3 ~ Midnight Hell - 21
I was thrilled to be honest.
I folded my arms, pretending to sulk but secretly thrilled at the chaos brewing. Strict parents had always been part of the fun...rules were meant to be tested, even if just a little.
Mukti, meanwhile, looked even paler, her fingers still clutching the lehenga that our mom had given her to get ready. The silence stretched for a moment, heavy with tension. Then her phone began to ring, piercing the quiet. She flinched, staring at the device.
"Who's calling?" I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and teasing.
She hesitated, biting her lip, and shook her head slightly. "Not now, Chahat... manage all this," she murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the door and the preparations, throwing her lehenga on the bed roughly.
"Manage? How?" I asked.
She then called mumma and said, "Maa wo Chahat na bohot naraz hai aap dono se aur abhi abhi gusse mein kahi bahar chali gayi hai. Use samjhane ka koi faida nahi hai. Jab wapas aayegi, tab baat karenge usse."
(Mom, Chahat is very upset with both of you, and she just stormed out in anger. There is no point in trying to reason with her right now. We'll talk when she gets back.)
I heard my mother heave, "Accha hai yahan rehti to rishta cancel karwake ke maanti."
(It's a good thing she isn't here otherwise, she wouldn't have rested until she got the engagement called off.)
"Haan abhi main ready hone jaa rahi hoon aap log please mujhe disturb mat kijiyega."
(Yes, I'm going to go get ready now. Please don't disturb me.)
She said okay and hung up.
I was confused. Didn't she say a moment ago that she's going?
She then took a deep breath. "Tujhe na meri jagah baithna hai."
(You have to sit in my place.)
I got confused.
"Lekin main kyun..."
(But why me...?)
"Haan, tujhe meri jagah baithna hai Mukti banke aur ye rishta cancel karwana hai." She explained.
(Yes, you have to take my place as Mukti and get this alliance called off.)
I shrugged my shoulder, "Kyaaa?"
(Whattttt?)
"Dekh kuch aisa karna ki wo ladka khud hi mana karde." She said as if it were so simple.
(Look, do something in such a way that the boy himself turns it down.)
God, I didn't know she was so expert at lying.
Like seriously. She's so fast. She planned all that up within minutes.
Of course, strict parents raise great liars. I thought I was the only one.
"Lekin Mukti main kaise..." I said.
(But Mukti how will I...)
She was in a hurry.
"Bas kisi bhi tarah sambhal lena...kisi ko bhi shak nahi hona chahiye ki tu Mukti nahi hai."
(Just manage it somehow... no one must suspect that you aren't Mukti.)
Before I could protest, she moved toward the window. My heart jumped. "Didi! Wait! Kahan ja rahi ho?" I called, panic threading my voice.
(Where are you going?)
She didn't even look back.
"Just need some air."
I rushed to her, grabbing her arm. "Nahi mat karo!"
(Don't do this!)
She didn't answer.
"Mukti?" I asked again, stepping closer.
She looked at me with a strange, apologetic smile. "Please handle everything till I come back. I'll try to return soon. But if I don't... do whatever you have to."
"Mukti, what are you saying?!" My voice rose, panic lacing every word.
But before I could grab her hand, she had already climbed onto the balcony railing. My heart jumped into my throat. "Mukti! Have you lost it?!"
She looked down once, then at me. "I don't want to marry him, Chahat. I can't."
And then, before my shocked brain could even process she swung her leg over and climbed down the balcony. Smoothly. Gracefully. As if she had done this a hundred times before.
"Mukti!" I gasped, rushing forward, leaning over the railing.
She had already reached the ground. Just like that. I stood there with my mouth open, stunned beyond words.
How?
How did my sweet, shy, obedient sister just scale a balcony like some Bollywood heroine on a mission?
"Mukti!" I hissed again. "Are you insane? What if someone sees you?!"
She turned once, looking up at me, and smiled faintly. "They won't. Just... manage everything for now. Please."
"Manage?!"
But she was gone before I could even finish. Disappeared into the street shadows as she'd vanished into thin air.
I just stood there, blinking, my mind blank.
The words she said kept ringing in my head: 'If I don't come back... do whatever you have to.'
Whatever do I have to?! What does that even mean?!
I pressed my hand to my forehead. "Oh God... what the hell just happened?"
Before I could even collect my thoughts, a knock came on the door. Mumma's voice followed immediately.
"Mukti, jaldi karo wo log aate hi honge."
(Mukti, Hurry up, they must be coming.)
Panic surged through me like a current. My eyes darted around the room. I looked at her outfit, and my heartbeat went wild.
"Hmm..." I tried to sound like Mukti.
"Theek hai jaldi karo," With that, I heard her footsteps fading away.
(Okay, hurry up.)
Think, Chahat, think!
