⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟐˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The door creaked open again after some time.
Two women from the household staff entered, silently carrying a red bridal lehenga, heavy with embroidery and gold.
Ritvika sat on the edge of the bed, completely still. Her arms were wrapped around Tara, who had cried herself to sleep.
Her tear-streaked face was blank now. No anger. No fight. Just a hollow silence.
One of the women hesitantly spoke, "Madam ne kaha hai aapko tayaar kar dein..."
(Madam said we have to get you ready...)
Ritvika didn't reply. She didn't even blink.
The other woman softly took Tara from her arms and placed her on the bed. Ritvika didn't resist. She just sat there, lifeless.
The lehenga was placed before her.
Red.
Bright.
Heavy.
Cruel.
One woman pulled her gently to her feet while the other started removing her plain clothes. Ritvika didn't fight back. Her hands hung by her side, like a doll.
They dressed her in silence.
Layer after layer—petticoat, blouse, dupatta, jewellery—until she was no longer Ritvika.
She was a bride now.
A puppet.
Her hair was brushed and tied. Bangles slid onto her wrists. Sindoor box placed nearby.
Every touch felt like another nail in her coffin.
She looked at herself in the mirror for the first time.
The reflection stared back.
Eyes swollen. Lips trembling. Face pale. But dressed like a queen.
And then, slowly, her eyes shifted to Tara, still sleeping. That tiny heartbeat was her only reason to stand.
A single tear escaped her eye and fell on the red of her dupatta.
Her lips moved in silence—
"Forgive me, Tara... I'm doing this for you."
Outside, wedding drums started echoing in the distance.
Inside, a girl buried her soul.
The wedding venue sparkled under golden lights, filled with the scent of roses and marigolds. Guests were laughing, music played in the background, and the entire Rajvansh family was dressed in glory.
To everyone watching—it was a perfect wedding.
A beautiful bride. A powerful groom. A flawless match.
But behind the veil, Ritvika sat with dead eyes, hands clenched tightly in her lap. She could hear everything—the priest's chants, the drums, the claps—but her mind was blank. Her soul is already numb.
Across from her, Vidyut Rajvansh sat with the same calm posture, his expression unreadable. He didn't even glance at her properly. Just went through the motions.
The priest's voice rang out clearly:
"Place the bride's hand in the groom's hand."
Chirag stepped forward and did exactly that—pressed Ritvika's cold hand into Vidyut's.
She didn't move.
She didn't speak.
She just sat... like her body didn't belong to her anymore.
"Now begin the pheras," the priest announced.
They both stood. Ritvika followed as if in a trance, her lehenga dragging behind her. With each round around the sacred fire, a piece of her seemed to disappear.
Vows were spoken aloud. Promises were made.
She said nothing.
She was never asked.
"Now, apply sindoor to the bride's forehead."
Vidyut picked up the silver box and filled her hair parting with red. The sindoor fell into place—bright, powerful, terrifying.
"Tie the mangalsutra."
He placed the black-beaded necklace around her neck.
It felt like a noose.
No one clapped unusually. No one pitied her.
Because to the world—this was Nisha.
The perfect bride.
The lucky girl.
Nothing was wrong.
But inside, Ritvika was screaming silently.
Because everything... Everything was wrong.
And she had no way out.
The wedding was done.
Ritvika and Vidyut stood up quietly and took blessings from the elders. But as the formalities ended, Ritvika felt her breath hitch—her face growing pale, her heart beating painfully in her chest.
And then came the moment she feared the most.
"Now let us see our daughter-in-law's face. I'm so excited!" Manisha, Vidyut's mother, said brightly.
The Kapoors—Chirag and Deepali—stood frozen. Their faces had lost all colour. Panic rippled beneath their fake smiles.
All the guests had already left. Only the Rajvansh and Kapoor families remained. The atmosphere was light, unaware of the storm about to hit.
They all moved into one of the private rooms for the post-wedding custom.
"Okay now, let's see our daughter-in-law," Parul, Vidyut's aunt, said eagerly.
