was no escaping her. "It's nothing, really. Just... him."
Sanvi's expression softened for a moment before she smirked. "Ah, The Khadoos Himself. What did he do now? Or wait—what didn't he do?"
