She sat perched on a chair near the window, penning her thoughts in a diary.
“Today is my wedding. I am, perhaps, the luckiest bride in the world. This crimson lengha feels like a promise blooming in my heart. Even the lawn and garden of my mansion seem to blush with the joy of a bride… hahaha… I know I’m rambling, but every knot of worry unravels today. To marry my childhood friend, and through an arranged match nonetheless… I am fortunate indeed. And the groom arrives from London…”
She paused, about to continue writing, but sounds drifting from downstairs halted her hand. She capped her pen and placed the diary aside. Rising, she walked to the door, pressing her ear against the wood. She needed to hear clearly, but a bride in her wedding dress couldn’t simply descend the stairs uninvited.
Her father’s voice, raw with despair, reached her. “This… this can’t be happening. What will become of my daughter?”
Confusion tightened within her. What had happened?
Then her mother’s voice, laced with fear. “How did this happen?”
The tremor in her mother’s tone confirmed it: something was terribly wrong.
“It’s… his plane went down. Near the hills… and they haven’t found his body yet,” a man’s voice, unfamiliar yet authoritative, cut through the silence.
The realization struck her with the force of a physical blow. Her groom’s plane had crashed. He was gone.
She stumbled down the stairs, stopping on the last step.
“What happened to him?” Her voice trembled, tears welling in her eyes.
“Anika…” Her mother gasped, rushing forward.
Her parents reached for her, attempting to console her.
“Anika… Mahi’s plane crashed before landing,” Shivay said, approaching her.
Anika dissolved into hysterical sobs.
“She didn’t even enter the house and misfortune struck,” a guest murmured, sparking a wave of similar comments.
“I’m leaving. There will be no wedding,” another guest declared, their words like shards of glass.
Guests began to depart, their murmurs echoing Anika’s family’s grief.
“The marriage will happen,” Pinky, Shivay’s mother, declared, her voice cutting through the chaos. All eyes turned to her.
“Shivay’s marriage to Anika.”
A shockwave rippled through the room.
“What are you saying, Mother? How can I…” Before Shivay could finish, Anika interrupted.
“I can’t marry him.”
“Pinky is right. Shivay, today our family’s reputation, our respect, rests in your hands,” Shakti, Shivay’s father, stated.
Anika fled upstairs, her anklet jingling with each step, drawing attention to her desperate flight.
Shivay stood frozen, torn between his mother’s command and the grief of the bride whose groom was lost.
“I will marry Anika,” Shivay announced, his voice ringing with resolution.
“Only if Anika agrees. I will not force a woman into marriage,” he added, softening his tone, knowing her agreement was a distant hope.
Anika’s parents rushed to her room, attempting to reason with her. After a long, tearful discussion, she reluctantly agreed.
“Anika, you are not our only child. If you don’t marry, how will your sister? Think of others too,” her father pleaded.
A young woman in a navy blue lehnga and a young man in a kurta salwar entered the room.
“Di, don’t think about us,” the woman said, sitting beside Anika.
“Do what your heart desires,” the man added, joining her.
Anika smiled at them, then glanced at her parents.
“I will marry Shivay. Not because of Bhavya and Ranveer’s future, but because I refuse to be the bride left behind.”
She agreed, not out of love, but out of a sense of obligation. She would not allow their happiness to be shadowed by her grief.
Shivay and Anika married, appeasing everyone. The Oberoi family welcomed them with traditional rituals.
Later, Priyanka, Shivay’s sister, and Gauri, his sister-in-law, escorted Anika to Shivay’s room. They left her alone on the bed.
“This marriage, born from shattered fate, feels like a cruel joke. The girl who was giddy with happiness moments before her wedding is now weeping at the altar. The bride of fortune has become a bride of misfortune.” Tears streamed down her face, unchecked.
After more than two hours, Shivay entered. An awkward silence settled between them.
“I usually sleep poolside. You can sleep here,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, a softness she had never encountered before. It startled her. She barely knew him beyond the stories Mahi had shared.
“I married you for my brother and sister,” she confessed.
“Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything from you.”
She nodded and retreated to the bathroom, retrieving her casual clothes from her bag. Shivay changed as well.
She emerged, finding him pacing the room, frustration etched on his face. He grabbed a pillow, tossing it onto the floor before storming off to the poolside.
Both settled into their respective spaces: Anika on the bed, Shivay on the couch.
Shivay turned his gaze toward Anika. Her tear-stained cheeks, her vulnerability… he was mesmerized.
“How innocent,” he murmured, the words escaping him before he could catch them.
He moved to switch off the bedside lamp, but before his hand reached the switch, Anika’s eyes fluttered open. They met his gaze, a silent acknowledgement of their shared isolation.
Then… what was Shivay’s intention?