𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐀 & 𝐄𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐇
𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛:-
She lay on the desolate ground, bleeding from her wounds. Her face, once radiant, was now covered with grime. Her lips, once rosy, were now bruised.
The perpetrator's handprints marked her body, a cruel remind...
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Teri banhon mein mili aisi raahat se muje ho gayi, jaan-a/e-jahaan, teri aadat si muje dekhun main jab tujko to tab mera din ye dhale deewaana kar raha hai tera rup sunaharaa
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"Why are you wearing black for your wedding function? You could have chosen any other color," Maa said when I reached the lawn, her voice tinged with concern as she tried to persuade me to pick something else.
Black has always been my color—it gives me an edge, perhaps even makes me appear intimidating, which is necessary for my work. It's also the color that reflects the state of my heart: dark and unyielding. I've worn more colors in the past two days than I have in my entire life, but today, this black sherwani feels perfect, even with its golden embroidery.
The sherwani's intricate gold patterns create an elegant contrast against the black, highlighting the regal design. The rich gold embroidery flows seamlessly across the fabric, adding sophistication and power to the ensemble. Paired with matching black trousers, the outfit exudes a commanding presence, its dark color echoing the intensity within me. The detailed craftsmanship of the sherwani, combined with its mysterious allure, makes it the ideal choice for the day ahead.
I glance into my mother's eyes, and unspoken words pass between us. She sighs deeply, placing her hands over my chest, brushing away the invisible dust she imagines is there. "I know I've already asked too much of you by arranging this marriage, but trust me—trust me, this will be the best decision you've ever made," she says, her voice soft yet resolute.
"Jaisa tum kaho, Maa," I say, kissing her forehead lightly. She quickly wipes away the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes and walks away to the other side.
[As you wish, Mom.]
I run my hands over my clothes, scanning the room, trying to catch a glimpse of everyone—or more precisely, the one I've been oddly sweet and attentive to, like feeding her fruit and fanning her when I notice sweat beads on her face. I still can't believe I did that. My heart has, in some small and inexplicable way, softened for her—or at least when she's around. And I can't afford to let that happen.
