12. Deeper and Darker
After they were back from Musoorie, The houses hadn't been quiet for days.
Plastic folders labelled Vendor Payments, Jewellery Receipts, Guest Rooms.
Half-open Amazon boxes, decorative trays, extra fairy lights "just in case." Ruhika's mother had begun sorting sarees on the bed — stacking, re-stacking.
"Which one for chooda?"
"This one feels more traditional."
"No, that border is too heavy."
Ruhika floated between rooms with her phone in one hand and her laptop in the other. She'd answer a vendor call. Then open a spreadsheet.
Then switch to discussing bangles and flower arrangements. The contrast exhausted her more than the tasks did. Some nights she'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing laughter from the living room.
Across the city, it wasn't any calmer. His house looked more structured — but equally consumed. His father sat with a pen tucked behind his ear most evenings now.
"Transport ka confirmation aaya?"
"Band wale ko advance diya?
In middle of all this they were talking daily but not about each other mostly, Sometimes it was:
"Did you confirm the caterer?"
"Yes."
"Guest count final?"
"Almost."
"Dance practice kab?"
"Saturday.
_________
It was 12th July, the ceremonies were set to begin on 16th, just four days later
Both of them accompanied by Tara were picking up final deliveries from the mall
Garment bags hung from Shivansh's arm. Ruhika carried a neatly packed box containing her kalire, lehanga and her makeup essentials
Ruhika huffed a quiet laugh. "Too late."
They were walking past a watch store when Ruhika's steps slowed and Shivansh followed her line of sight.
He wasn't browsing anymore.He was looking at her. Recognition crossed his face first.Then something else—something that tightened the air around them.
She straightened slightly. "Hi."
Up close, Shivansh took him in quickly. Confident posture that had faltered half a degree. Eyes that were trying to appear unaffected and failing. A familiarity in the way he said her name that wasn't casual.
The man blinked once. "That's... soon."
His eyes flicked to Shivansh now. "You must be—"
They exchanged a brief nod. No handshake. No hostility. Just two men measuring distance.
The man gave a small, almost self-aware smile to him. "You're lucky."
Shivansh didn't like the way it sounded. Ruhika didn't respond to the compliment. She didn't deny it either.
"Congratulations," the man added.
There was a pause—one of those moments where something old tries to exist in a space that has already moved on.
Then he stepped back. "I won't keep you."
He left. But not abruptly. And Shivansh noticed the last glance.
Isha looked between them. "Well," she muttered under her breath, "Delhi really is small."
Ruhika didn't reply.
Shivansh walked a little more quietly than before.He didn't question her.He didn't look at her differently. But something had shifted.In the parking area, as he loaded the garment bags into the car,
It didn't take much time for Shivansh to put the pieces together as she had already told him about her past. He shut the trunk gently. "He looked like he didn't expect that."
"She doesn't post much," Isha said lightly, trying to ease it. "He probably found out about the wedding just now."
Shivansh didn't respond to her. He looked at Ruhika instead. "He still looked like he had something to say."
"I know."
He took a breath. "I don't like the way he looked at you."
The honesty surprised her. "What way?"
Her brows drew together faintly. "That's not my responsibility."
Isha sensed the shift and tactfully stepped ahead toward the elevator. "I'll grab the parking ticket."
They were alone now. "You think there's unfinished business?" Ruhika asked quietly.
He met her gaze directly. "I don't think that."
She stared at him. "You're upset because he looked... affected?"
His jaw tightened faintly. "I never asked for one."
"I'm not measuring anything, I don't know how to react to someone looking at the woman I'm marrying like he just realized she should've been his" He didn't realise what he said
He exhaled again. "Fine. I didn't like how it made me feel." That was closer to the truth.
He held her gaze before saying, "I'm sorry, I don't want to care in a way that makes you feel judged.But I also couldn't pretend that I was unaffected.
She stepped half a pace closer and said, "I'm marrying you there was never a place for him or anyone else the way there is for you."
Then he did something simple.
Isha came back when she sensed the atmosphere to be normal. She didn't press. She fell into step beside them as all three of them walked toward the car
Ruhika leaned back into her seat, looking out the window as the mall lights blurred past. She was quiet — not upset. Just thinking.
