Finding Yourself

Chapter 1

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Aakriti woke up to the warm sunlight, a familiar and comforting sight. She stretched, the soft cotton of her nightgown twisting around her body as she tried to push away the anxieties of the previous day.

The plush carpet felt soft beneath her bare feet as she sat up, taking in her room—a sanctuary of creamy yellow walls and a vibrant bedspread that was a testament to her love of color and life. The simple, carved furniture was a warm, constant presence.
But as she dressed, the ease of the morning faded. Her mind drifted to the hushed voices she had overheard the night before, a conversation that had stolen her peace.

"We have to find her a good husband," her father had said, his voice low and serious.

"Someone who will take care of her."

Her mother's voice, always a gentle counterpoint, had responded, "But she wants to work. She's so passionate about event planning."

"That's a nice hobby," her father had scoffed. "But a career can wait. First, we need to secure her future. We can't let her waste her time on such frivolous pursuits."

The words had cut deep. Her dream of organizing beautiful weddings and events—a future she had imagined with such clarity—was dismissed as a "frivolous pursuit."

Aakriti felt a familiar surge of anger and helplessness. How could they not see her? How could they not understand that this wasn't a phase but a part of who she was?

As she made her way downstairs, the aroma of her mother's fresh chai and the sizzle of parathas on the griddle filled the air. She found her mother in the kitchen, a comforting, familiar sight.

"Good morning, beta," her mother said, her smile gentle and warm. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, Mummy," Aakriti replied, forcing a smile in return, the lie feeling heavy on her tongue.

Her father joined them at the table, a newspaper shielding his face from her view as they ate. The silence was thick, filled with the unspoken tension from the night before. Aakriti felt her stomach clench, the food turning to ash in her mouth.

Later, as she helped her mother with the dishes, Aakriti's thoughts raced with a newfound sense of clarity. There was no room for rebellion or escape. They were her family, and this was their way. They weren't being malicious; they genuinely believed this was what was best for her.

She looked at her mother's kind, worried eyes and saw a reflection of her own confusion and fear. It was a choice between her individual dreams and the comfort of family expectations. The fight was gone, replaced by a weary resignation.

Maybe, she thought, they were right. Maybe this arranged marriage would bring her a kind of happiness she couldn't understand yet. Maybe it would lead to a different kind of fulfillment. Maybe. But she decided that she would talk to her father first.

●●●●●

Later that day, Aakriti decided she had to talk to her father, not just listen. She found him in his room, going through some paperwork. She took a deep breath before she entered.

"Papa," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

"Can we talk about what you said this morning?"

He looked up from his papers, his expression a mix of caution and authority. "Yes, what is it?"

"I've been thinking about what you and Mummy discussed," she said, choosing her words carefully. "About finding me a match. I know you both want what's best for me, but I have my own plans. I want to work, to be an event planner. It's not a hobby, Papa. it's my passion."