"For all the girls who crave a love that's gentle in the daylight yet consuming in the dark. The kind of man who holds your hand with warmth, speaks with quiet devotion, and protects you like his own heart-until the door closes. Then, he's all fire...
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden hues across the bridal chamber. The entire house hummed with excitement-laughter, hurried footsteps, the scent of freshly strung jasmine and sandalwood-infused incense filled the air.
Diya sat in front of the mirror, her eyes scanning the reflection staring back at her. Was this really her?
The deep crimson of her bridal lehenga glowed under the soft light, its intricate golden embroidery weaving stories of tradition and promises yet to be fulfilled. The heavy dupatta was pinned securely over her intricately styled hair, while her jewelry-shining in gold and encrusted with rubies-rested gracefully on her neck and wrists. Her hands, adorned with the deepest shade of henna, trembled slightly as she placed them on her lap.
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Diya's wedding look
She looked beautiful-every bit the perfect bride. And yet, her heart thudded loudly in her chest, a storm of emotions swirling inside her.
The room, once filled with giggles and chatter, was now empty. The women-her aunts, cousins, and friends-had all left to get dressed, leaving her alone for the first time since morning. The sudden silence felt deafening.
She swallowed hard.
Today was her wedding. And while she had always known this day would come, she had never imagined it would feel like this-so overwhelming, so uncertain, so terrifyingly real.
Her hands clenched in her lap, then unclenched. Without thinking, she stood up and walked over to her already packed luggage. Her fingers brushed over the soft leather of her diary before she pulled it out, cradling it in her hands as if it held the answers to all the questions racing through her mind.
She needed to write. She needed to say it somewhere-everything she felt, everything she couldn't say out loud.
Taking a deep breath, she flipped to a fresh page, picked up her pen, and began.
Dear Diary,
Today, I am getting married.
Me-the girl who never believed in forever, who thought love was just an illusion wrapped in fleeting moments. The girl who was always afraid of marriage, not because she didn't believe in it, but because she feared the weight of expectations, the fear of endings, the ache of betrayal, the sting of disloyalty. I convinced myself that it was easier to be alone than to risk being left behind.
And yet, here I am. Draped in bridal red, my hands adorned with the richest shade of henna, my heart beating in sync with a name-his name.
I never thought I'd feel this way. Ours was an arranged marriage, yet from the moment he stepped into my life, it felt like the universe had been weaving us together long before we even knew it.
