Kyra sat silently in her dark room, tears cascading from the path it had created, down her pale face. Her pyjama legs were folded before her and her arms were wrapped around her white pillow, her chin tucked into it. Vihaan hated her and much more than that, he despised the thought of being her husband. But why? What had she done to earn his hatred? Was it something she said? No, she shook her head. It couldn't be. She had barely spoken all night and when she did, it was because he had demanded it.
Would he then hate her for no apparent reason? She hugged her pillow tighter and sighed. The last thing he said to her was that she'd never be his wife. What did it mean? Would he turn his back on her so close to the wedding? Should she be worried? Perhaps she needed to inform her parents of this before Vihaan got the chance to execute his plans?
“Then what, Kyra? Papa will blame you for it all and Maa, well, she'll be disappointed. They'd think you pushed him away and there will be nothing you say that will convince them otherwise.”
Knowing there was nothing else to do but wait and see Vihaan's final decision, she released a soft sigh and sank further into her pillow.
****
“Stay still, Kyra!” Poojah called from her spot on the marbled floor before Kyra. She was busy painting the henna on Kyra's feet, having spent three hours painting her hands.
“I'm sorry, Poojah.” Kyra apologized for the umpteenth time that morning. She was been so anxious, she didn't realize her feet were tapping. Thoughts of Vihaan —his eyes filled with fury— had plagued her mind all night and all morning. She thought of him disappointing her, and running off on the day of their wedding. She thought of telling her mother of her fears and Vihaan's words to her last night. She was worried and confused.
“Kyra, are you okay?” Poojah rose to her feet, the look of defeat, reflecting in her brown eyes. “Your foot won't stop twitching. I can only conclude by this that you are worried?” Her eyes searched Kyra's.
Could she tell Poojah? Would she understand? But she couldn't keep this troubling thought to herself, the weight of her burden was pulling her down. She knew she could trust Poojah, having spent so many years with her —they were practically sister. Poojah was three years older but she never acted her age.
Kyra sighed then nodded.
“It's normal to be worried,” She placed her hand on Kyra's shoulder. “but I'm sure everything will be alright.”
“How would you know?” Tears filled Kyra's eyes. “He said he doesn't want to marry me.” Her tears were creating a path down her face, most likely ruining her make up.
Poojah leaned down a little and dabbed her face with a handkerchief. “Maybe he's confused.” She whispered.
Kyra shook her head violently, tears spilling down her face and wetting her red sari. “He looked so angry, Poojah. Like the thought of being drowned seemed more appealing than the thought of marrying me. And now, I fear I may not be able to tell father...”
“Of course not! You mustn't Kyra. You must be strong. Marriage isn't always easy but you two will fall in love soon enough.”
Kyra wanted desperately to believe Poojah. Oh, how she longed to take those words and give them life. But she knew, more than anything in this world, that Vihaan would never fall in love with her. She nodded, deciding she would be strong, no matter what.
****
Anja wrapped her trembling arms around her daughter, fighting desperately to keep her stubborn tears from falling. But no matter how hard she tried, they made their way down her face. She didn't want Kyra to see her like this but she couldn't help it, she couldn't help the fact that she was broken that her daughter was leaving home and going to be with a man she knew nothing about.
Anja could only hope for the best but look how her own marriage turned out. Twenty five years and the man still didn't love her. They lived like strangers —no, hostile strangers— and she was helpless to do anything about it. When Kyra was born, she took solace in her. Kyra was the best thing that came of her marriage into the Jindal family and as she wrapped her arms around her, she knew she was saying goodbye to her hope and her strength.
The marriage ceremony had lasted too short a time. Kyra's father had managed to squeeze what was supposed to last for three days, into one day. Anja couldn't help but think he had done so to punish her. He knew what his decision would do to her, he knew it would rip her heart to pieces, depriving her of what little time she thought she had to spend with her daughter. But he didn't care. He never cared and she should have known not to expect the least bit of kindness from him.
“Maa,” Kyra pulled away, brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She ran her thumb over Anja's cheeks and forced a smile. “this is a good thing.”
“I know, Kyra, these are happy tears.” She sighed. “Remember what I taught you?” She waited for Kyra's nod. She pulled her into her embrace yet again and whispered, “You don't get to let him hurt you.” She could feel Kyra tense in her arms, knowing the implications of those words. Was she giving her daughter the permission to fight back? She didn't know. But what she knew was the fact that she wouldn't stand for another man to hit her child. “Be strong, stronger than me.”
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