"To the ones who loved too deeply and were torn apart,
To the hearts that still ache in silence,
This story is for you. The scars may never fade,
But perhaps, through pain, we learn to live again."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Today is the day I've been waiting for. A day that would bind my heart and soul to her forever. Yet, as I pace the room, the weight of anticipation gnaws at my nerves. Why did I agree to this extravagant wedding? A court marriage would've been simpler, quicker, and less nerve-wracking. But no, my foolish romanticism demanded grandeur.
"You're the one who insisted on a royal wedding, idiot," my inner voice mocked.
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. Sure, I wanted to give her a fairy tale, but right now, I'd trade it all to have her by my side, officially mine. The thought sent a thrill through my veins. Just then, the door creaked open, and in walked Vivek, his face etched with disapproval.
"Vivek, not now," I muttered, already dreading his usual tirade.
"Bhai, abhi bhi time hai. Please, yeh shaadi mat karo. Aapka hi bhala hoga."
(Translation: Brother, there's still time. Please don't go through with this wedding; it'll be better for you.)
His words stung, but not in the way he intended. I clenched my fists, holding back my frustration. "Enough! It's my wedding day, and I won't let you ruin my mood. If you can't support me, leave."
Vivek's shoulders slumped, his eyes pleading, but he said nothing further. He turned and left, his retreating footsteps echoing in the silence. I took a deep breath, straightened my sherwani, and headed downstairs.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The hall was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers casting intricate patterns on the marble floor. Guests chatted and laughed, their jewelry glinting under the soft glow. The air buzzed with excitement, but my eyes searched for only one person.
The pandit's droning voice dragged on, testing my patience. Each chant felt like an eternity, keeping me from my bride. My pulse quickened when Mrs. Sharma was finally instructed to bring her down.
And then, I saw her.
She descended the staircase gracefully, her lehenga shimmering like liquid gold. The intricate embroidery and delicate jewelry made her look like a queen that stole my breath.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She moved with poise, yet there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. I stepped forward, extending my hand. For a brief moment, she froze, her gaze locking with mine. Then, with a small, almost reluctant smile, she placed her hand in mine.
Her touch was warm, yet her fingers trembled. Was it nervousness? I squeezed her hand gently, offering silent reassurance.
"You look stunning," I whispered as we reached the mandap.
Something about her silence unsettled me, but I brushed it off. Nerves. It had to be nerves.
As the pheras commenced, I felt a strange mix of joy and unease. With each round around the sacred fire, I reassured myself she's here, with me, about to become mine. But her quiet compliance felt... off.
When the final round ended, the pandit handed me the mangalsutra. My heart raced as I reached for her veil. I was moments away from claiming her as mine forever.
But as the veil lifted, my world came crashing down.
The face beneath wasn't hers.
It wasn't Pooja.
My breath hitched, my vision blurring as disbelief coursed through me.
