CHAPTER 3 （aryan）
The view outside the car window blurred as the vehicle moved through the night.
The ride was silent.
Dangerously silent.
My bride sat beside me, her face hidden beneath the heavy veil.
I wasn't a man who dreamed about marriage.
In fact, if my grandfather hadn't given his word years ago, I wouldn't be sitting here right now.
Yet here I was.
Married.
The thought felt strange.
My gaze shifted toward the woman beside me.
She hadn't spoken a single word since the wedding ended.
That alone was enough to catch my attention.
During our engagement, Aarushi Sharma had done enough talking for both of us.
She spoke about her favorite movies.
Her friends.
Her hobbies.
Her family.
Everything.
Except her sister.
Aarushi never spoke about her sister.
Not once.
Now she sat beside me in complete silence.
No complaints.
No conversation.
No attempt to fill the awkwardness.
Just silence.
My eyes drifted toward her hands.
They rested in her lap, fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks.
Nervous.
I looked away.
That wasn't unusual.
Most brides were nervous.
Still...
Something felt different.
The way she had walked toward the mandap kept replaying in my mind.
Aarushi's walk had always been confident.
Almost careless.
This one had been different.
Elegant.
Measured.
Graceful.
I frowned.
You're overanalyzing everything, Aryan.
I leaned back against the seat.
Relax.
The lights of my mansion soon came into view.
Golden decorations covered the property, illuminating the night.
The car rolled into the garage and came to a stop.
Finally.
I stepped out and adjusted the collar of my sherwani.
I already hated this outfit.
I was never wearing something like this again.
Not even under threat of death.
The moment I stepped inside, dozens of eyes turned toward me.
I ignored them.
People staring had become a normal part of my life years ago
I could feel my bride following a few steps behind me.
Then suddenly—
Gasps.
Whispers.
Shock.
The entire hall erupted.
I stopped walking.
My jaw tightened.
I was used to silence.
Not this.
Not from my family.
Not from my guests.
Slowly, I turned around.
Every single person in the room was staring behind me.
My gaze followed theirs.
And for the first time in a very long time—
I froze.
That wasn't Aarushi Sharma.
I knew because the woman standing before me had green eyes.
Aarushi's eyes were brown.
For a moment, my mind refused to process what I was seeing.
Why was my bride's sister standing here?
My gaze locked onto her.
She refused to meet my eyes.
Instead, she stared at the floor, her fingers wrapped tightly around her left arm.
Nervous.
Guilty.
Or maybe both.
"Where is Aarushi?"
My voice came out colder than intended.
Her lips parted.
Then closed again.
My patience thinned.
A tense silence stretched between us.
Finally, she spoke.
"She ran."
The words hit harder than they should have.
For a second, I simply stared at her.
"She ran?" I repeated.
She nodded.
My jaw clenched.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Of course.
Of course she did.
"And they sent you to take her place."
It wasn't a question.
It was a fact.
I took a step forward.
She immediately took one back.
Another answer.
Another nod.
My patience snapped another thread.
I wanted words.
An explanation.
Anything.
Instead, she kept nodding as if that would somehow make this situation easier to understand
I took another step forward.
She took another step back.
What was wrong with this girl?
Why was she so quiet?
The more she refused to speak, the more irritated I became.
And the more irritated I became, the angrier I got.
One step.
Then another.
She matched every step by moving backward until her back met the wall.
She froze.
For the first time, she had nowhere else to go.
I stood in front of her.
"Did anyone know?" I asked.
My voice was dangerously calm.
"Does everyone know except me?"
She still wouldn't look at me.
Wouldn't speak.
Wouldn't explain.
Just another nod.
Something inside me snapped.
I lifted my hand abruptly and planted it against the wall beside her head.
The sound echoed through the hall.
She flinched.
Not because I had touched her.
I hadn't.
But because she clearly hadn't expected the movement.
I stared at her.
Waiting.
Demanding.
Wanting something—anything—other than silence.
"Use your words, Mahi."
My jaw tightened.
"Because right now, you're the only person giving me answers."
I took a slow breath.
Getting angry wasn't helping.
I needed answers.
"Did you know?"
I asked again.
This time, she finally spoke.
"No."
She still refused to meet my eyes.
But her chin remained lifted.
Stubborn.
Interesting.
One corner of my mouth twitched.
I leaned slightly closer.
"And why should I believe that?"
For the first time, she looked directly at me.
There it was.
Defiance.
