Forbidden Mania | 18+

19.

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ꜰʟᴀꜱʜʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓴𝓪'𝓼 𝓟𝓸𝓿~

Golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, dancing softly across the walls of my room. I was lost in a vivid dream, a world far more enchanting than reality. My hands were stained with haldi, the cool paste smeared across my cheeks as laughter echoed around me. I glanced down at my yellow lehenga, its embroidery shimmering in the sunlight. People surrounded me, smiling, their joy palpable.

"She looks beautiful." Someone said, and I smiled, lowering my eyes as a warm blush crept over my cheeks.

The scene shifted seamlessly, and I found myself seated on a cushioned stool. My hands and feet were being adorned with mehendi, intricate vines and floral patterns curling around my fingers. The air was fragrant with henna, and a teasing voice whispered in my ear. "Let's see if Arsh can find his name hidden in the design."

I laughed, feeling light and carefree. My heart swelled with happiness as music filled the air, and I was suddenly on a brightly lit stage. It was my sangeet, the energy contagious as my Dad and friends danced around me. Arsh stood at the edge of the crowd, his eyes locked on mine. That smirk of his, the one that always made my heart skip a beat, was unmistakable.

The music faded, replaced by the solemn hum of the shehnai. I was draped in red now, the rich fabric of my wedding lehenga heavy on my shoulders. My dupatta covered my face, the delicate embroidery catching the light. My hands trembled slightly as I approached the mandap, the sound of my anklets punctuating each step.

And then, there he was. Arsh, standing tall in an ivory sherwani, his eyes filled with an emotion so pure it made my chest ache. His lips curved into a soft smile, and for a moment, the world stilled.

But suddenly his eyes turned cold, almost unbearable to look into. I shivered at his state which changed into someone who hates me to his core.

"Arsh." I whispered, my voice trembling with unspoken emotions.

The sound of a doorbell shattered the dream.

I shot up in bed, my heart racing as reality crashed over me. Disoriented, I looked around, the familiar sight of my room grounding me. The doorbell rang again, its sharpness cutting through the morning silence.

Blinking, I ran a hand through my hair and let out a breathless laugh. "Dreaming about my wedding already, and my would be husband hating me? Yeah sure." I muttered, shaking my head. My cheeks flushed at the thought, and I couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous I felt.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. My amusement faded as a frown tugged at my lips. I glanced at the clock. It was barely 7 a.m.

Who could it be this early?

I threw off the blanket and swung my legs over the side of the bed, shivering slightly as my feet touched the cool floor. Stretching, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My satin nightgown clung to me, the pale pink fabric soft against my skin.

Quickly, I reached for the dupatta hanging on the chair nearby, draping it over my shoulders to cover myself. I adjusted it carefully, ensuring it fell modestly past my waist.

As I made my way to the door, the quiet stillness of the morning seemed to amplify the sound of my footsteps with a mild sound of my anklets. Something about this felt strange. My heart was starting to beat faster, though I couldn't explain why.

The bell rang again, sharp and demanding, and I paused just a few steps from the door. My hand hovered over the doorknob, a strange sense of unease creeping up my spine. Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.