𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 21+

• 𝐭 𝐰 𝐞 𝐧 𝐭 𝐲 𝐟 𝐨 𝐮 𝐫 •

𝐌 𝐞 𝐡 𝐞 𝐫

The weight of the engagement ring on my finger felt like a shackle binding me to a destiny I never chose.

As I stood there, amidst the cacophony of celebrations, I couldn't help but feel the iron grip of fate tightening around me. I was now engaged to Aarav Rathore, the heir of the family that had been our rivals for generations.

I forced a smile, my gaze sweeping over the sea of familiar faces-my family, friends, all reveling in what they believed to be a joyous union. Their laughter and cheers echoed hollowly in my ears. Aarav's relatives, too, shared in their enjoyment a stark contrast to the storm brewing within me.

But then, my eyes locked onto a solitary figure-a woman draped in a pristine white sari, her gaze piercing through the crowd, fixated on me with an unreadable expression.

I couldn't recognize her, yet there was something unsettlingly familiar about the intensity of her stare.

I held her gaze until curiosity got the better of me. I turned to Aarav, who was blissfully unaware, basking in the adulation of his kin. A gentle nudge with my elbow caught his attention.

"Who's she?" I whispered, nodding subtly towards the mysterious woman.

Aarav leaned closer, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't understand who you're talking about."

"That woman in the white sari," I insisted, a sense of urgency creeping into my voice.

He scanned the crowd, "I don't see anyone in a white sari," he said, his frown deepening.

"Arey... that-" I turned back, my words trailing off as I faced the spot where she had stood. It was empty. No trace of the woman in white. No hint that she had ever been there.

"Wait, what?" The words escaped me in a breathless whisper, my mind reeling.

Was that a figment of my imagination?

The questions spun in my head, unanswered, as the celebrations around me faded into a distant blur.

"She was right there!" I said, unsettled. But Aarav shook his head, claiming to see no one.

Doubt crept in-was I imagining things in my stressed state? But I could have sworn the mystery woman had been real, watching me with some unknown purpose.

I glanced around furtively, half expecting to catch another glimpse. But there was no sign of the white-clad stranger amongst the festive crowds.

A soothing hand on my arm drew my focus back to Aarav, concern etched on his face. "Arora, chill... It must've been a distant relative, probably,"

I waved off his comment with a weak smile, not wanting to sound like a bride losing her nerves on the big day.

Still, as celebrations carried on, I couldn't shake the uncanny feeling that someone was watching my every move far more closely than I knew.

Descending from the dais, I felt the soft fabric of my sari caress the ground behind me. It was a deliberate choice, a symbol of grace and tradition, yet it seemed to draw more attention than I had anticipated.

Suddenly, gentle tug at my Pallu made me pause and glance back. There was Aarav, crouched slightly, the end of my Pallu in his grasp.

(Pallu - the loose end of a sari - generally draped over shoulder/s - is integral in sari drape and design.)

"Uh, you're literally sweeping the floor with your... Pallu," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I managed a small smile, my heart still racing from the day's events. "Oh okay, thanks," I replied, trying to maintain a veil of composure. "But it's supposed to be like that."