Neither asked the Stars

The courtyard had been transformed into something beyond the ordinary world-marigold garlands draped from pillar to pillar, their orange and gold catching torchlight in trembling waves. Jasmine strings fell from carved stone archways like white curtains, their fragrance rising with every breath of wind. Diyas lined every surface, burning in their thousands, until the courtyard seemed to float in firelight.

She walked slowly.

Her feet brushed the flower-strewn path. Her hands hung empty at her sides. The deep red silk of her bridal dress whispered around her, a color meant only for this moment. Drums spoke. Priests chanted. Sacred smoke rose toward a sky heavy with stars.

Everything was perfect.
And then she reached the mandap.
And she saw him.

Sharp, handsome, correct in every way-the face of a man from a good family, a name her father would speak of with pride.

A stranger.
He smiled at her.
And she felt nothing.

No-worse than nothing. A hollow, closing feeling. Like a door shutting on something still alive. Like a river being asked to stop.

The ceremony continued. No one noticed.
And beneath it all, one devastating thought rose clear and absolute:
This is not him.

She woke up, gasping. Darkness pressed around her, the lamps nearly burned out, the jasmine still in the silent air.

The dream faded.
But the feeling did not.
It stayed-quiet, unyielding, impossibly certain.

She closed her eyes. Opened them.
Still there.
She exhaled slowly into the dark
and made a decision.

She had every reason to let him go.
He gave her every reason to stay.
And when the truth finally came-
would it change everything she thought she knew about them?