Bride By Mistake

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Ritvika stood in front of the mirror in her room, gently adjusting the dupatta of her yellow suit, which perfectly matched the tiny outfit her two-year-old daughter Tara was wearing. They were twinning for a special occasion—her elder sister Nisha's haldi ceremony.

Yes, today was the big day. Nisha was getting married to none other than Mr. Vidyut Rajvansh, one of the country's top business tycoons. The wedding was scheduled for the evening, and the morning was reserved for the traditional haldi ritual.

As Ritvika brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a soft, eager voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Mumma, hum kab jaaenge?" (Mom, when will we go?)

Tara looked up at her with eyes sparkling like stars.

Ritvika smiled and lifted her daughter into her arms.

"Yes, my munchkin. Abhi chalte hai." (We're going now.)

She made her way toward the living room, holding Tara close. Just as she was about to step in, a sharp, cold voice rang out.

"Where are you thinking you're going?"

Ritvika froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Umm... Maa, it's Di's haldi, so we were going to apply some haldi..." she stammered, instinctively clutching Tara tighter in her arms.

Her mother, Deepali, stormed toward her, fury etched across her face. She grabbed Ritvika's arm roughly, her nails digging in.

"And who invited you there?" she snapped.

Ritvika winced in pain.

"You and your daughter are both bad omens. I don't want any manhoosiyat (bad luck) near my daughter's happiness," Deepali declared coldly.

"So you, and your so-called daughter, stay away from here."

Her voice was laced with venom as she continued,

"Remember how your in-laws sent you back? Even they realized you're of no use. You're nothing but a burden—a bad omen."

Ritvika stood frozen, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions rising inside her. For Tara's sake, she tried to stay strong, but a single tear betrayed her strength, slipping down her cheek. She wiped it away—harshly, almost angrily—as if trying to erase the pain itself.

Without saying a word, she turned around and walked away, retreating to her room with Tara in her arms.

Inside, she sat down heavily on the bed, holding Tara close as if the warmth of her daughter could shield her from the coldness she'd just faced.

"Mumma, kya hua?" (Mom, what happened?)

Tara's innocent voice broke the silence as she reached up to touch her mother's face.

Ritvika couldn't answer. Her throat tightened, her heart ached. Words refused to come.

Because in that moment, all the ghosts of her past came rushing back—uninvited, vivid, and painful. Every insult, every rejection, every wound reopened as if no time had passed at all.

"Mumma, chlo na." (Mom, let's go.)

Tara's voice rang out again, soft but insistent, pulling Ritvika out of her daze.

Ritvika turned to her daughter with a forced smile.

"Baccha, voh abhi na... mumma ko thoda kaam hai. Toh first let me finish that, then we'll go."

(Sweetheart, right now... mom has a little work. Let me finish it first, then we'll go.)

She set Tara gently on the bed, surrounding her with toys in an attempt to distract her. After making sure her daughter was occupied, Ritvika hurried into the washroom.

Once inside, she locked the door and leaned against it. Her body trembled as she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands.

The tears came fast, uncontrollable.

She cried silently, covering her mouth with both hands—desperate not to let Tara hear her broken sobs.

Her mother's cruel words echoed in her mind, each one like a blade. Her in-laws' cold rejection, the loneliness, the shame—it all came crashing back with full force.

Everything hurt.

And in that small, closed space, Ritvika let herself break—alone

In her broken silence, Ritvika could only muster one prayer to God now—her daughter's happiness.

But even that seemed too much to ask for.

Every single time, her family used her daughter—her innocent little Tara—as a weapon. A tool to taunt her, to break her spirit a little more each day. And Ritvika... She was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending, tired of hoping.

Half an hour passed—a stretch of time that felt like an eternity.

Wiping her face and steadying her breath, she finally stepped out of the washroom. Her eyes immediately went to the bed.

Tara had fallen asleep, her small arms wrapped around a teddy bear, her chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm.

There was a peacefulness on her daughter's face that brought fresh tears to Ritvika's eyes—but this time, she held them back.

Because if there was one thing she had to do, no matter what, it was to protect that peace.

***

Evening descended with a soft golden hue, and the entire house buzzed with excitement. Laughter echoed through the corridors, sounds of jewelry clinking, and hurried footsteps filled the air—the baraat was about to arrive.

Every corner was lit, every heart seemingly full of anticipation.

But in one quiet corner of the house, behind a closed door, everything remained still.

Ritvika sat silently in her room with Tara by her side.

They hadn't been invited. Not to the haldi, not to the mehendi, and not to the wedding. And today was no different.

Not wanting to endure more insults or piercing glances, Ritvika choose silence over humiliation. She had locked herself and Tara away, just as she had done during every other function.

It was easier that way—less painful, less degrading.

Tara, unaware of the unkind reasons behind their isolation, played quietly near her mother, while Ritvika stared blankly at the flickering lights visible through the window, trying to drown out the celebration happening without them.

Two hours passed.

