The Twisted Knots

20.

"LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE FINALLY FOUND THEIR CO-PILOT for the 'forever' flight. Prepare for a lifetime of compromise, my dear friend! You better start practicing saying 'yes, dear' with enthusiasm."

Riya's playful jab prompted an eye roll from me. "Yash is different; he's genuinely nice."

"Defending your fiancé already, huh?" Riya nudged my shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I silently wished for a magical tape to shut her teasing remarks. She had been at it all day as I prepared for my engagement, and I couldn't escape her good-natured banter.

As I sat in anticipation, the door creaked open, and there she was—my mother, her eyes filled with tears of sheer happiness. She looked me up and down, a proud smile playing on her lips. Slowly, she made her way towards me, and without a word, she delicately took kajal from her eyes and applied it with utmost love at the back of my neck.

"You look breathtaking, my dear," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Absolutely beautiful."

Feeling a mix of joy and curiosity, I turned to the mirror to witness the transformation. The reflection staring back at me was a vision of elegance. The pastel pink saree draped gracefully around me, the delicate fabric complementing my complexion. My hair in a low bun, framing my face with a touch of natural allure. The minimal makeup accentuated my features, allowing my genuine radiance to shine through.

Taking a moment to absorb the sight, I couldn't help but agree with my mother's sentiment. Indeed, I looked gorgeous—a blend of tradition and modernity.

The door swung open abruptly, drawing everyone's attention. A staff member entered, carrying an enormous bouquet of roses – a breathtaking burst of vibrant colors and sweet fragrance.

Riya, quick to react, exclaimed, "Yash is incredibly romantic! Look at this grand gesture!"

My mother, seizing the opportunity, chimed in, "Riya, come outside for a moment, dear. I need your help with something."

As Riya followed my mother outside, leaving me alone with the stunning bouquet, I couldn't help but admire the thoughtful gesture from Yash.

The door quietly closed behind as Yash entered the room, his eyes immediately locking onto me.

Yash stood before me in a pastel white kurta for our engagement, a vision of timeless elegance. The crisp fabric clung to him in all the right places, accentuating his well-defined features. His neatly tailored kurta exuded sophistication, a canvas for the simplicity that made him look utterly charming.

The pastel hue complemented his skin tone, adding a subtle radiance to his appearance. Every fold in the fabric seemed to tell a story of careful consideration, each detail contributing to the overall refinement of his attire.

His appearance was a study in neatness – the kurta immaculately pressed, the collar sharp, and the sleeves falling just right.

A brief silence hung in the air as he stood there, his gaze roaming appreciatively from top to bottom. Feeling a playful surge of excitement, I decided to give him a better view of my outfit.

With a spontaneous twirl, I showcased the details of my attire, and a warm smile spread across Yash's face. He seemed captivated by the sight before him.

As he continued to admire, I couldn't help but break the silence, "Well, how do I look?"

Yash's eyes met mine, and he replied with genuine admiration, "Absolutely stunning. You take my breath away."

Yash embraced me tenderly, whispering, "I'm so lucky to have you. I can't wait for you to become my wife." His warm hand cupped my face, our eyes locking in a shared intensity.

His gaze lingered on my lips, a magnetic pull that needed no words. In an instant, his lips met mine in a passionate kiss, a fusion of longing and desire. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the sweet surrender of that moment.

As Yash pulled away, a content smile played on my lips. I noticed my smudged lipstick on his, creating a playful connection between us.

Expressing my gratitude, I turned to Yash with a smile and said, "Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Yash."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Flowers? Which flowers?" he questioned.

I motioned towards the exquisite bouquet on the table, expecting him to understand, but his confusion lingered. Suddenly, his eyes darkened, a storm brewing beneath the surface. In a voice that carried a sense of foreboding, he asked, "Who sent these?"

Stammering, I insisted, "But Yash, you must have sent these flowers." His firm denial echoed in the room, and he began scrutinizing the bouquet, searching for any clue. "There's no note," he remarked with growing concern.

In a sudden shift of emotion, Yash's frustration erupted, and without warning, he seized the bouquet, hurling it to the floor. Roses scattered in a chaotic dance, catching me off guard. I jumped in surprise, a gasp escaping my lips as petals floated around us.

Confusion etched across my face as I witnessed an unusual anger in Yash. "Yash, what's wrong?" I asked, the worry evident in my voice. Instead of a direct answer, he muttered, "Who sent you these?" His fingers aggressively tapped on his phone, a palpable tension building in the room.

Fear seized me in that moment, and tears welled up uncontrollably. Yash, sensing my distress, swiftly made his way towards me. Without a word, he enveloped me in a comforting hug, and I allowed myself to cry, makeup smudging and all. "I'm so sorry, Tara," he murmured, the sincerity in his voice attempting to soothe my escalating anxiety.

Between sobs, I managed to say, "You're scaring me, Yash."

Breaking the embrace, Yash looked into my eyes, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "Look at me, Tara," he urged. However, my gaze lingered on the scattered flowers, avoiding his intense stare. He gently took my chin in his hand, guiding my eyes to meet his. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm just concerned," he confessed, his touch a blend of apology and genuine worry.

Yash's eyes softened as he cupped my face, concern etched across his features. "Tara, I need you to understand," he began, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "The Singhania family has its share of enemies, and our moments of joy, like our engagement, can be targeted. I'm just worried about your safety."

I looked into his eyes, recognizing the genuine concern reflected in them. "Yash, I understand," I said, a somber understanding settling in. "I appreciate that you're looking out for me and us. It's just overwhelming to see you so angry."

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I'm sorry for scaring you. It's not what I intended. I just want us to be safe and happy."

I nodded, a shared understanding bridging the gap between us. "I know, Yash. I appreciate your concern, and I'm grateful to have someone who cares so deeply."

Yash's eyes softened, and a gentle smile played on his lips as he reached out, brushing away a stray tear that had escaped my eyes. "Tara, come on, smile," he urged, his voice tender. "It's a big day for both of us."

I managed a small smile, touched by his comforting gesture. "I know, Yash. It's just overwhelming," I admitted.

He sighed, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of affection and concern. "You don't understand the effect you have on me," he confessed. "Seeing you in tears, it breaks me. I never want to be the reason behind your tears."