Clear and unmistakable.
For a moment, she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something.
Then stopped herself.
"I didn't know."
The answer came out firmer this time.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Calm down, Aryan.
"You were her sister."
I opened my eyes and looked at her.
"Sisters have that bond."
The moment the words left my mouth, something changed.
The defiance disappeared.
Not completely.
But enough.
And in its place, I saw something else.
Hurt.
Raw.
Unhidden.
For the first time since this conversation began, she looked less angry and more wounded.
As if I had unknowingly pressed against an old bruise
She swallowed hard.
"We didn't have the sisterly bond you think we had."
For the first time, there was frustration in her voice.
"I barely knew anything about her."
As she spoke, her breathing became uneven.
Her chest rose and fell faster than before.
Her fingers tightened around her left arm so hard that her knuckles turned pale.
Something wasn't right.
I frowned.
For a moment, I simply watched her.
Trying to understand.
Trying to make sense of what she was saying.
I closed my eyes briefly.
"But sisters are close."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
The second I said them, I knew something had changed.
She looked at me.
Really looked at me.
Her eyes glistened beneath the lights.
But she refused to let the tears fall.
"We weren't close at all."
The words were quiet.
Yet somehow they hit harder than anything else she had said tonight.
I straightened to my full height.
Questions filled my mind.
A hundred of them.
But before I could ask a single one, I noticed her breathing again.
Too fast.
Dangerously fast.
As if the air around her had suddenly become too thin.
Before I could ask another question, my mother stepped between us.
"Aryan, enough."
Her voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"Leave her alone."
My jaw clenched.
I wanted answers.
I wanted the truth.
But arguing with my mother wouldn't get me either.
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the room
The moment I reached the garage, I got into my car and drove away.
The city lights blurred past the windows.
My grip tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
Why?
The question refused to leave my mind.
Why would Aarushi run?
Why would they hide it?
Why would my own family keep this from me?
I slammed the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road.
The engine continued to hum softly.
For a moment, silence filled the vehicle.
Then I reached for my phone.
There was one person who could help me.
Ekaansh.
I dialed his number.
The call connected on the second ring.
"Hello?"
His voice carried a hint of confusion.
"Brother?"
"Ekaansh."
My voice came out colder than intended.
"Listen carefully."
The confusion immediately disappeared from his tone.
"I'm listening."
"I need the CCTV footage from the wedding venue."
A pause.
Then:
"Which camera?"
"Hallway outside Room 187."
My eyes narrowed.
"And I need it now."
"Right away, brother."
The call ended.
I lowered the phone and stared through the windshield.
One way or another...
I was going to find out exactly what happened.
Within minutes, my phone vibrated.
A message from Ekaansh.
Fast.
As always.
I opened the file.
For a brief moment, my thumb hovered over the screen.
Then I pressed play.
The footage began.
The first person to appear was Aarushi.
She stood inside the room, not wearing her bridal dress
Instead, she seemed strangely relaxed.
As if she wasn't minutes away from her own wedding.
I watched as she spoke on the phone.
The camera didn't capture the voice on the other end.
Only hers.
"Make sure no one sees you, okay?"
A pause.
Then she laughed softly.
"I'm not doing anything."
She picked up a yellow sheet of paper and a pen.
"Just a formality."
My jaw tightened.
The footage continued.
Aarushi quickly wrote something on the paper.
Folded it.
Placed it on the bed.
Then disappeared from the camera's view.
A bitter feeling settled in my chest.
She had planned it.
Every second of it.
Every step.
I paused the video.
For a moment, I simply stared at the screen.
Then I pressed play again.
A few minutes later, another figure entered the room.
Mahi.
She wore a lavender lehenga.
The color stood out immediately.
She stepped inside with hesitation but.
Without suspicion.
Without any sign that she knew what she was about to find.
My eyes narrowed.
The footage continued.
My eyes remained fixed on the screen.
Mahi moved around the room, opening doors one after another.
Even through the grainy footage, I could see her uneasiness.
Her movements were hurried.
Her breathing was already quick.
As if she could sense something was wrong.
Then she sat down on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight.
A second later, her hand brushed against something.
The yellow note.
She jerked her hand back immediately.
For a moment, she simply stared at it.
Then, with visible hesitation, she picked it up.
I watched carefully.
Her eyes moved across the page.
And then—
Shock.
Pure shock.
Her eyes widened.
the color drained from her face.
She looked as if someone had knocked the air from her lungs.