A few minutes into the drive, she turned slightly toward Isha. "Do you still have his number?" she asked.
Shivansh didn't look at her immediately — but his grip on the steering wheel shifted almost imperceptibly.He was afraid his reaction had hurt Ruhika or questioned her.
She studied Ruhika's face. "Yes."
"Send it to me."
There was no hesitation in her tone.
They reached Isha's apartment building first. She unbuckled her seatbelt slowly, clearly curious but choosing restraint for once.
"You sure?" she asked quietly, looking at Ruhika.
Isha stepped out, leaned back in through the open window and looked at Shivansh. "Don't overthink," she told him pointedly.
"I'm not," he replied calmly.
She looked unconvinced but shut the door anyway.
As the car pulled away, the silence inside felt different.
Hi. I think it's better we don't leave things unsaid. It was unexpected seeing you today. I just wanted to clear something respectfully — I'm in a very certain and happy place in my life. I hope you are too.
Take care.
- Ruhika
From the driver's seat, Shivansh watched her reflection in the windshield rather than staring directly. The city lights flickered over her face — calm, composed, not dramatic
He had expected — though he hadn't admitted it even to himself — that this might feel heavier for her. That closing something once meaningful might require a pause.
When she hit send, she didn't wait for the typing dots to appear.She didn't exhale shakily. She didn't explain herself.She just locked her phone and placed it face down on her lap.
Done.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel briefly, then relaxed it.
She hadn't erased her past. She hadn't denied it. She had simply placed it where it belonged — behind her.
And she had done it in front of him. Not because he demanded it.But because she wanted no shadows between them.
That kind of clarity was rare. He reached across the center console slowly, almost absentmindedly, and let his fingers brush against her hand.
She looked at him.
"What?" she asked.
Nothing."
But his thumb pressed once over her knuckles — a quiet, grounding gesture.
He shook his head lightly. Tonight, in the low hum of traffic and streetlights, he understood something far more personal.
She wasn't choosing him because she had to.She wasn't choosing him because there was no one else. She was choosing him with certainty
And that made him feel grateful
________
The car slowed outside her gate. The house lights were on. Voices faintly carried out from inside
For a second neither of them reached for the door.
He broke the quiet, "I'm really very sorry, For letting it get under my skin, I didn't mean to"
She leaned back slightly in her seat, studying him for a second before her lips curved faintly.
"You know, I was starting to think you've set calm as your default setting, I should be thankful for letting me confirm I'm marrying a human"
That actually made him smile.
She let the teasing sit for a second before her tone softened. "If something from my past disturbs you even slightly," she said more quietly, "I won't let it walk into our future."
His eyes softened in a way that didn't need words. He hadn't fallen in love in that moment. But he had maybe moved closer to it.
Her fingers moved to open the door, then paused.
"And for the record," she added, eyes steady on his, "if anyone ever looks at you like they realized too late, I'll probably be worse."
His brows lifted. "Worse?"
She stepped out of the car but leaned back in through the open door for one last second.
She shut the door and walked toward the gate, bangles faintly chiming with each step.
He waited until she disappeared inside before starting the engine again.
_____________
Next three days passed in a blur, at lightening speed. Her house had transformed.Marigold strings were now tied along balcony railings.Fairy lights traced the staircase.
Cousins slept in the living room.
Someone was always in the kitchen.
Music had started playing at odd hours.
And in the middle of it all —She was still expected to look like the calm bride.
The morning of the mehendi began earlier than necessary. At 7:30 AM, someone knocked on her door without waiting for permission.
Ruhika groaned into her pillow."This is harassment," she muttered, voice thick with sleep.
Isha didn't even pretend to feel guilty. She nudged the door open with her hip, two cups of chai balanced expertly in her hands.
"You don't get to complain anymore," she declared, setting one cup on the bedside table. "You're the main event."
Ruhika blinked at the ceiling for a moment before forcing herself upright. Her hair fell messily around her shoulders, the faint imprint of the pillow still marking one cheek.
For a second — just a second — it was quiet.
Her room still held the softness of early morning. Pale sunlight filtered through the curtains. The fairy lights strung along her mirror from the engagement still glowed faintly, forgotten from the night before.
