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The wedding mandap shimmered like a dream — marigold garlands cascading from the canopy, flickering diyas painting golden strokes on the floor, and rose petals scattered like blessings across the polished marble.
The pandit ji’s voice echoed, calm yet commanding, as he chanted age-old mantras that seemed to pause the very air.
Karan and Kritika sat in the center — their hands joined, foreheads glistening with the tilak, eyes quietly locked in a universe of love and promises.
And just beside them?
Shivika.
In her simple yet elegant lehnga but on her it was looking something else straight from heaven . Her dupatta draped gracefully, a few strands of her hair swaying gently with the breeze from the fans. She was the picture of serenity — to everyone else.
But inside?
A storm.
She sat to Kritika’s left — and Siddharth to Karan’s right.
The mandap might have been wide, but the space between them was mere inches.
And yet, it felt like worlds.
Shivika tried not to look at him.
“I can feel him… even without looking.”
She could sense his stiffness, the tension in his shoulders, the tight way he held his breath between shlokas. His fingers were curled in his lap — knuckles pale from how tightly he clenched them.
“He hasn’t looked at me once.” “He hasn’t said anything since morning.” “Did I cross a line?” “Was it too much?”
She adjusted her dupatta slowly, hiding her fidgeting fingers beneath it. She tried to focus on Kritika, on the flames, on the ceremony that was about them.
But all she could feel… was him.
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Then — a soft buzz.
Siddharth looked down at his phone, the screen lighting up with a message.
He stared at it for a second too long. His brow furrowed.
And without a word, he leaned toward Karan.
“Important call. I’ll be back,” he murmured.
Karan just gave a small nod, still focused on Kritika’s hand in his.
Shivika’s eyes flicked to Siddharth as he stood.
She didn’t move. Not until he walked past her.
Their shoulders barely brushed.
Her breath caught.
He disappeared behind the jasmine curtain and out into the night.
And then — everything stilled.
The mantras continued. The guests smiled. The flames flickered.
But in her chest?
Only one sentence echoed.
“Yeh mauka ho sakta hai…” “Agar ab nahi bola, toh kabhi nahi.”
She didn’t wait.
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ISHQ VISHQ|| COMPLETED ✅||
Fantasy💔 "She waited her whole life to confess... but he kissed someone else." SHIVIKA MALHOTRA - 22, hopeless romantic, secretly in love with her childhood best friend SIDDHARTH SINGHANIA. She had loved him for years - through every heartbreak, every lat...