Outside, the sounds of drums, laughter, and celebration swelled—it was time for the wedding. The baraat had arrived, and the ceremony was about to begin. The house was alive with chaos, joy, and hurried last-minute preparations.

But inside that quiet room, Ritvika remained still, sitting beside a peacefully sleeping Tara.

Suddenly, a commotion echoed from the main hall—loud voices, hurried footsteps, something that didn't sound like joy. Ritvika's brows furrowed, concern flickering in her eyes.

And then—a knock at the door.

Her breath caught.

Who could it be?

Careful not to disturb Tara, who was curled up with her teddy bear, Ritvika stood and quickly opened the door, her heartbeat rising without warning.

As Ritvika opened the door, her eyes widened.

Standing outside were her mother, Deepali, and father, Chirag—both furious, their expressions stormy with disappointment and something else she couldn't quite place.

Before she could say a word, Deepali pushed past her into the room.

Chirag followed, shutting the door behind them with a thud.

Ritvika blinked, stunned.

"Mujhe... mujhe kaise pata, maa." (I... I don't know, maa.)

Deepali's eyes blazed as she stepped closer, her voice rising with every word.

"Acha? Shaadi ke time pe behen gayab ho jaaye aur tujhe kuch nahi pata?" (Oh really? Your sister disappears right before her wedding and you know nothing?)

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Gayab?" ritvika whispered shockingly

"Haa, gayab"

"Main toh pehle hi keh rahi thi... tu aur teri manhoos aulaad hi bacha tha iss ghar mein zeher gholne ke liye." (I've always said it—you and your cursed child are the poison left in this house.)

Ritvika took a step back, stung, but said nothing. Her eyes welled up, but she refused to let them fall—not in front of them again.

"Ab agar kuch galat hua, toh main tujhe kabhi maaf nahi karungi," Deepali hissed.

(If anything goes wrong, I will never forgive you.)

"Maa, but what's my fault in this?" Ritvika asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

She wasn't defending herself—she was genuinely trying to understand.

Trying to understand what she had ever done to deserve this hatred.

Trying to understand why her mother's eyes held so much cruelty when they looked at her.

But Deepali didn't flinch. Her anger only deepened.

"Sab kuch! Jo kuch ho raha hai na, sab teri wajah se ho raha hai!"

(Everything! Everything that's happening is because of you!)

She stormed closer, her presence suffocating.

"Jab se iss ghar mein aayi hai, humara jeena haram kar diya hai tune!"

(Ever since you came into this house, you've made our lives miserable!)

Before Ritvika could react, Deepali grabbed her by the arms—roughly, tightly—her fingers digging into her skin.

"Mujhe toh lagta hai, tu ne hi bhaga diya use!"

(I think you're the one who made her run away!)

Ritvika's eyes widened.

"K-kya?" (W-What?)

"Haan! Khushi bardasht nahi hoti na tujhse? Kisi aur ko khush dekh nahi sakti!"

(Yes! You can't stand anyone else being happy, can you?)

Ritvika flinched as her mother's nails pressed harder into her arms. Her breath hitched, but she didn't fight back.

She couldn't.

She was used to this—used to being the scapegoat, the punching bag for everything that went wrong.

But something inside her—something faint, something still alive—was beginning to crack.

Chirag , who had remained silent till now, finally spoke—his tone low but heavy with disappointment.

"Zindagi bhar sirf dukh hi diya hai tune is ghar ko, Ritvika. Har jagah sirf badnami mili hai teri wajah se."

(You've brought nothing but sorrow to this family all your life, Ritvika. Everywhere we go, your name brings shame.)

Ritvika stood still, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The room that was once her small refuge now felt suffocating.

Behind her, Tara stirred in her sleep.

And in that moment, Ritvika wasn't hurt for herself.

She was terrified for what her daughter would grow up hearing—if this was the kind of world waiting for her.

Ritvika stood frozen, absorbing the cruel words like she always had. But something about today felt different—heavier. Before she could respond, Deepali pulled a folded piece of paper from her blouse and held it up in the air.

"Ab bata, kya karein hum?" (Now tell me, what should we do?) she demanded, waving the paper.

Ritvika stared at it.

"Yeh kya hai?" (What is that?)

Deepali threw the letter onto the bed, her face twisted with rage.

"Teri behen chhod ke bhaag gayi hai! Shaadi ke din humare naam ki laaj mitti mein mila ke bhaag gayi!"

(Your sister ran away! On the day of her wedding, she's destroyed all our honour!)

Ritvika's eyes widened in shock. She picked up the letter with trembling hands, reading the few lines scribbled in Nisha's handwriting.

And as realization dawned, her heart dropped.

Nisha was gone. She had chosen to leave this life behind.

She looked up at her parents, her voice quiet but clear:

"Humein shaadi cancel kar deni chahiye." (We should call off the wedding.)

The room fell deathly silent.

Then, a loud bang—Chirag slammed his hand against the nearby cupboard, making Tara stir in her sleep again.

"Pagal ho gayi hai kya?" he shouted. (Have you lost your mind?)