In that tiny pocket of silence, she almost felt like herself.
Just Ruhika.
Then it came.
The distant thump of a dhol being tested in the courtyard. A burst of laughter from downstairs — high-pitched, overlapping, unmistakably female.
Her mother's voice, firm but affectionate, calling out instructions about trays and flowers and someone who had misplaced mithai boxes
Ruhika paused midway down the stairs. From here she could see the courtyard,
Low diwans layered with bright cushions in fuchsia, mustard, and emerald.
A dhol resting against the wall like it had been waiting its entire life for this afternoon.
The mehendi artist was unpacking cones, testing lines on tissue paper.
A strange awareness settled into her chest.After today, there would be no "engaged" buffer.No comfortable in-between.
It would move forward. Quickly.
Mehendi.
Sangeet
Haldi.
Wedding.
Vidaai.
The sequence felt real in a way it hadn't before.She gripped the staircase railing lightly.Not because she was scared.But because she suddenly understood something deeply~ Her life wasn't about to end.But it was about to change shape.
Her mother looked up from the seating arrangement and caught her watching.For a second, their eyes held.
And something unspoken that passed quietly between them.
Aarav led the way, already clapping in rhythm. Rohan carried a box of sweets and Shagun thaal. His mother walked in smiling, eyes searching instinctively for Ruhika.
And then—Shivansh stepped in.
In an emarald green kurta and light embroidered waistcoat. Sleeves folded once at the wrist. Hair slightly out of place
He looked composed.
Until he saw her.
For a second—The noise dipped for him. something about seeing each other in the middle of shared celebration felt different from engagement.
The mehendi artist began with her hands. Intricate vines curling along her palm.Paisleys blooming at her wrist.A hidden space left deliberately—"For the groom's name," the artist announced proudly.
Immediate whistles.
"Make it difficult!" Isha instructed.
Aarav shouted from somewhere near the snack table, "Bhai won't find it even if it's written in bold!"
Ruhika rolled her eyes, trying not to move her fingers.
When someone insisted he sit too, he complied
Rohan immediately leaned in, lowering his voice theatrically. "Make her name big. Very big. So he can't deny it later."
A few cousins giggled.Shivansh didn't look up. "Why would I deny it?"
The simplicity of that answer made a few aunties exchange pleased glances.
The artist laughed. "Full design kar dete hain, groom saab. Dulhan se kam nahi."
Shivansh finally looked up."Just shagun mehendi," he said calmly.
The artist paused. "Only shagun?"
He nodded once. "Just her name is enough."
Ruhika, sitting across from him with her palms already half-covered in intricate vines, looked up slowly.
The artist smiled knowingly and began.Instead of elaborate patterns, she drew a clean, graceful band along his wrist — subtle, elegant. Then she turned his palm slightly toward herself.
"What name?" she asked.
The cone moved carefully, forming the letters in smooth strokes across the center of his palm.
He watched every line like he was memorizing how it felt to see her name there.
Aarav clapped loudly. "Wah! Yeh hui na baat!"
Shivansh shook his head faintly but didn't protest. Ruhika tried not to smile.
The first hour passed in laughter. The second in adjustments.
By the third, she understood what every bride meant when they said mehendi is beautiful torture. Her hands had been resting on cushions for so long that her shoulders had begun to tighten.
"I'm not moving," Ruhika replied through a smile, though she was resisting the urge to stretch her fingers.
Across from her, Shivansh was sitting more upright than anyone had expected him to. His palm rested open, the henna drying slowly where her name had been written in clean, deliberate strokes.
He wasn't checking his phone.
He wasn't shifting impatiently.
Without drawing attention, he stood and disappeared inside the house. Ruhika frowned faintly, assuming someone had dragged him into another round of teasing.
She tested the support.It relieved the ache immediately.
"Yes," she said, softer than she had meant to.
An aunt sitting nearby exchanged a knowing glance with another.
"Dekho, He's so caring, Abhi se" someone murmured.
Ruhika pretended not to hear.But she felt it.
By evening , the dhol had officially taken control.
Aarav grabbed the sticks and attempted a rhythm that could only be described as enthusiastic chaos.
