The weight of every dream and hope crushed me as I circled the holy fire, tears tracing a path down my cheeks as he adorned me with the sacred thread and vermilion. With each ritual, it felt like the death knell of my aspirations.
No longer Vivek Malhotra's burdened daughter, I was now Avinash Pratap Singh's queen, the unexpected bride he never anticipated marrying – his fiancé's sister.
This place was never meant for me; it belonged to my sister. I suffocated under the weight of responsibilities thrust upon me overnight. If only she hadn't left a letter, if only she had faced her suitor in person, perhaps I wouldn't be entangled in this mess.
What about my dreams? What if he despises me? Surely, I pale in comparison to my sister – not as beautiful, not as slender, not as tall. I'm not the woman he envisioned marrying; I'm not what he deserves. What if he refuses to accept me as his wife?
My thoughts spiraled, each worry birthing a fresh tear. Lost in my turmoil, I found myself seated beside him in the car, bound for the palace of Pratapgarh – my new prison.
"Congratulations, Avni," I said, oblivious to the storm raging within me.
_______________________________
The evening before the wedding:
The baraat had already arrived at the mansion, with the groom and his family downstairs.
It was a private wedding, with only a select few relatives from both sides of the family invited. The reason? The Rajmata, the groom's mother, Rudrani Devi, strongly believed in warding off the evil eye.
That's why my father, despite being one of the biggest businessmen around, didn't invite anyone else - not because he didn't want to, but because of the relentless presence of the press and paparazzi.
As I prepared the aarti thal for the varmala ceremony as it was a ritual that only sister's do, a bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Sister," I murmured to myself. Technically, I was her sister, but she never saw me as one. To her, I was nothing more than a servant, or perhaps even less than that. She harbored resentment toward me her entire life.
Yet, I didn't mind her harsh treatment. I owed this family so much, and enduring everything thrown my way was a small price to pay.
I couldn't take it anymore. This is my final year of college, and once I graduate, I'll be free from all this. I'll work hard, earn my own living, and pay back every penny, freeing myself from this burden.
"Wow, this thali looks so beautiful, Sulochana Di. Look at our Avni, she's so talented," Nalani Bua exclaimed, admiring the aarti thal, while addressing Sulochana Bua.
"Yeah, sure," Sulochana Bua replied with a roll of her eyes. Nalani Bua is the only one in this house who cares about me. I'm always thankful to her. She was the one who persuaded my father to let me pursue higher education in biotech. She's amazing, and I love her a lot.
"What's the point of all this when God didn't bless her with looks or charm?" she scoffed at me.
"Di..." Nalani Bua attempted to intervene, but she didn't stop, continuing her hurtful tirade.
"What did I say wrong? If it wasn't about looks, then her fiancé wouldn't have broken off the engagement, even when Bhaiya offered him a large sum of money," she said, her words piercing through me.
Her taunts tore at my heart. It's nothing new; perhaps she enjoys it.
"Avni is not like my Subha; she's so pretty and beautiful and elegant, and now she's marrying the king of Pratapgarh," she proudly declared, as if she had won a gold medal in a debate competition.
I had to step away. I knew if I stayed there, she would talk about it all day long; it's her favorite pastime.
I rushed downstairs, feeling a sense of unease in the air. My father was on his knees, and the groom, King Avivansh Pratap Singh, sat on the nearest couch, his eyes glaring red, as if they could set the world ablaze.
Rajmata sat elegantly on a single couch, her leg crossed, while others stood in silence. Tears streamed down my father's face, and he clasped his hands together as I ran to him, desperate for answers.
"Papa, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I asked, my voice trembling. But he couldn't speak, and my eyes searched for clues, landing on my stepmother, who held a piece of paper in her shaking hand.
Taking the paper from her, I read my sister Subha's words, and my world shattered beneath me.
"I'm sorry, Avivansh, but I can't marry you. I have dreams that can't be fulfilled if I marry you, so I've decided to run away. This is the least I could do. Your not-to-be bride, Subha."
How could she? How could she do this to Papa? Blood inside me was boiling I saw my Father apologizing profusely to the groom's family, while I stood there, feeling helpless.
"Forgive us, Rajmata. We realize the harm we've caused you. We'll do anything to make amends. We trusted our blood too much, and it's caused us the deepest wound," Papa pleaded.
"There's a way to make this right," Rajmata said, rising from her seat and approaching me.
I couldn't meet her eyes, but she lifted my chin, forcing me to look at her.
"Ek tareeka hai is nuksaan ki bharpai," she declared, pointing at me.
"What do you mean?" Papa asked, his voice desperate.
"This girl will now become my daughter-in-law, my son's wife," Rajmata announced, shocking everyone present. My heart felt like it stopped.
"This couldn't be happening she can't take my daughter's place I would never let that happen". My father's wife stood up, protesting, but Rajmata silenced her.
"Your daughter has run away from her wedding, Mrs. Malhotra. This is what fate has decided," she said firmly.
In that moment, everything changed. Just when I had dared to dream of freedom, God had other plans. I felt like a bird escaping one cage, only to find itself trapped in another.
A moment later, I found myself seated next to a completely unknown man in the Mandap, someone I wasn't even supposed to marry in the first place. Yet here I was, chanting mantras with him.
He was a man I had never imagined anything beyond being my sister's fiancé. And now, he was my husband—a man I knew nothing about, despite his evident anger issues.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as we took each oath for our married life.
There's a saying that you can't choose your parents or any relation by birth, but you can choose your life partner. However, for me, it was never about choices. It was always my ill fate that forced me to walk through eggshells.
Now, I was no longer Avni Malhotra; I was Avni Avinash Pratap Singh, and that too without my consent, trapped in a marriage of convenience with a person who didn't even know me.
______________________________
The car finally stopped as we reached the grand gates of Pratapgarh. He smoothly opened his door and stepped out, leaving me waiting for someone to open the gate. The heavy lehenga they had forced me into made it difficult to move or even breathe properly.
Finally, the gate opened, and a man, slightly older than me, extended his hand towards me. I grasped it as I stepped out of the car, and he greeted me, "Welcome, Bhabhi..."
He must be Avivansh's younger brother, "Hi Bhabhi I am Yuvan, or you can call me Yuvi," as he introduced himself with a warm smile. I returned the smile and nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and awe as he led me inside the palace.
As we entered, I caught my first real glimpse of the palace, and it was truly mesmerizing. Standing at the entrance, surrounded by family members, Avivansh's mother performed the aarti for us, welcoming us into their home.
Hours passed as we went through the rituals, and despite being bound by the gathbandhan for five hours, Avivansh hadn't spared me a single glance.
"Kick the rice kalash and enter with your right leg," his aunty instructed me with a smile.
As I raised my right leg to kick the kalash, I suddenly lost my balance and began to trip. But just as I was about to fall, a strong hand gripped my waist, steadying me.
"Careful," a deep voice resonated in my ears. It was him, holding me and preventing me from falling. I looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time, and was captivated by his stunning green eyes. In that moment, I felt like I was getting lost in them.
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