20
Today was the day. The royal wedding of the most feared yet beloved Bhairava Choudhury.
Yes - that Bhairava bhaiya. The one who can glare a man into a coma... was getting married.
I stood in my room, all dressed up. I wore a stunning white embroidered lehenga, glimmering slightly with delicate silver threadwork.
The blouse hugged perfectly, and the flowing dupatta trailed behind like royalty.
My matching jewelry-light, classy, with a hint of drama-completed the look.
I looked like a dream, if I do say so myself.
I twirled once and whistled at my reflection, smirking. "Katha Choudhury, you absolute firecracker," I said to myself and winked.
Then I looked down - and nearly squealed.
Sheraa.
My baby snow leopard.
Sitting on his fluffy butt, chewing his meat stick contentedly.
Wearing his own tiny custom-made sherwani.
Cream with golden embroidery, complete with a mini red stole tied carefully around his neck. He even had tiny mojaris on his fluffy paws.
"Arey wah, mere prince!" I gasped. "Tu to pura dulha ban gaya!"
("Wow, my prince! You've become a full groom!")
He looked up with a smug growl and chomped down harder on his stick like he knew exactly how cute he looked.
I crouched down in front of him, fixed his little stole, and kissed his head gently. "Sheraa baby, you're going to steal the show, aren't you?"
He growled proudly and did a small hop like he agreed. I swear, if he had hands, he would've adjusted his imaginary sunglasses right then.
From outside the room, I heard Utsav yell, "Diiii, Bhairava bhaiya is crying again! He saw Arya bhabhi's lehenga and started sobbing!"
I slapped my forehead and muttered, "Iss dulhe ka kya karun main..."
("What do I even do with this groom...")
Sheraa grunted in agreement, and I scooped him up in my arms. "Chal, dhule ke bahen aur leopard ready hain. Let's go fix our crybaby dulha before he floods the mandap."
I opened the door to Bhairava bhaiya's room, already hearing sniffles before I even stepped in. And there he was-the lion-hearted Bhairava Choudhury-sitting on the sofa, dressed halfway in his sherwani, holding a handkerchief and crying like a baby.
"Oh god, bhaiya! Come on! You're getting married, not dying," I said, dramatically throwing my hands up.
He gave me one of his trademark sharp glares. "Main apni Arya se shaadi kar raha hoon! Let me be emotional! And-she's pregnant! I'm going to be a papa! Let me cry happily, damn it!"
Me and my other two clowns-Dyan bhaiya and Gyan bhaiya-burst into laughter. I walked over and hugged him, grinning wide. "Aww bhaiya... our big Bhairava is becoming a pati and a papa. Legends do cry!"
Dyan bhaiya, never missing a moment to poke fun, leaned in and said, "Bhaiya, do you want us to get you a baby bottle along with the varmala?"
Gyan bhaiya added, "Or maybe a rattle? You can shake it every time the pheras get too emotional!"
We all laughed loudly. Even Bhairava bhaiya chuckled through his tears and sniffled, "You all are devils..."
Just then, Utsav came in, holding a very grumpy Sheraa who looked slightly offended that he was being carried around like a showpiece. Utsav was giggling happily. "Bhaiya, you're crying more than Arya bhabhi did at the roka!"
Everyone laughed louder, and I looked at Utsav with a smirk. "Oye laddu, you teasing your Bhairava bhaiya now?"
Utsav nodded proudly. "Of course, dii! I never thought I'd live to see the great Bhairava Choudhury crying like a telenovela heroine!"
Sheraa gave a small growl like he agreed, and Bhairava bhaiya wiped his face dramatically with his handkerchief. "One more word from you all and I'm not giving anyone laddus at the reception."
Gyan bhaiya gasped, "Emotional damage AND sweet damage? Bhaiya, have mercy!"
And just like that, in the chaos of teasing, laughter, and Sheraa trying to bite the lace off Utsav's kurta, the wedding day began. Loud, loving, and full of madness-just how a Choudhury wedding should be.
"Come on, Bhairava bhaiya, it's time. We should go down now," I said, fixing the collar of his sherwani and checking if his buttons were straight.
He stood up instantly, wiped his face one last time like a soldier preparing for battle, and nodded like an obedient little kid. "Haan chalo, chalo... main ready hoon," he said seriously, as if he wasn't crying into a handkerchief just five minutes ago.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, now you're ready? A minute ago you were giving 'Shaadi Ke Side Effects' realness."
Dyan bhaiya snorted. "He's scared of Arya bhabhi now. Ek baar pregnancy news aayi and Bhairava bhaiya became the most sanskari pati alive."
Gyan bhaiya joined in, smirking. "Wait till the baby comes. Tab toh bhaiya Arya bhabhi ke heels bhi polish karenge."
Utsav giggled uncontrollably while holding Sheraa, who was now playing with one of the flower garlands like a chew toy. "Bhaiya, baby ke diaper badalna mat bhoolna!"