Isha dragged Mehak into the center.
Soon, a circle formed. Someone yelled, "Where is the groom? Come here!" Shivansh was pushed forward. He matched a few steps to the beats of dhol
From her seat, Ruhika watched.
He caught her looking. Raised an eyebrow slightly.
He shrugged as if to say Compelled.
The circle expanded. Cousins then turned toward her."Didii ! Stand up!"
"My hands!" she protested.
"Even better!" They helped her up carefully.Her legs tingled from sitting.She swayed slightly.
Instead of spinning her dramatically, he placed a steady hand at her waist and guided her gently side to side. Just enough that she didn't lose balance.
As snacks were circulated, someone placed a plate near
She stared helplessly at her hands.
Before anyone else reacted, he picked it up and sat beside
He balanced the plate on his knee. "What do you want?" he asked.
"And I can dance on one leg", he said
He was unbothered and feeding her and she leaned in again, closer this time without thinking.Their shoulders brushed. For a second, the courtyard noise blurred into background hum.
Ruhika glanced down at her palms carefully. The design had begun deepening at the edges, the orange slowly darkening into brown.
She spoke lightly, but there was curiosity beneath it. "Do you believe that?"
He didn't answer immediately.Instead, he looked at her palms with exaggerated seriousness
He leaned back just enough to look innocent.Right on Cue, Tara comes to Ruhika, "Are you going to just sit here for the entire night? What about weeks of scrolling Instagram for Bride's Solos?
Ruhika was hesitant at first because of the mehandi but even she wanted to dance
Her hands were lifted delicately near her waist, wrists angled outward so the designs showed.
She inhaled slowly.Then she looked up.And her gaze found himHe wasn't shouting with the cousins.Wasn't filming on his phone.Wasn't teasing.
He was simply standing there — arms folded loosely, expression softer than she had seen all evening.
The music began gently.She took one careful step forward.Then another.
Her shoulders moved first — subtle, controlled — swaying with the rhythm.
Her dupatta shifted slightly with the motion.
a graceful sway, nothing exaggerated. Her mehendi-covered hands moved delicately in small arcs, wrists turning to display the intricate patterns.
her focus kept drifting back to him.He hadn't moved.
But he wasn't still either.There was the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth.
?? "Jind Mahi..."
The dhol joined in.The energy doubled.
Her steps grew bolder — small footwork patterns, ankles precise, shoulders rolling slightly to match the beat.
Someone from the back shouted, "Look at her!"She's hiding talent!"
Tara circled her dramatically, hyping the crowd.
Ruhika laughed — full and unguarded — and that laugh changed something.
The hesitation melted.She twirled again — this time a little faster.Her Sharara flared around her legs.The fairy lights caught the shimmer in the fabric.
The applause grew louder.
She finished with one final controlled spin — not dramatic, not overdone — landing steady and composed.
The courtyard exploded.Whistles.Claps.
"You said you don't either," she replied.
____
It was just noise, color, claps, cousins colliding into each other, someone dropping a dupatta, someone yelling for more volume.
The night grew darker.Fairy lights glowed warmer.
Her mehendi had deepened beautifully now — rich brown settling into her palms.
The Mehendi night ended not softly —But with a blast.
Laughter echoing.Relatives hugging.Music fading slowly into hum.It was quieter now.Almost unrecognizable from the chaos earlier.The house had dimmed into warm yellow light. Voices softened into murmurs.Tara had finally stopped talking.
The color had deepened beautifully — rich brown settling into the grooves of her palms. The intricate patterns no longer looked wet or fragile. They looked... claimed.
Her gaze drifted slowly over the vines, the paisleys, the tiny details she hadn't had the chance to properly admire earlier.
It felt strange.
What she felt tonight wasn't fireworks.It wasn't cinematic.It wasn't overwhelming.It was quieter.
Steadier.
The kind of feeling that made her breathe easier instead of faster.She shifted slightly on the bed, careful not to disturb the designs.
The room smelled faintly of eucalyptus oil and henna — earthy, grounding.
It didn't look forced.It didn't look like it had been added just for show.It looked like it belonged there.
______________
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So, how did you like the chapter overall
Their wedding rituals are finally here!
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Next update soon!