Oberoi Mansion
A blissful morning bathed the Oberoi Mansion in golden light. Annika stood before the mirror, adorned in her bridal finery. Her hazel eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, shone with a quiet happiness – a happiness that felt, frankly, overwhelming. Today, her dream was coming true. Today, she would marry Shivaay. It wasn’s merely happiness; it felt like floating above the world, surrounded by a cloud of joy.
But the ghost of her past, the weight of her family, threatened to extinguish that light. She dismissed the thought with a frustrated shake of her head.
Nerves coiled within her, a familiar anxiety amplified by the significance of the day. She was, undeniably, terrified. Gauri was carefully adjusting the chunri, humming a soft tune.
“Anni,” she murmured, “You’re nervous. Utterly, hopelessly nervous.”
Annika’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Gauri, I’m nervous. Beyond nervous. Like, ‘run away to the Himalayas’ nervous.”
She mused, pacing restlessly.
Gauri chuckled softly. “Anu, calm down, darling. I’ve never seen you this anxious, and honestly, it’s a bit amusing.”
But Annika couldn’t quell the rising panic. She rose from her chair, clutching the crimson lehenga embroidered with gold zari, and began to pace. All she wanted was for the drama to end. For now, more than anything, she needed to see Shivaay, to feel his calm presence. He always knew how to soothe her anxieties, how to ground her when she felt like she was spiraling. He had been her anchor for the past three years.
“Abhi?” Gauri asked, her brow furrowed. “You’ll be at the mandap in minutes. Have patience.”
Annika’s frustration flared. “Patience went to fetch oil!” she declared. Without another word, she grabbed Gauri’s hand and practically dragged her towards Shivaay’s room, intending to slip past any watchful eyes.
Shivaay’s Room
Shivaay, meanwhile, was happily getting ready, anticipating Omkara’s arrival so they could walk to the mandap together.
A knock echoed on the door. He assumed it was Omkara and pulled the door open, ushering the person inside. But instead of Omkara, Annika stood there, her eyes blazing.
She’d let herself be pulled in, her face flushed with determination.
“What was that, Shivaay?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “Who pulls someone like this?”
Shivaay stared, convinced he was dreaming. He thought he was seeing Annika everywhere. His grandmother had forbidden them from seeing each other for two days. He had been seeing her everywhere, in every face.
Annika, startled by his expression, glanced in the mirror. She blushed hearing that he could see her everywhere like the same way she does. She pushed away those thoughts and shouted in his ear.
“Shivaay, I’m your Annika. And you see me everywhere, huh!”
She teased him and it truly worked. His cheeks turned bit pinkish.
“Okay. I came here since mujhe aap se baat karni hai,” she said in a very serious tone. Shivaay had thought to flirt with her, but he understood her seriousness and let her to speak.
“Shivaay, are you sure about this marriage?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Shivaay blinked, confusion clouding his features. “Why are you asking this?”
“Are you sure you won’t regret your decision? Am I not marrying you because you think I’m your responsibility, or some obligation?”
The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Annika was always a wreck. She was very good in taking smart and vest decisions for her company, but in personal life, she was a wreck.
Shivaay reached for her hands, his grip firm and reassuring. “Annika, why are you asking such questions? You know I’ll never regret this. I love you, jaan.”
Annika’s voice was soft, barely audible. “I love you too, Shivaay.” She confessed and embraced him and then continued.
“But still, it scares me. Are you sure you won’t resent me? A girl with family issues, a woman who’s lost her strength, an emotional wreck who might become a burden… Someone who fails to think of others when she’s hurt?”
Shivaay didn’t know what to say. He wanted to erase the shadows of her past, to shield her from the pain that haunted her.
Annika’s voice dropped to a whisper, laced with guilt. “Especially if she’s blamed for her sister’s death… and that blame is partially true?”
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken sorrow.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*586 words