"Do you have any idea what this means for our reputation? For our family name?"

Deepali's eyes flared with disbelief. She let out a bitter, mocking laugh.

"Tu na kisi kaam ki nahi hai, yeh toh mujhe pehle se pata tha... par aaj toh kaam aa ja. Aaj toh meri izzat bacha le!"

(You're good for nothing—I've always known that... but for once, be of some use. Just today, save my dignity!)

"What do you mean?" Ritvika asked, her voice trembling with confusion and fear.

Deepali looked away coldly, while Chirag stepped forward, his expression hard and resolute.

"Now that your sister has run away... you're going to marry in her place," Chirag announced.

The words struck like a thunderclap.

Ritvika stared at him, frozen.

"W-what?" she whispered, barely able to breathe.

"Yes," Chirag said firmly.

"Vidyut's family doesn't know anything yet. If they find out, we'll lose our reputation. And you're at least good enough to sit as the bride."

The ground beneath her seemed to vanish.

She looked at her mother, hoping for some sign of empathy. A denial. A protest. Anything.

But Deepali didn't even blink.

"Get ready," Deepali said coldly. "You're getting married today."

And in that moment... Ritvika felt her world collapse all over again.

"No... no, never! What are you both even saying? How could you think like this?" Ritvika cried out, shaking her head again and again in disbelief.

Her legs felt weak, her heart pounding.

"I can't... I won't, Maa... please, no..." she mumbled, stumbling backward, her voice barely holding together.

But before she could say another word—

Chirag's hand landed hard across her cheek, the sound echoing through the room like a crack of thunder.

Ritvika gasped, stumbling as her hand instinctively flew to her face.

"That's enough!" he thundered. "You don't get to say no. You owe this family your life! And tonight, you'll repay it."

Tears welled up in Ritvika's eyes, but this time not from pain—

From helplessness. From betrayal. From the cruel reality that no matter how much she begged, no one was listening.

"NAHI KARUNGI MAI! BILKUL NAHI!" Ritvika screamed, her voice shaking the walls, echoing with rage and fear.

And in that very moment, Chirag's patience snapped.

With a roar, he slammed his fist into the glass table in the room—

CRASH!

Shards of glass scattered everywhere.

Little Tara woke up with a terrified scream, crying loudly, her tiny hands clutching the bedsheet.

"Tameez mein reh, Ritvika! Bhool mat, baap hoon tera!" Chirag thundered. (Stay in your limits, Ritvika! Don't forget, I'm your father!)

Ritvika stood frozen, her chest heaving, her body shaking.

Then came the blow that sucked the breath out of her soul.

Silence.

Ritvika felt her knees buckle. Her voice disappeared.

Tara's cries filled the room, but Ritvika... she had gone completely still.

They had finally broken her.

Ritvika dropped to the floor, crying like a child—shattered, scared, helpless.

She crawled toward her parents, folding her hands, her entire body trembling.

"Please maa... papa... main aapke pair padti hoon... please mujhe mat karo yeh sab," she begged through heavy sobs.

(Please maa... papa... I fall at your feet... please don't do this to me.)

Her voice broke again and again.

"Main nahi kar sakti yeh shaadi... main mar jaungi... sach mein mar jaungi..."

(I can't do this marriage... I'll die... I swear, I'll die...)

She clutched Deepali's feet, her face soaked in tears.

But Deepali kicked her hand away without blinking.

"Rona band kar. Hamare paas waqt nahi hai tere natak ke liye," Deepali snapped.

(Stop crying. We don't have time for your drama.)

Chirag's eyes were filled with rage. He stormed closer and leaned in, his voice low and dangerous.

"Tu nahi samajh rahi na? Agar shaadi se inkaar kiya... toh teri beti ke saath kya hoga tu soch bhi nahi sakti."

(You're still not getting it? If you say no to this marriage... you can't even imagine what I'll do to your daughter.)

Ritvika froze. Her breath hitched.

"Nahi papa... please... Tara ko kuch mat kariye... main jo chahoge wo karungi... bas use kuch mat kehna..." she whispered, breaking down completely.

(No papa... please... don't do anything to Tara... I'll do whatever you say... just don't touch her...)

She tried to stand but her knees buckled. She was shaking, trying to breathe, trying to protect her daughter.

"Aankh uthakar bhi nahi dekh paayegi tu use agar maine kuch kiya toh," Chirag growled.

(You won't even be able to look her in the eye if I do what I'm thinking.)

Ritvika's entire world spun. Her soul felt crushed under the weight of helplessness.

She dragged herself back near the bed, where Tara lay, scared and whimpering.

Holding Tara close, she whispered in her ear, her own tears falling onto the little girl's cheeks:

"Mumma kuch nhi hone degi beta shh..?"

(Mumma will never let anything happen to you)

And then... she looked at her parents one last time, her eyes empty.

"Theek hai... kar lo jo karna hai..."

(Fine... do whatever you want...)

Because they had taken everything from her.

Except Tara.

And she would do anything to keep her safe.