49. WEDDING
AAROHI:
Today is wedding. I remind myself of that while the house wakes before sunrise. This wedding is Nirav ji's. We came to Mumbai for this, I don't forget that, even for a second. Still, when I open my eyes, the first thing I feel is not confusion.
It's calm. Because I wake up knowing exactly where I am. In a room that smells like fresh flowers and incense. In a bed that feels too big for one person. In a house that has already started humming with celebration.
I sit up slowly, careful of my hands, the mehendi is darker today, almost black, the name on my palm bold and unmistakable.
Veeransh. My cheeks warm immediately. I swing my feet off the bed and stand, stretching slightly.
Outside, I hear laughter, someone calling Suhana's name, someone else scolding a cousin for running inside.
The door opens. Suhana. "Bhabhi!" she practically bounces in. "You're awake? Today is going to be completely busy. It's the wedding!" I smile. "Yes... Suhana."
She grabs my hand, examining the mehendi. "Wow. It's dark. Bhai's name is shining so clearly." I try to pull my hand back. "Suhana..." She grins wickedly. "Don't worry. Bhai is going to be busy all day today. You're safe."
I don't know why my heart sinks a little at that. She drags me toward the washroom. "Come on. Go shower. The makeup aunty is about to arrive." The bathroom is already steaming when I enter. I shower slowly, letting warm water run over my shoulders, over my back, grounding me.
I close my eyes and breathe. Still, my heart doesn't listen. When I come out, wrapped in a towel, Suhana and Maa are already there with my saree laid out on the bed. A deep maroon silk. Heavy. Elegant.
Maa looks at me and smiles softly. "It's a wedding in our house today, beta. It will look nice." I nod. "Yes, Maa." As they help me dress, I catch my reflection in the mirror. The mangalsutra rests perfectly against my collarbone. Bangles fill my arms.
The saree pleats fall just right. Sindoor lines my maang, neat and bright. I look... like someone's wife. Not a bride. But not invisible either.
When the makeup is done and my hair is styled, Maa steps back and nods approvingly. "That's it," she says. "Perfect." I smile at her reflection. Downstairs, the house is transformed. Flowers everywhere.
Lights. Music. Guests arriving in waves, laughter, chatter, perfumes mixing in the air. The groom's family is buzzing with activity. Nirav ji looks nervous in his sherwani. Bua keeps adjusting his dupatta, scolding him, blessing him, all at once.
I stand slightly to the side, hands folded, watching. This is not my space to take. I am here to support. Someone touches my elbow gently. I turn.
Veeransh. He's dressed in an off-white kurta with a deep maroon stole, matching me without trying. His hair is neatly styled, jaw clean-shaven. He looks... composed. Different from the man who once scared me.
Different from the man who once hurt me. He looks at me for a second longer than necessary. "You're ready?" he asks. "Yes," I say softly. He nods. "Good."
Just that. But his eyes move, from my face, to my bangles, to my mehendi. He notices everything. Guests start arriving faster now. The mandap is set. The rituals begin.
I'm asked to help Bua with small things, holding plates, guiding guests, bringing water. I do everything carefully, quietly. Every now and then, I feel his gaze on me. Not possessive. Not angry.
Just... aware. During one ritual, I'm asked to sit beside Maa. Suhana squeezes in on my other side. "Bhabhi," she whispers, "you look nervous." I shake my head. "No."
She smirks. "It's the wedding atmosphere. Everyone feels like that." I glance toward the mandap again. The bride arrives. She's beautiful. Red lehenga. Heavy jewelry.
Eyes lowered, shy smile. For a brief, unexpected second, my chest tightens. Not with jealousy. With recognition. That could have been me if I had married normally like everyone else.
But it wasn't. And I don't know whether to feel relieved or sad. The rituals go on. Time moves strangely, fast and slow at once. At one point, I'm standing near a pillar, watching the bride and groom circle the fire.