Manisha stepped forward and gently lifted Ritvika's veil.
Ritvika's entire body went still. Her eyes shut tightly. Her hands trembled.
And the moment her face was revealed—
Gasps. Silence. Confusion.
Everyone from the Rajvansh side stared in disbelief.
"Who is... she?" Hridhaan, Vidyut's younger cousin, asked, blinking rapidly.
"What is she doing here? And where is Nisha?" Manisha's voice turned cold with sudden tension.
"Who are you?" Parul asked, stepping closer. She grabbed Ritvika's arm.
"And where is Nisha?"
"Chirag ji, Deepali ji... yeh sab kya hai? Aur Nisha kahaan hai?" Manisha demanded, her confusion now turning into anger.
(What is all this? And where is Nisha?)
Chirag stepped forward, lowering his gaze, folding his hands in guilt.
"Manisha ji... Lakshay bhaisaab... hume maaf kar dijiye..." he whispered.
(Please forgive us...)
"Woh... Nisha... she ran away from the wedding... so—"
"So what?" Lakshay, Vidyut's father, interrupted sharply.
"Nisha ran away, so you just made someone else sit in her place?"
"Nahi, nahi bhaisaab! Aapki aur humari izzat ka sawal tha!" Chirag tried to explain.
(No, no brother! It was about your and our family's honour!)
"Izzat?" Gaurav, Vidyut's uncle, stepped forward. His voice was furious.
"Aap kis izzat ki baat kar rahe hai? Aapne apne fayde ke liye kisi bhi ladki ki shaadi humare bete se karwa di!"
(You talk about honour after marrying off just anyone to our son?)
Chirag's face crumbled with desperation.
"Nahi! Nahi, Gaurav ji... aap galat samajh rahe hai... yeh aise waise koi nahi hai... yeh... yeh humari doosri beti hai... Ritvika."
(No, no Gaurav ji... you're misunderstanding... she's not just anyone... she's... she's our second daughter... Ritvika.)
A wave of absolute silence passed through the room.
A daughter.
Their daughter.
Manisha took a step back in disbelief.
Parul's hand dropped from Ritvika's arm.
"You never told us Nisha had a sister..." parul whispered.
Ritvika didn't raise her eyes.
Her identity was now known—
But the truth behind her presence... still buried under fear.
"Please forgive us... please... we didn't have any other option, so we just—" Chirag whispered, folding his hands with fake sincerity, his voice laced with carefully crafted regret.
Deepali, catching on, stepped forward and joined in the performance.
"Yes, we didn't mean to deceive anyone. We were helpless..." she said, her eyes downcast, yet void of any real remorse.
But their act didn't last long.
"Enough!" Lakshay snapped, his voice sharp and furious.
"We didn't expect this from either of you. First, we didn't even know that Nisha had a sister. And now... this? You replaced the bride without telling us?"
Manisha took a step forward, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"We visited your house so many times. Not even once did we see this girl—Ritvika..."
There was a moment of silence. The tension was suffocating.
Chirag, trying to salvage the last pieces of their already crumbling lie, stammered,
"A-Actually... she wasn't home during those visits. She was... busy with something. She... she returned only today... just before the wedding."
The room fell silent again.
Everyone stared at him. Some in disbelief. Some in quiet fury.
Lakshay's jaw clenched. Parul folded her arms tightly. Hridhaan looked at Ritvika again, as if trying to make sense of this entire mess.
And Ritvika... stood still. Not a word. Not a blink. Her head lowered in shame she hadn't earned.
All of them were still trying to make sense of the chaos—an arranged marriage gone wrong, a bride no one knew, a lie no one expected.
Tension hung heavy in the air when suddenly...
A soft, tiny voice echoed from the hallway.
"Mumma..."
Everyone turned toward the voice—every single head snapping in that direction, confused, startled.
And there she was.
A little girl, no more than two years old, with big teary eyes and an angelic face. Her hair slightly tousled from sleep, her little feet stumbling forward...
She ran—straight toward Ritvika.
"Mumma..." she called again, her voice cracking as she hugged Ritvika's leg tightly, tears streaming down her soft cheeks.
