𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

• 𝐭 𝐰 𝐞 𝐧 𝐭 𝐲 𝐟 𝐢 𝐯 𝐞 •

𝐌 𝐞 𝐡 𝐞 𝐫

The evening sun was setting in a glow of gold and crimson as I sat alone in my room, lost in thought. My eyes drifted down to my hands, decorated with the intricate patterns of mehendi.

(Mehendi: the art or practice of applying temporary tattoos, especially as part of a bride or groom's for a wedding.)

As I traced the mehndi designs absentmindedly, my fingers brushed over a subtle name hidden within the leaves-Aarav.

A soft sigh escaped me as reality set in once more. By this time tomorrow, I am going to be marry the heir of our family's greatest rivals.

The previous night's ceremony replayed in my mind. The laughter and music had been a distant echo to my silent conscience. I had been a statue among the people, my gaze fixed on a point beyond the walls of festivity, until my father's gentle command broke through. "Smile more, Meher," he had said, his voice a mixture of concern and command.

Since then, I had offered weak smiles, a mechanical curve of the lips to anyone who glanced my way or greeted me. Each smile felt like a betrayal to my true feelings, a mask that grew heavier with each passing moment.

As the evening wore on, the weight of the future pressed down on me. I was about to marry Aarav Rathore-the man who was both a stranger and a rival, the man whose name now lay etched in the canvas of my skin.

"Di, are you listening?" Rani's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, pulling me back to the silent room where I sat, surrounded by the trappings of a bride.

(Short form of 'didi')

"Huh?" I blinked, trying to focus on Rani's concerned face as she fiddled with the clasp of the heavy gold necklace that now felt like a shackle around my neck.

"I asked if it's too tight?" Rani's fingers paused in their task, her eyes searching mine for an answer. She gestured towards the necklace, its stones glinting mockingly under the lights. "Does this feel uncomfortable?" she asked, her hands resuming their work, pulling the lace tighter.

The jewellery dug into my skin, almost as if it's a physical manifestation of the tonight's pressure.

"Okay... maybe a bit loose?" I requested, giving her a small, apologetic smile. My voice barely above a whisper.

Rani stopped and looked at me, her expression a noticing the turmoil I felt within. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a worry that I knew all too well.

I met her gaze, the weight of the impending ceremony weighting down on me. The necklace, the mehendi, the whispers of the guests-they all merged into a siren's call that I couldn't escape.

I was about to marry a Rathore, the heir of our rival company, and the reality of it was as constricting as the necklace on my throat.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, each embroidered thread of my lehenga feeling like a chain weighing me down. The heaviness of the fabric, the pull of the pins in my hair, the layers of 'light' makeup caked onto my face-it all compounded into a physical burden that mirrored the emotional toll of the day. Even keeping my eyes open took extreme effort. All I wanted in that moment was to curl up and sleep for a blissful century.

(A long skirt worn by women in South Asia that is often elaborately embroidered with beads, shisha mirrors, or other ornaments.)

I wanted the simple comfort of my bed, to close my eyes and sink into the oblivion of sleep.

At the back of my mind-that when I opened my eyes from this endless sleep, this would be nothing more than a figment of my imagination, a bad dream to be forgotten with the morning light.