Chapter 18

Today was her wedding day.

She was nervous as could be, having not slept at all the previous night. Her mind was consumed with thoughts about sharing the next year and a half with a man she neither liked nor loved.

She spent the entire day preoccupied with these thoughts. She thought about it while the servants rushed around, and as the caterers began preparing the menu. Her mind remained troubled until her mother insisted she sit in her room to get ready.

Her mother then left to prepare herself, while Siya began her preparations with the makeup artist, hairstylist, and dress designer. It took nearly three hours to get ready, and the crew left after receiving warm compliments from her.

She was about to leave the room when her phone pinged with a notification, catching her attention. Fetching the phone from the dressing table, she opened the notification bar, and her breath hitched when she saw the message on the screen.

unknown : After thinking a lot, I've come to a conclusion.

Her brows knitted in confusion; she couldn't understand why someone would text her and say they had been thinking a lot.

Three dots kept moving in a wave motion, indicating that whoever was sending the messages was still typing. So she waited, thinking she would block this person once they finished whatever they had to say.

A new message popped up on her screen, and as she began to read it, her breath hitched again.

unknown : You have 6 months of your happy life, and it's the longest break I'm giving you. After that, you'll be standing beside me— with me, in my world.

Her mind barely understood the meaning behind these words when another message came through.

unknown  : And that's final. For now, enjoy your break, sweetheart.

Her breath shortened as she read the messages once again. She wasn't scared but was now deep in thought, wondering why someone would want her to be with them so desperately and terrifyingly.

Tossing the phone on the bed, she walked toward the coffee table where a water bottle was placed. Removing the lid, she gulped down half the water, hurriedly.

Whoever was messaging her was no longer joking. She felt that the sender was not just telling her but commanding her— that she would have no choice after six months but to stand beside him, in his very own world.

But which world?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she continued to watch the wall clock. It was almost time for her baraat now; they would be arriving any minute. Her hands slowly began to clench the deep red lehenga, holding it tightly in her grip. She inhaled deeply and calmed her racing heart.

After a few minutes, the sound of dhol and other instruments reached her ears. She stood up and walked to the nearest window of the room. Looking down, she stared at the crowd—it was massive.

Several ladies danced elegantly in their heavy attire, and the men were throwing cash on the band players. But what caught her attention was his mother—her mother-in-law.

She saw her taking a significant amount of money and rotating it over her son's head with a soft smile before handing it to one of the drummers.

A knock startled her. Taking a few steps back from the window, she turned to see the person who had just entered the room.

It was her father.

He smiled warmly at her deep red lehenga. A few beats passed before her father opened his arms to hug her.

Without hesitation, she walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She didn't realize she was crying until she tasted the bitterness on her tongue.

Her father's hand caressed her head, making sure not to ruin her hairstyle. Her hands clutched his kurta tightly from behind, afraid to let go.

"I'm here if you ever want to come back, okay?" her father finally broke the silence between them. "And I'm here if you ever want to talk," he added, making her cry even more.

her relationship with her father was complicated, on one side they would be talking like old friends, and on the other they rarely talk to each other.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before her father broke the hug and gently held her shoulders. The moisture from her tears sat heavily on her lashes, smudging her mascara slightly.

Suddenly, an unannounced hiccup broke their silence, causing a few tears to cascade down her cheeks. Her father chuckled softly, bringing his right hand to gently wipe away the moisture from her lashes with the pad of his thumb.

"I'll miss you," she murmured through her sobs, hugging her father once more. This time, she held on a little more firmly, savoring the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"Not more than me, beta," he replied, kissing the crown of her head.

Suddenly, the weight of the crimson veil felt heavy on her head. Maybe she didn't want to leave, not just yet. Perhaps she wanted to spend a little more time with her father, to open up to him this time.

Maybe.

Maybe she should have fixed her slightly smudged mascara, so she wouldn't scare away the children in the wedding hall or give reporters a chance to capture unflattering photos of her.

Pulling back from the hug, they talked for a few minutes. This time, she opened up to him—just a little. Then a knock startled them. It was Avni, who informed them that it was time to bring the bride downstairs.

𖤐

Walking down the aisle, she was awestruck with surprise. The sight before her seemed unreal. It was beyond the word beautiful as she stared at it. Her entire surroundings were adorned in a white, red, and gold theme. The off-white decorative lights complemented the ambiance perfectly.

Her steps came to a halt when she looked at her soon-to-be husband, standing on the stage, probably waiting for her. She took a step forward, followed by another, her eyes remaining fixed on him until she reached the stage.