I frowned.
The note couldn't have been long.
I had already seen Aarushi write it.
It had taken less than a minute.
Yet whatever was written there had completely changed Mahi's expression.
Before I could think further, another woman entered the room.
Silver lehenga.
The same woman I had seen standing beside Mahi during the wedding.
Her friend.
The woman touched Mahi's shoulder.
A startled shriek echoed through the phone speaker.
I blinked.
The reaction was immediate.
Instinctive.
Not rehearsed.
Not fake.
"What is wrong with you?" the woman asked.
"Why are you shouting?"
Mahi placed a hand against her chest, trying to steady her breathing.
"Why would you touch me like that?"
The woman rolled her eyes before looking around the room.
"Where's Aarushi?"
Mahi froze.
The movement was so sudden that even I noticed it.
Without saying a word, she handed over the note.
The other woman read it.
Her eyes widened.
"This isn't funny, Mahi."
The disbelief in her voice was obvious.
Mahi laughed once.
A hollow, humorless sound.
"You think that's a joke?"
She pointed toward herself.
"Then why do you think I screamed?"
With that, I closed the video.
For a long moment, I rested my head against the headrest and stared at the ceiling of my car.
Everything had been planned.
Every single thing.
Aarushi hadn't run away on impulse.
She had prepared for it.
And in the end, both Mahi and I had become victims of her decision.
I let out a slow breath.
The anger was still there.
But now it was directed at the right person.
I started the engine and drove back home.
The familiar gates opened.
Minutes later, I parked in the garage and shut off the engine.
Silence filled the car.
For a moment, I remained seated.
Then I stepped out.
My footsteps felt heavier than before as I walked inside the mansion.
The hall was quiet.
Most of the guests had already left.
I was about to climb the stairs when my mother's voice stopped me.
"Aryan."
I turned around.
She stood near the living room entrance.
Worry was written all over her face.
"Where were you?" she asked softly.
"I was worried."
I closed my eyes briefly.
The exhaustion of the entire day settled over me.
"Don't worry, Mom."
I opened my eyes and looked at her.
"I'm here now."
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I noticed it.
The guilt in her eyes.
The sadness.
And beneath it all, understanding.
"I knew, Aryan."
Her voice trembled.
"But Avni told me not to tell you."
My jaw clenched instantly.
Avni.
Of course.
It was always Avni.
A snake disguised as my mother's soul sister.
Manipulation was second nature to that woman.
And the worst part?
My mother trusted her.
Always.
I wanted to be angry.
I wanted to demand answers.
But looking at my mother's face, I couldn't.
She had been manipulated just like everyone else.
I took a deep breath.
"It's okay, Mom."
The words surprised even me.
She looked at me in shock.
I offered her a small nod.
"Good night."
Without waiting for a reply, I turned around and walked upstairs.
The hallway felt unusually quiet.
My mind should have been focused on Aarushi.
On Avni.
On the lies.
Instead, an image kept appearing in my head.
Green eyes.
A trembling breath.
And a quiet voice saying,
"We weren't close at all."
For the first time that night, I wondered what kind of life Mahi Sharma had been living before she became Mahi Rathore.
I opened the bedroom door and quietly shut it behind me.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
The events of the day weighed heavily on my shoulders.
With a sigh, I began unfastening the buttons of my sherwani.
The fabric suddenly felt suffocating.
Once the last button was undone, I pulled it over my head and tossed it onto the dresser.
Much better.
My gaze drifted toward the bed.
A small figure lay asleep beneath the blankets.
Mahi.
Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
The silver moonlight spilling through the window softened her features.
For the first time since I had met her, she looked peaceful.
No fear.
No hurt.
No tension.
Just sleep.
I looked away.
Carefully opening the wardrobe, I grabbed a shirt and changed
The room fell silent once more.
For a brief second, my eyes wandered back to the bed.
To the stranger who had become my wife in a matter of hours.
What a mess.
I rubbed a hand over my face.
Then walked toward the couch.
I lowered myself onto it and rested my head against my arm.
The ceiling came into view.
My thoughts should have been on Aarushi.
On Avni.
On the lies.
Instead, my mind kept replaying fragments of the evening.
Green eyes.
A trembling voice.
A quiet confession.
"We weren't close at all."
I exhaled slowly.
Tomorrow would bring questions.
Answers.
And probably more problems.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Closing my eyes, I allowed exhaustion to finally take over.
Tomorrow would be a different day.