Song suggestion: Ranjha (Shershaah)
ओह रब्ब वि खेल है खेले
रोज़ लगावे मेले
कहना कुछ ना बदला
झूठ बोले हर वेले
---𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘---
Meera’s POV
I was too overwhelmed.
My heart refused to slow down. It thudded violently against my ribs, each beat louder than the last, as if it wanted to tear its way out of my chest.
My breath came shallow, uneven, my lungs struggling to keep up with the chaos inside me. The world felt distant, muffled, like I was underwater.
I felt his fingers on my head.
Warm. Careful.
The pandit’s chants continued around us, rhythmic and sacred, but they barely registered anymore.
The words blurred together, echoing from far away, as though they belonged to someone else’s wedding and not mine.
I finally opened my eyes.
Tears welled up again, blurring my vision, clinging stubbornly to my lashes. My chest tightened as I forced myself to look ahead.
And the sight before me shook me to my core.
The man sitting beside me.
Aarth.
He wasn’t looking away. He wasn’t distracted by the crowd or the rituals or the noise around us. He was looking straight at me. Direct. Steady.
His face was composed, controlled, almost unreadable. But his eyes weren’t.
There was something there.
Something soft. Something… sad.
And I knew that look.
I knew it better than anyone.
Because I knew this man.
Aarth was none other than Sidharth Suryavanshi.
The whole world around me disappeared.
The chants. The fire. The people. The weight of the jewellery pressing into my skin. Everything faded into nothingness.
All I could see was him, sitting beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his arm through the fabric of our clothes.
Too close.
Close enough that it felt unreal.
The guy who had been haunting my thoughts for the last one month.
The guy I had been actively trying to avoid.
The guy whose name I refused to say out loud because every time I thought of it, my chest felt tight, my throat closed up.
He was right here.
And he was my—
My husband.
What the fuck.
My breath hitched, sharp and sudden, like my lungs had forgotten how to function.
My fingers curled tightly into my lehenga, gripping the fabric until my knuckles turned white. I needed something solid. Something real.
This had to be a joke.
YOU ARE READING
𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆✨️🦢🌷🪞
Romansa➴➵➶𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙧𝙖🪞 A spirited and determined woman, Meera Malhotra has spent years trying to escape the shadows of her family. Despite her reserved exterior and the grumpiness shaped by family pressures, her heart yearns for genuine co...