Her mind replayed his face over and over. His smooth, warm-toned skin, his chiseled cheekbones accentuated by a well-defined jawline, his perfect nose, and full, naturally tinted lips—all combined with his eyes. Those intense black orbs seemed to be the most captivating feature of his.

He was wearing an off-white sherwani with golden embroidery and a matching off-white sehra on his head. He looked incredibly handsome.

Once she reached the stage, they stayed there for a few moments. Avni and Ahaan then brought garlands and stood beside each other. She glanced at them and felt a different kind of atmosphere—no talking, no smiling, not even looking at each other.

Her attention shifted back to the front as her mother instructed her to start the garland exchange ceremony. Swallowing a lump of nervousness, she took the garland from Avni, gripping it gently from the top to avoid breaking the petals of red roses.

Turning her head, she faced him and a nervous smile escaped her. Seeing her smile, he smiled back—or rather, he couldn't stop himself from smiling at her.

Taking a step forward, she held up the garland, but her heavy lehenga made it difficult for her to stand on her toes, complicating the task of placing the garland over him.

Seeing her struggle, a chuckle erupted from Veer's lips as he shook his head gently. He stepped forward, lowering his head so she could place the garland easily. She did so with an amused expression.

A wave of "aww"s filled the surroundings, followed by some hooting. Then, Veer took the other garland from Ahaan's grip, but as soon as he took it, she saw Ahaan rushing towards her. In the next moment, her feet were no longer on the ground, and a shriek escaped her mouth.

Ahaan lifted her effortlessly. Her mouth was covered as she placed both palms over it. Meanwhile, Veer stood frozen, his lips slightly parted.

"Isn't it unfair that you're helping her when it should've been me?" Veer mocked, looking at Ahaan in disbelief that his own brother had betrayed him.

She looked down at Ahaan and found him grinning like a mischievous child before scrunching his nose in a judging way. "Jesus, you're tall as—never mind, you're tall, so I'm just helping my bhabhi, okay?" Ahaan retorted, while all the elders burst into laughter, including her.

Veer shook his head before coming forward. Keeping his eyes on her, he stretched his arms and placed the garland around her in a smooth motion.

Everyone around her clapped. She looked around and caught a glimpse of her parents smiling adorably at her. Her heart swelled.

"Put her down," Veer said, catching her attention. She realized that Ahaan was still holding her. Muttering an "okay," Ahaan finally set her on her feet. She stumbled slightly in her lehenga, but Veer caught her elbow.

"Thanks," she whispered with a small smile as she leaned over and then straightened back into her previous position. Veer nodded, mirroring her smile.

After the varmala, they were told to sit beside the priest. A few minutes later, Veer's chacha was called to light the fire in the mandap. He did so quickly and then sat behind the groom's side.

Her father stepped forward for the kanyadaan. His face reflected some sadness, but he managed it perfectly, smiling almost in pain.

He never really talked to her about marriage; maybe he never wanted it in the first place. But as time went by, her father understood that she needed someone by her side to comfort her, console her, care for her, and heal her.

She wasn't broken in his eyes, as she often tried to show. But he was a father; he could sense when his child was happy, angry, or sad—and it hurt him to see her sad.

Placing his daughter's hand in his son-in-law's hand, he squeezed it lightly before letting go and stepping back to his previous place beside his wife, who gently rubbed the back of his hand, offering reassurance.

After the kanyadaan, the priest instructed them to stand up to take the seven sacred rounds—the phere—around the holy fire.

Veer stood up, but Siya struggled. At that moment, she cursed the person who made the lehenga. She was about to call for help when she felt a gentle, not-so-firm grip on her arm. She knew it was Veer, who helped her stand up properly without even looking at him.

Her eyes were fixed on the holy fire. It was happening—she was getting married to someone she wasn't in love with, or maybe never would be because her love had broken her, and she had no desire to heal it.

Meanwhile, Veer's black eyes were fixed on her, as if she was his whole world. God! She was his whole world, a world he never wanted to lose. He once asked himself if it was love he felt for her.

Maybe he got his answer now, or perhaps he realized it when he saw her walking down toward the mandap—that he was in love with her, that he had always been in love with her.

Their attention was snatched back when the priest instructed them to start taking the rounds around the mandap, after tying Siya's pallu with Veer's scarf.

Siya clutched her lehenga as she felt him holding her free hand. She looked up to see him, but he had already taken a step forward, making her follow him.