The room went dead silent.
No one blinked. No one moved.
Ritvika bent down instinctively, scooping Tara into her arms as the little one sobbed into her neck.
She tried to calm her down, rubbing her back, whispering something only Tara could hear.
But the damage had already been done.
A wave of fresh shock swept through the Rajvansh family.
"Mumma?" Parul whispered, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"Is... is this girl calling her mother?" Manisha said, completely stunned.
"You... you have a child?" Lakshay asked, voice flat, eyes fixed on Ritvika.
And for the first time since the wedding... all eyes weren't just on Ritvika—they were questioning, doubting, accusing.
And Ritvika?
She stood frozen, her daughter trembling in her arms, her silence screaming louder than any confession ever could.
Deepali and Chirag's faces twisted—equal parts panic and rage—as their eyes fell on Tara.
And above them all, standing silent and unreadable, was Vidyut.
He hadn't spoken a single word since the chaos began. His face was blank—no emotion, no reaction. As if nothing could touch him. Or maybe... no one could understand what was going on in his mind.
Trying to defuse the growing tension, Deepali finally blurted,
"Umm... voh... she's Ritvika's daughter."
All heads turned sharply in her direction.
Manisha frowned, completely caught off guard.
"Daughter? But... how? What do you mean?"
Before Ritvika could speak, Lakshay stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Enough. Everyone be quiet now. And you, Mr. Chirag Kapoor—care to explain this drama? What exactly have you and your family done?"
Chirag's throat went dry, but he forced out his rehearsed lie.
"T-Tara... Tara is Ritvika's daughter. Her husband... he passed away before she gave birth. She's a widow. Since then, she's been living with us."
A deafening silence followed.
The Rajvansh family stood stunned. This wasn't just a replaced bride... Ritvika was a widow. A mother. And they had unknowingly married their son to her.
Manisha took a step back, her hand covering her mouth in shock. Parul stared in disbelief. Even Hridhaan looked like the ground had shifted beneath him.
Trying to salvage their control again, Deepali quickly added,
"But you don't need to worry. If you don't want Tara, that's completely fine. We'll take her back with us."
Her words struck Ritvika like a sword.
She turned sharply, her eyes wide with fear.
"No..." she whispered, her voice cracking. She shook her head again and again, her arms clutching Tara tightly.
"No, please... don't take her away. Please... she's all I have. Please..."
Tears streamed down her face as her body trembled.
Just then, a powerful voice broke through the tension.
"Tara is now our granddaughter."
"Aur hum apni poti ko khud se dur karne ka haq kisi ko nahi dete."
(And no one has the right to take our granddaughter away from us.)
It was Manisha.
Her voice was fierce filled with both fire and finality.
All heads turned to her in shock.
"Yes, this marriage didn't happen the way it should have," she said firmly, looking directly at Chirag and Deepali. "But it's done. And now that it's done—no matter what—Ritvika is our daughter-in-law. And Tara is our blood now."
Ritvika looked at her in disbelief.
Her legs almost gave out, but her heart—broken and fragile—felt something for the first time since the wedding...
A flicker of hope.
And then it happened.
Vidyut, without uttering a single word, turned around and stormed out of the room.
His face showed nothing—no anger, no pain, not even disappointment. Just... emptiness.
No one dared to stop him.
No one even moved.
The silence he left behind was heavier than any outburst could've been.
Sensing the tension, and not wanting to create more drama, the rest of the Rajvansh family slowly began to exit the room, one by one, their expressions unreadable—some shocked, some thoughtful, some simply unwilling to look back.
Only Manisha and Aarush, Vidyut's younger brother, stayed back.
Manisha turned to Ritvika, her voice gentle but firm.
"Ritvika... it's time to go home. Our home."
She paused, her gaze falling on the child in Ritvika's arms.
"Aarush will drop you."
With that, Manisha walked out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence once again.
Ritvika stood frozen, clutching Tara tightly in her arms, her heart thundering in her chest.
Home?
Where was that now?