Bhairava bhaiya shook his head, grumbling, "Sab milke na mere khilaaf conspiracy chala rahe ho... I swear."
I looped my arm around his. "Nahi bhaiya, no conspiracy. Just your crazy, lovable family supporting you as you cry your way into marriage and parenthood."
He sighed with mock drama. "Bas. Mujhe niche le chalo... warna Arya mujhe divorce notice bhej degi before shaadi."
And with that, the great Bhairava Choudhury, with tears dried, sherwani straightened, and spirit mildly crushed, was escorted down by his siblings and one sassy snow leopard cub, into a house buzzing with wedding bells, laughter, and the madness only a Choudhury wedding could bring.
As we reached downstairs, the whole hall lit up with warm lights and floral fragrances. I spotted Arya bhabhi standing gracefully near the mandap, dressed in a stunning red lehenga, glowing brighter than all the lights combined.
"Bhabhiiii!" I squealed, rushing over and hugging her tightly. "You look... oh my god, like a goddess. Bhairava bhaiya is so lucky."
She laughed, "Look who's talking! You look drop-dead gorgeous, princess."
Right on cue, Bhairava bhaiya stepped forward and hugged Arya bhabhi - and yep, cried again.
"Bhaiya!" I groaned.
Dyan bhaiya clapped him on the back. "Bro, you're not dropping her off to boarding school. You're marrying her."
Gyan bhaiya added with a smirk, "At this point, bhaiya's tears could fill a pooja kalash."
Even papa tried not to laugh as he consoled Bhairava bhaiya, patting his back. "Beta, stop crying before pandit ji thinks we're mourning, not marrying."
We all burst out laughing as Bhairava bhaiya wiped his face and nodded like a sulking child.
Finally, the couple moved towards the mandap, hand in hand.
I smiled, turned around, ready to carry my little Sheraa to a chair - when I froze.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
Standing across the hall. Dressed in an all-black kurta, arms crossed, stoic as ever - but his gaze... was already fixed on me.
Damn.
He looked majestic. Dangerous. Unbothered.
And yet, in a room full of hundreds, he only looked at me.
I unconsciously found my feet moving toward him, like gravity had just decided he was the center of my universe for the moment.
"Hi," I said, trying to keep it casual - and failing, obviously.
Dattatriya's eyes didn't move from mine. "You look like trouble," he said, voice low and unreadable. "Beautiful, dangerous trouble."
I raised a brow. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
"Both," he replied simply.
I smirked, arms folded. "Well, you clean up nice, Agnivanshi. What brings you here? Gatecrashing my brother's wedding or came to deliver another mysterious video file?"
He shrugged slightly. "You thanked me. It felt... enough to show up."
I tilted my head. "You don't seem like the 'show up to weddings' kind."
"I'm not," he said flatly. "But you're not exactly 'thank you' texting material either."
I blinked.
Okay. Fair.
"Fine," I said, smiling slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if the Devil himself knew how to smile at a wedding."
He looked at me. "The Devil only smiles when the Queen commands it."
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Sheraa made a small chuffing sound in my arms, breaking the tension.
Dattatriya glanced down at him and then back at me. "Even your leopard looks judgmental."
I laughed. "That's how I raised him."
He gave the smallest curve of a smile. "Good. Keep doing that."
And just like that, he turned and walked past me - disappearing into the crowd, like a shadow in the dark.
But my heart?
Yeah... that was still staring after him.
-
Finally, after all the chaos, teasing, crying, and flower mishaps, Arya bhabhi and Bhairava bhaiya were officially married.
As the priest completed the final mantras, Bhairava bhaiya wiped his tears like a dramatic hero and hugged Arya bhabhi tightly.
"You're mine now, officially," he said in a proud, overprotective tone.
Arya bhabhi rolled her eyes. "I've always been yours, dumbass.
"
We all laughed, even papa - who muttered something about finally getting to retire now that one of his kids was married.
Then came the part that made my heart pause.
Dattatriya walked up to them. Still in that stunning black kurta, cold and majestic, but his eyes... softer, just for a second.
"Congratulations," he said in that quiet, unreadable voice.
Bhairava bhaiya, to my surprise, hugged him tightly, patting his back.
"You came. That means a lot," Bhairava bhaiya said sincerely.
"I owed Katha. That's the only reason," Dattatriya replied, but even I could tell he didn't fully mean it.
"I know," bhaiya said, smirking. "Still - thanks."
I stood nearby, watching Dattatriya the entire time. And just before he turned away, he looked at me.
His face was blank - classic Dattatriya - but his eyes softened, just for a fraction of a second.
Then it was gone.
He started to walk past me. My feet moved before I could think.
"Food?" I asked, a little too hopefully.
He stopped. Turned slightly.
Nodded once. "Only if you're eating too."
I smiled. "Come on then. I'll show you what a Choudhury wedding feast looks like."
He walked beside me without a word.
But my heartbeat was too loud to hear anything else anyway.
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