Ch7Ties of Fate The Wedding #2
she was breathtaking. Every little detail from the subtle blush on her cheeks to the gentle arch of her eyebrows struck me.
I had never seen any woman so stunning, so enchanting.
There was something in her presence, an aura of innocence mixed with quiet strength, that made it impossible for me to look away.
I took a pinch of sindoor and carefully filled her maang. A bit of it fell onto her nose, and she closed her eyes instinctively. Even this small act, the simple ritual, felt intimate, almost electrifying.
Now, her forehead was adorned with the vermillion that carried my name.
The priest announced,
“Now the groom shall tie the mangalsutra around the bride’s neck.”
I took the sacred thread of black beads and gold, fastening it gently around Rivanya’s slender neck.
Just then, a single tear slipped from her eyes and fell onto my hand.
I froze. I knew this marriage had not happened with her happiness, but seeing that tear stirred something in me something I could not name, something that pulled me toward her despite every wall I had built inside myself.
The priest’s voice rose again, firm yet calm,
“With this, the wedding is complete. Now, take blessings from your elders and pray for a prosperous married life.”
We both stood, bowing before the elders. I touched everyone’s feet except my father’s I had no desire for his blessing. Yet Rivanya bent, touching his feet with trembling hands, and when I looked at her again, she was already rising with quiet dignity. Something in me stilled.
I stepped forward and declared,
“We should leave now. The wedding is done, and I have important work to attend to.”
Naresh Bedi her father tried to stop me, his eyes pleading, but I refused him without hesitation.
A short while later, my entire family gathered outside, standing beside the convoy of cars.
Rivanya appeared at last, but not like a bride I had seen before.
No tears, no emotional farewells, no rituals of bidaai.
She walked out as if in a trance, hollow-eyed, and without a word slipped into the car.
Not a single person from her family followed to send her off.
Something had happened, clearly but what, I did not know.
I signaled for the others to follow and stepped into the car myself, sitting beside her. The driver glanced at me for instructions, and I nodded. The engine roared to life.
Inside the car, silence swallowed us whole.
Rivanya sat rigid, staring at nothing, lost in her own storm of thoughts.
Her hands rested lifelessly in her lap, her expression blank.
She looked more like a shadow than a bride.
I didn’t speak either. Instead, I turned toward the window, watching the city lights blur against the glass.
So much had happened in a single day. The woman I was supposed to marry had run away, and instead, I found myself tied to her stepsister.
Rivanya. Even her name was still new on my tongue.
I wasn’t sure if this marriage had been unjust to her or not.
After all, she had said yes though clearly not for herself, but for her family.
Whatever the truth, I knew I could only give her one thing my hatred. My heart had no place for love, not anymore. This marriage had happened only because of my mother’s last letter, her final wish. Everyone in the family knew well that I was incapable of giving happiness to any woman.
And I knew why they had hurried this wedding. They believed that if I didn’t marry before my twenty-ninth birthday, I would die. But what life was I living anyway? Even breathing felt like a punishment sometimes. I was alive, yes, but hollow bereft of joy, of emotions, of meaning.
Still, I promised myself this once my mother’s last letter reached me, I would free her. I would give Rivanya the divorce she deserved, and we both would be liberated.
These thoughts weighed heavy when suddenly, I felt something on my shoulder. I turned and saw her. Somewhere in the midst of her exhaustion, Rivanya had drifted into sleep, her head falling gently against me.
She looked heartbreakingly innocent.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, with faint shadows of exhaustion beneath them. The traces of dried tears still marked her cheeks, glistening faintly in the pale moonlight filtering through the window. Her lips parted slightly as she slept, her breathing uneven, yet calm compared to before.
She didn’t look like a bride. She didn’t look like a stranger’s wife. She looked like a child lost, weary, seeking rest where she could find it. And tonight, fate had placed that comfort against my shoulder.
I sat still, not daring to move her away. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I let her stay.
I didn’t wake her. Instead, I let her sleep, though my eyes refused to leave her face. How could someone look so innocent even in sleep? And why couldn’t I pull my gaze away? So many questions, but not a single answer.
Just then, the driver turned on the music system. A soft melody spilled into the air “Thoda thoda pyaar hua tumse…”
I shot him a deadly glare, my eyes hard enough to slice steel. Terrified, he fumbled to switch it off immediately, silence returning at once.
Minutes later, the car rolled to a stop in front of my mansion. Despite my strict orders, the so-called “Black Mafia Mansion” was glowing under fairy lights, draped in flowers like some royal wedding palace. My family’s handiwork. I clenched my jaw.
Now came the real problem waking Rivanya.
But how? Should I call her by name? Would that sound odd? Should I shake her shoulder? No that felt too much. What the hell was I even thinking? I was losing my mind over this.
Clearing my throat softly, I leaned closer.
“Um… listen? Hello? Miss Bedi…?”
No response.
Finally, giving in, I rested my hand lightly on her shoulder and whispered,
“Rivanya… wake up. We’ve reached home.”
My voice was softer than I’d ever heard myself speak. Softer than I’d ever allowed myself to be. For the first time in years, I sounded almost… gentle.
She stirred, blinking, and suddenly jolted upright with fear, her breath catching.
“Easy, easy,” I said quickly, raising my hands slightly. “Calm down. Nothing’s wrong. We’re home, that’s all. Shall we go inside?”
Her eyes dropped instantly to the floor, and she nodded quietly.
The driver rushed to open my door, but I stepped out and moved to hers.
Opening it, I waited as she tried to get down.
The heavy folds of her lehenga tangled around her feet, making her struggle.
Without thinking twice, I extended my hand.
She hesitated but finally placed her small palm in mine, and I helped her step out.
Closing the door, I guided her toward the grand gates.
That’s when I froze.
Blood.
Dark red stains smeared across the stone near the entrance, the kind that came only when a body was dragged mercilessly across the floor. My men. Careless. Reckless. Unforgivable. I cursed them silently, rage boiling under my skin.
I turned, and my anger only deepened when I saw Rivanya’s reaction. Her face had paled, her body trembling violently as her wide black eyes locked on the blood. For her, this was no ordinary sight. For her, it was horror.