I feel someone beside me. Veeransh again. "Tired?" he asks quietly. I shake my head. "No." He looks unconvinced.
"It's too crowded." "I'm fine," I repeat. He nods but stays there, slightly angled toward me, like a shield I didn't ask for. Someone calls him. He leaves.
I miss him immediately. That realization startles me. When the varmala happens, everyone cheers. Flowers are thrown. Laughter explodes. I clap softly, smiling.
This is happiness. Not mine. But still... beautiful. As the pheras begin, Maa comes towards me. By the time the wedding reaches its peak, my feet ache and my head feels heavy.
I move to the side again, finding a quiet corner. I don't want attention. I don't want questions. I just want a moment to breathe. That's when I feel it.
A presence. I don't look up this time. "Are you hiding here?" Veeransh's voice is low. I smile faintly. "No... I just got tired from standing for so long."
He stands beside me. No touching. No crowd between us. Just noise in the distance and silence here. Then, quietly, "You look very beautiful."
I finally look at him. His eyes are steady. Honest. My heart stumbles. "Thank you," I say.
For a moment, nothing else exists, not the wedding, not the guests, not Mumbai. Just us. Standing. Breathing. Not crossing a line.
Not needing to. And for the first time, I realize something else too. Even when it's not my wedding day... I am no longer just watching life happen from the side. I am standing inside it.
With him.
The house finally sleeps. Not completely, there are still faint sounds somewhere, distant laughter from a few guests who haven't left yet. But our room is quiet. Our world is quiet.
I close the door softly behind me and lean against it for a second, exhaling. My feet ache, my head feels heavy, my body is tired in that strange way that comes after a long emotional day. Everything inside me feels changed. He is already in the room.
Standing near the window, his sherwani half open, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy for the first time since morning. Veeransh. The lights are dim, only the bedside lamp on. Soft yellow. Warm.
He turns when he hears the door. Our eyes meet. For a second, neither of us says anything. No teasing. No rules.
No people watching. Just us. "How are you feeling?" he asks quietly. I shrug. "I'm tired." He nods, like he expected that. "Me too."
I move toward the bed and sit down slowly, adjusting my saree, rubbing my wrists where the bangles have left faint marks. He watches me. Not in that old way. Not sharp. Not guarded.
Just... looking. I can feel it. The way the air between us is different tonight. Not heavy with tension. Heavy with something unspoken.
Something waiting. I look up at him again. He is still standing there, one hand resting on the back of the chair, eyes fixed on me. "Today..." I start, then stop.
He tilts his head slightly. "What about today?" I smile faintly. "Today everything felt... too much." He exhales softly, like a quiet laugh without sound. "Weddings are like that."
I nod. "But... it felt different somehow." He takes a step closer. "In what way?" I don't know how to explain it without exposing myself. So I choose honesty.
"Like... I wasn't just watching it. I was part of it." His gaze softens. "You were always part of it, Aarohi." That one sentence does something to my chest.
He comes closer now. Slowly. Not rushing. I can hear my own heartbeat. He stops in front of me.
Close enough that I can smell his perfume. Warm. Subtle. I look up at him. And suddenly, I feel nervous. Not scared.
Not unsure. Just... aware. Aware of how close he is. Aware of how my body reacts to his presence now. Aware that this is no longer accidental.
He lifts his hand, hesitates for half a second, then gently touches my cheek. Just the tips of his fingers. My breath catches. "You're tired," he says softly. "And yet there's no sleep in your eyes."
I swallow. "Neither in yours." He smiles faintly. Then his fingers slide from my cheek to behind my ear, tucking a loose strand of hair back. The touch is slow.
Deliberate. My skin feels too sensitive. "Veeransh..." I whisper, not even knowing what I want to say. He leans down slightly, until our foreheads almost touch.
"Relax," he murmurs. "I'll be gentle." The words should calm me. Instead, they make my heart race. He moves closer. Not fast.