I grabbed my phone with trembling hands and called the only person who could think crazier than me.
Ishika.
She picked up on the first ring. "What happened now?"
I explained the situation to her, and she choked.
"Oh my God," She gasped, and then... instead of panicking she laughed. "Your family is going to faint."
"Shut up! What do I do now? Mumma's knocking, and Mukti's gone, and the groom's family is probably on the way!"
"Okay, okay, calm down," she said between giggles. "You want the groom to reject her, right? Umm...then make such an impression that he'll run the other way."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"If you want him to reject you... Be bold."
I stopped pacing. "Bold?"
"Yes. Bold. Uncomfortably bold. The kind that makes men run."
I frowned. "Like?"
"Act clingy."
I blinked. "Clingy means?"
There was a pause. Then..."Are you serious right now?"
"I've never met the guy before! How am I supposed to cling to a stranger?" I whispered aggressively.
"Tujhe rishta cancel karana hai ki nahi karana?" she snapped.
(Do you want to cancel this rishta or not?)
I sighed. "Haan karana hai..."
(Yes, I have to.)
"Then listen," she continued. "Go sit too close to him. Don't maintain distance. Touch him. Talk too much. Men hate that."
"Hmm... aur?" I asked, biting my nail.
(And?)
"And ask awkward questions."
My brows furrowed. "Like what?"
She didn't hesitate. "Ask him what his favourite flavour is... what kind of movies he watches at night... and," She paused for dramatic effect, "what he likes in bed."
My brain stopped.
"WHAT!?"
"Exactly," she said smugly. "He'll run."
"Ishika!" I whisper-yelled. "Are you mad!? What if he answers?"
There was a pause.
Then even she sounded unsure for a second.
"Yaar... agar usne bata diya to... matlab..." I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "If he turns out to be some psycho and..."
(What if he answers...I mean if he turns out to be some psycho and...)
"Nahi hoga aisa," she cut me off quickly. "He'll definitely reject you. He'll think...kitni besharam ladki hai ye."
(This will not happen. He'll think...What a shameless girl she is.)
I exhaled slowly.
Okay.
"I'll call you later," I muttered and hung up.
My eyes slowly shifted to the bed.
The lehenga lay there, untouched. It was Rajasthani.
Not too heavy, but beautifully embroidered. Tiny mirrors stitched into the fabric reflected light like scattered stars. The dupatta was sheer, delicate... traditional.
So not me.
I walked toward it slowly, my fingers brushing the fabric.
"This is insane," I murmured but I picked it up anyway because there was no other option.
Within minutes, I was dressed.
The lehenga hugged me differently than my usual clothes...more graceful. The dupatta rested over my head, partially covering my face.
I barely recognized myself in the mirror.
A proper, traditional girl.
Exactly what the groom must be expecting.
I let out a dry laugh. "Poor guy," I muttered.
My sight fell on the mole on my waist. I immediately hid it with my duppata. If my family saw that they'll get to know that I'm not Mukti.
Then I grabbed my phone again.
If I were doing this... I needed backup stupidity.
I typed: 'How to make a guy reject you?'
And hit search.
The results were... insane.
My eyes widened as I scrolled.
'Talk non-stop about your imaginary ex.'
'Laugh loudly at inappropriate moments.'
'Act overly possessive within 5 minutes.'
'Ask him about marriage, kids, and plans immediately.'
'Mention you hate his hobbies even if you don't know them.'
'Stare intensely without blinking.'
'Call him 'baby' too early.'
"God..." I whispered, horrified.
Then one more...'Get uncomfortably close and invade personal space.'
My heartbeat picked up.
I mentally noted everything, my fingers tightening around my phone.
"You can do this, Chahat," I whispered to myself.
But my reflection in the mirror didn't look convinced because behind the veil...
I wasn't just nervous anymore.
I was walking straight into something I didn't understand.
And for the first time...I didn't know if I would come out of it laughing or regretting everything.
Somewhere downstairs, the sound of a car horn echoed.
The would-be groom had arrived.
And the girl he came to see...
He had no idea what storm was waiting for him under that veil.
A soft knock landed on the door.
My heart jumped straight to my throat.
I quickly adjusted the veil, making sure it covered my face properly, and walked toward the door.
As soon as I opened it, Mumma stepped in, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.
For a second, I thought she'd recognize me.
But she didn't.
Her hand came up, holding my arm gently, pulling me a little closer as she leaned near my ear.
"Kitchen mein chai rakkhi hai... wo leke phir jaana hall mein," she murmured.
(Tea is kept in the kitchen... take it to the hall.)
I nodded immediately, lowering my gaze like a perfect, obedient daughter.
Inside, I smirked.
'Chai to acche se pilaungi unhe main.'
(I'll serve him tea... very well.)