Chapter 11 A Night Before Fate
The lingering weight of their late-night conversation sat heavy on Ira’s mind as she woke up the next morning. She wasn’t sure if she should acknowledge it or pretend nothing had happened. Aarav, as expected, was his usual self—cold, distant, and unreadable. But there was something different. He didn’t look at her directly, yet she could feel his gaze flicker towards her, as if he was thinking about something but refusing to address it.
At breakfast, the Malhotra family gathered around the large dining table. Rajesh Malhotra, Aarav’s father, discussed business matters with his younger brother Hitesh, while the women of the house busied themselves with household affairs. Ira quietly took her seat, her hands wrapped around the edge of her dupatta. She had barely taken a bite when Sunita Malhotra, Aarav’s mother, turned towards her with a warm but firm gaze.
“Ira, tomorrow is Mahashivratri—your first one in this house. You and Aarav will do the puja together.”
The room fell into a stunned silence. Ira’s breath hitched as she instinctively glanced at Aarav. His fingers tightened around his coffee cup, his jaw clenching slightly. For a second, she thought he would refuse, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply exhaled and leaned back in his chair, his expression impassive.
“Maa, I don’t believe in these things,” Aarav finally said, his tone carrying a hint of defiance.
Sunita’s sharp eyes pinned him in place. “This is not about belief. It’s about family, tradition. You will do this.”
Aarav didn’t argue further, but Ira could feel the tension radiating from him. Tomorrow, they would stand before the divine as husband and wife. But tonight, they remained two strangers caught in a fate neither had chosen.
The day passed in a whirlwind of preparations. Ira was given full responsibility for the puja arrangements—decorating the home temple with fresh flowers, preparing the prasad, and organizing the family’s fast. While she worked tirelessly, Kabir, Aarav’s cousin, couldn’t help but tease him.
“Bhai, I never thought I’d see the day you’d do a puja with your wife.”
Aarav didn’t respond, but his sharp glare was enough to shut Kabir up.
As the evening set in, Ira was carrying a heavy plate of puja items when she suddenly lost her balance. Before she could fall, strong hands gripped her waist. Aarav’s firm hold steadied her, his fingers pressing against her skin through the fabric of her saree.
Their eyes met—his dark, unreadable gaze locking onto hers. For a moment, the world around them faded. Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, his expression carefully blank.
“Be careful,” he murmured, almost irritated.
Ira swallowed, nodding silently. But her heart raced for an entirely different reason.
Later that night, after everyone had retired to their rooms, Ira remained in the home temple, adjusting the last of the decorations. As she stepped outside, she noticed a faint glow on the balcony. Aarav stood there, cigarette in hand, staring into the distance.
For a moment, she considered walking away. But something inside her urged her forward.
She hesitated, her voice soft yet firm. "Please don’t smoke in the house… I don’t like the smell."
Aarav turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward her in the dim light. For a brief second, something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then, without a word, he brought the cigarette to his lips one last time before exhaling the smoke away from her and stubbing it out against the railing.
Ira didn’t expect him to listen, yet he had.
“You don’t have to do the puja if you don’t want to,” she said softly, standing a few steps behind him.
Aarav let out a sharp breath, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “You think I have a choice?”
Ira frowned, stepping closer. “It’s not a punishment.”
He turned to look at her then, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name. “For me, it is.”
The air between them was thick, charged with something unspoken. Ira didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Instead, she held his gaze for a moment longer before turning to leave.
“Don’t expect anything from tomorrow, Ira.”
She paused at the door but didn’t turn back. “I never do.”
The door closed behind her, but the weight of his words stayed with her.