Not urgent. Just enough that I can feel his breath against my lips. For a second, we stay like that. Suspended. And then he kisses me.
Not like before. Not soft. Not hesitant. This kiss is deeper. Warmer. His lips press against mine with intention, like he has waited too long to do this properly.
I gasp softly, instinctively clutching the front of his sherwani. He responds immediately, one hand comes to my waist, steadying me, pulling me closer. The world disappears. There is no wedding.
No family. No Mumbai. Just the way his lips move against mine. Slow at first. Then slightly stronger.
As if he's testing how much I can handle. As if he's discovering me all over again. My body reacts before my mind does. My fingers tighten in his clothes. My breath becomes uneven.
I feel dizzy. Not from fear. From him. He senses it. His hand slides up my back, resting just below my shoulder blades, holding me firmly but carefully.
His other hand lifts, fingers brushing the edge of my saree's pallu. I tense slightly. He pulls back just enough to look at me. Eyes dark. Voice low.
"Trust me?" I nod. Always. He gently moves the pallu aside, freeing my shoulders, not exposing me, just clearing the way so he can kiss me properly.
His lips return to mine. This time deeper. Longer. More intense. I lose track of where I end and where he begins.
The kiss is not rushed. But it's not shy either. It's full. Like he's pouring everything he's been holding back into it. I feel his thumb brush my jaw.
His breath against my cheek. My heart feels like it's going to burst. When he finally pulls back, I'm breathless. My lips feel warm.
Slightly swollen. I touch them unconsciously. He notices. And smirks. A real smirk.
Not the arrogant one. The soft, satisfied one. "See?" he murmurs, voice teasing. "You look better like this."
I blink. "Like what?" He leans in again, but stops just before touching me. "Like you are right now." I realize what he means when I see my reflection in the mirror behind him.
My lips are red. Puffy. Eyes hazy. Cheeks flushed. I look... different.
Not innocent. Not untouched. I look like someone who has been kissed properly. By her husband.
I feel suddenly shy. I hide my face in his chest without thinking. Completely instinctive. He freezes for half a second. Then relaxes.
His arms come around me slowly, wrapping me in. One hand on my back. The other in my hair. Holding me.
Not claiming. Not controlling. Just... holding. I can feel his heartbeat. Steady. Strong.
Safe. "You okay?" he asks quietly. I nod against his chest. "Yes." My voice is small.
Soft. Real. He presses his chin lightly against my head. "You're shaking," he says. I smile slightly. "Because of you."
He chuckles under his breath. "I said I'd be gentle." "You were," I whisper. "But... intense too." He pulls back just enough to look at me.
Eyes warm now. Not dark. Not teasing. Just... affectionate. "You're not any less," he says softly.
I laugh shyly and hide my face again. He tightens his arms around me. We stay like that for a long time. No more kisses. No more movement.
Just warmth. Just closeness. Just the quiet realization that something has shifted permanently. Not in one dramatic moment.
But in hundreds of small ones. The way he kissed me without hesitation. The way I hid in his chest without fear. The way neither of us felt the need to pull away.
After a while, he guides me gently toward the bed. We lie down side by side. Still close. Still touching. Not restless.
Not awkward. I turn slightly toward him. He brushes a strand of hair off my face again. This time, the gesture feels natural.
Not like a beginning. Like a continuation. "Aarohi," he says softly. "Hm?" "You're tired. Go to sleep."
I nod. But I don't move. Instead, I shift closer and rest my head on his chest. He doesn't stop me.
His arm comes around me automatically. Protective. Familiar. I close my eyes. My lips still warm.
My heart still racing. My body still remembering the kiss. And for the first time in my life, I fall asleep not with fear...
But with the quiet certainty that I belong. Not to a house. Not to a name. Not to a marriage. But to the man whose heartbeat I am listening to right now.
The man who once scared me. And now holds me like this is exactly where I'm meant to be