And was there even a place for her in it?
She looked down at her daughter, sleeping peacefully against her shoulder—completely unaware of the storm that had just begun.
Ritvika didn't move.
She didn't know what to do anymore
"Umm... bhabhi, chale?" (Shall we go now?)
Ritvika snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Aarush's voice.
He stepped closer and extended his hands toward Tara.
"Aap Tara ko mujhe de dijiye," (Give Tara to me) he said politely.
Ritvika's body stiffened instantly.
Why was he asking to take Tara?
Panic began rising in her chest.
Sensing her unease, Aarush quickly clarified with a small smile,
"I mean... yeh lehenga bahut heavy hai, aapko chalne mein problem hogi. Toh... aap Tara ko mujhe de dijiye."
(This lehenga is really heavy, it might be hard for you to walk. So... let me carry Tara.)
Ritvika still looked unsure, her fingers tightening slightly around Tara's little frame. But eventually, she gave in and handed her daughter to Aarush—hesitantly, protectively.
They both started walking toward the car.
As they reached the Rajvansh Villa, Ritvika's heart began pounding again.
Aarush carefully took Tara in his arms once more and turned toward the entrance with Ritvika walking silently beside him.
As they neared the main gate, Ritvika's steps slowed, her breath caught in her throat.
There—the entire Rajvansh family stood waiting.
Manisha held a beautiful aarti ki thaal, her eyes soft yet unreadable.
Hridhaan stood beside her, holding a plate filled with aalta (red color liquid).
Parul, Vidyut's aunt, stood nearby with a white cloth and a kalash (metal pot) filled with rice.
It was a traditional griha pravesh (homecoming) ritual... but nothing about this moment felt traditional to Ritvika.
Her legs felt heavier than the lehenga she wore.
Aarush had just stepped toward the door with Tara in his arms when Manisha raised her hand gently.
"Ruko."
(Wait.)
He paused instantly, and so did Ritvika.
Manisha walked forward, her eyes moist but kind.
"Let me do aarti for my both Lakshmi."
(Let me do the aarti for both my goddesses of fortune.)
Her voice was soft—so full of affection, so unexpected.
Ritvika froze.
She had expected rejection. Cold shoulders. Maybe even silence.
But not this...
Not love.
Not acceptance.
Not being called Lakshmi—a symbol of fortune.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched Manisha gently rotate the aarti ki thaal in front of both her and Tara.
Then, Manisha carefully placed the silver kalash before Ritvika's feet.
"Ab apne daahine pair se isse dheere se dhakka do, beta."
(Now gently push this kalash forward with your right foot, dear.)
Ritvika obeyed, her heart thudding as the pot rolled forward—a soft clink echoing in the hallway.
Then came the next ritual.
Manisha gestured toward the plate filled with red liquid (kumkum mixed with water) and the white cloth spread across the floor.
"Ab isme pair daal kar kapde par apne kadam ke nishaan chhodo."
(Now step into this and leave your footprints on the cloth.)
Ritvika stepped into the red-colored liquid, then walked across the white cloth, leaving bright crimson footprints—the sign of a new bride entering her new home.
Everything felt surreal.
Until the moment everyone froze.
Lakshay, Vidyut's father, stepped forward.
Without a word, he pulled out a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket.
Then, to everyone's surprise, he knelt down.
He dipped Tara's tiny feet gently into the red liquid... and then pressed her feet on the cloth—leaving her little red footprints imprinted next to Ritvika's.
But he didn't stop there.
He lifted the same handkerchief... and took Tara's footprints again on it—carefully, reverently.
The room fell utterly silent.
No one had expected this. Not even Ritvika.
He looked at the handkerchief with deep emotion and softly murmured,
"Ye meri pehli poti ka pehla kadam hai is ghar mein."
(This is the first step of my first granddaughter into this house.)
And at that moment, Ritvika broke.
Her knees buckled slightly, her breath shaking.
Because for the first time in years... someone had called her child theirs.
━━━━━━?? ━━━━━━
For next update: Complete 200 votes on the book.
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