The priest began chanting the mantras while offering ghee and other items into the holy fire.

The first vow was to pray to God for provision and nourishment.

The second vow was for strength and togetherness in every situation.

Then they took the third vow for prosperity. In the next vow, they promised to support their families.

After the fourth vow, the priest instructed Siya to lead the rest of the pheras.

By the end of the fifth round, they took the vow for progeny.

In the sixth round, they walked around the fire and took the vow for health.

By the end of the seventh and final round, her breath seemed to catch in her throat as they completed the last phera with the vow of love and friendship.

They stood in their places as flowers showered over them. Veer looked at her to see if she was okay. A smile formed on his lips as he saw her trying to remove the rose petals from her head. Ignoring everyone else, he helped her.

After that, they both sat down, and Siya's mother brought the mangalsutra and sindoor. She kneeled before them, placing the plate down, and then stepped back so Avni could come forward to hold her maang tika.

Filling half of the coin with vermilion, Veer lifted his gaze to look at her. His breath seemed to harden as he applied the vermilion to her hair parting. Then he smiled, gazing at the beautiful sight before him.

Siya closed her eyes, afraid to open them. Suddenly, she felt a soft touch on her nose, and her eyes fluttered open to see Veer rubbing his pinky finger over her nose. He then took the mangalsutra and leaned in to tie it around her neck.

His warm breath on her neck sent a shiver down her spine, but her eyes remained on him. Watching him tie the mangalsutra around her neck made her cheeks warm, and she closed her eyes briefly before his voice broke the silence.

"Breathe, Siya," he said. Her eyes flew open, and he added with a smile and then suddenly she felt a kiss on her cheek, "And welcome to my life, Mrs. Oberoi." It was then she realized she had been holding her breath.

After that, they both stood up, intertwining their hands. The priest officially declared them husband and wife, and then they turned around to receive blessings from their elders.

𖤐

The vidaai was the most difficult part of the wedding for her. When she saw her sister and mother crying, she broke down and hugged them as tightly as she could. She focused solely on them as she held them close.

Her father had initially stayed away, but in the end, he came out and saw his daughter clutching his kurta, crying into his chest.

The ride to her new home was silent, with no one speaking. She and her new husband sat quietly in the car, but his hand rested on hers, offering reassurance. It provided some comfort.

When they arrived, her mother-in-law was already at the front door, surrounded by other family members, holding a pooja ki thali. She first performed the ritual to ward off the evil eye and then applied a tika to her forehead.

Next, she placed a Kalash full of rice on the floor and instructed Siya to gently kick it with her right foot. Siya followed her instructions carefully and then dipped her feet in kumkum water before stepping further into the house.

Throughout the ritual, Veer held her hand, keeping pace with her as they took small steps. He watched her intently.

Siya stopped crying once they were in the car and used the handkerchief Veer had slid toward her to clean her tear-streaked face.

Thirty minutes later, she found herself in Veer's room—their room. As soon as they entered, Veer went into the bathroom, and the sound of running water filled the silence. She sat at the end of the bed, lost in thought.

She's married now.

Unknowingly, a tear cascaded down her cheek. She didn't understand why she was crying—whether it was because of the emotional weight of the vidaai or because she did something she was afraid and terrified before.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth on her cheek. When she lifted her hand to touch her right cheek, she felt something soft. Lifting her teary eyes, she saw him—her husband—kneeling in front of her, holding a warm towel against her cheeks.

Swallowing a gulp, "What are you doing?" she asked in a low whisper, her hand wrapped around his wrist as if seeking support.

He looked at her for a moment, still struggling to believe that she was now his wife and that she was here in his room. But seeing her cry was the last thing he wanted.

"Nothing special," he replied calmly. He gently rubbed the warm towel under her puffed eyes, his strokes light and soothing. Her hand remained on his wrist, moving with each gentle motion he made.

She observed him closely; he had already changed into comfortable clothes—a black t-shirt and black sweatpants.

"Then why are you doing this if it's nothing special?" she asked, her hand falling into her lap.

"Because it's hurting both," he said, taking the towel in his other hand and beginning to stroke her other cheek. It hurt him deeply to see her crying; it felt as though someone had driven shards of glass into his heart.

It was the same feeling he had experienced years ago.

She looked at him in disbelief, a mix of amusement and confusion in her voice. "What?"

"It's hurting both. Your cheeks and eyes," he replied, placing the towel beside her. He then gently rubbed her wet lashes with the pad of his thumb, wiping away the moisture.

He'll make sure she never cries from now.