The missing bride
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It was the day Kavya Gupta weds Sanjeev Malhotra ten minutes remaining before the wedding ceremony was about to start Kavya was alone in her room looking at herself all decked and unhappy she wasn't exactly forced to marry Sanjeev but agreed to keep the family happy.
Kavya sat waiting for miracle to happen so she wouldn't have to marry Sanjeev little did she know the miracle she was waiting for was actually a curse. Kavya looked down at her hand mehndi it was a tradition to write the husband name on your hand she looked for Sanjeev name on her hand written in mehndi only to find a different name printed on her right hand it was Aman her eyes widened. Who was Aman? She thought to herself she looked back up in the mirror only to see a man she didn't recognise behind her before she could scream or say anything he put his hand over her mouth and nose and slowly Kavya felt sleepy and fell into a deep sleep...
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She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the blur of soft golden lights and the scent of fresh roses lingering heavily in the air. The room around her was beautifully adorned-delicate drapes, scattered petals, and the faint echo of wedding music still humming somewhere in the distance. But something felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Her breath caught in her throat as unease curled deep within her chest. Why was she here? This wasn't her dream. This wasn't her moment. It was her step-sister's wedding. So why was she the one waking up in this bridal chamber... as if she had been written into a story that was never hers? Her heart pounded as she turned toward the ornate mirror across the room. But the moment her gaze met her reflection, her world shattered. A strangled scream tore from her lips. The heavy door burst open. People rushed in, their faces draining of color, horror settling into every expression. But one pair of eyes didn't hold shock. One pair of eyes... burned with something far darker. Something that felt like anger... like possession... like a truth she didn't yet understand. Her trembling gaze fell back to the mirror. The black beaded mangalsutra around her neck- It wasn't hers. The vermilion boldly streaked across her hairline- It was never meant for her. It was meant for her step-sister. But now... it marked her. Aavya Verma. As if somewhere, in lines she never wrote, in a fate she never chose... his name had already been etched into hers. And in one cruel twist of destiny, she was bound in a marriage she never wanted-wrapped in traditions that now felt more like chains than blessings. The vermilion on her forehead wasn't love. It was a mark. Of betrayal. Of a decision made without her. Of a story rewritten without her consent. She was never meant to be the bride. But she became one. Not by choice... Not by love... But because somewhere... somehow... she had been written into him- his name in every line of a life she never chose.
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