16 ~ Heartless Monster #3
"Seema!" Dadi's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Bas karo."
(Enough.)
Her mouth snapped shut.
Dadi turned to face us, her expression calm but stern.
"Uske kisi dost ne Kartik ko pila diya," she said, her voice firm. "Main use dhundh rahi thi jab woh achanak se gayab ho gaya. Phir Chahat ne mujhe bataya ki woh outhouse mein hai."
(One of his friends got Kartik drunk. I was looking for him when he suddenly disappeared. Then Chahat told me he was in the outhouse.)
Dadi looked at Chahat, her eyes softening.
I felt my eyes turn teary again.
The warmth of my mother's arms around me. The firmness of Dadi's defence. The way she stood up for me without even hesitating.
My mother pulled me closer, her hand stroking my hair.
"Shh," she murmured. "Sab theek hai. Tum theek ho?"
(Everything's fine. Are you okay?)
I couldn't speak.
I just nodded, burying my face in her shoulder as I struggled to steady my trembling breaths.
When I finally lifted my head, my eyes drifted to Kartik.
The sight of him filled me with a rage I had never known before.
Whatever happened today...Whatever he had said to me... Had shattered every ounce of respect I could have ever had for him.
I never wanted to see his face again.
Not after today. Not after the way he had judged me. Not after the way he had questioned my character.
A man who believed he had the right to decide whom I could talk to.
A man who could kiss a girl without her verbal consent and then accuse her of crossing boundaries with other men.
How could I ever trust someone with a mentality so pathetic?
I couldn't and I never would.
The next morning arrived with the sweet fragrance of fresh mehendi, marigolds, and rose petals filling the entire house.
Today was Mehendi.
Laughter echoed through every corner as women bustled around carrying trays of bangles, sweets, and cones of henna. Folk songs played softly in the background while relatives chatted excitedly, making the house feel alive once again.
Mukti sat in the center of the hall, surrounded by the mehendi artists.
Intricate patterns climbed from her fingertips to almost her elbows, rich with delicate flowers, peacocks. Everyone admired how dark and beautiful it looked.
My mehendi was done too.
Unlike Mukti, I had only gotten a simple design on my palms.
I wasn't in the mood for anything elaborate.
No matter how much I tried to distract myself, yesterday refused to leave my mind.
His words.
His accusations.
The way he had looked at me as though I had done something shameful. Just because he was jealous of Rivan.
Everything still echoed inside my head.
Tonight was the ladies' sangeet and Mumma had invited all the women from Kartik's family for the celebration.
Surprisingly...Kartik and Ayaan had come too.
Needing a little silence, I quietly slipped upstairs toward my room.
Just as I reached the corridor, I heard a familiar voice.
"...Of course I love you." I paused. "I'll handle everything. Don't worry."
My brows knitted together.
That was Didi.
Curiosity got the better of me. I stepped closer.
"Di?"
The word had barely left my lips when she flinched.
She turned around so abruptly that her phone almost slipped from her hand.
For a brief second...She looked startled.
"Kisse baat kar rahi ho?" I asked.
(Who are you talking to?)
She blinked once before forcing a smile. "Kartik se."
(Kartik.)
Before I could say another word, she took her phone and walked past me.
I stood there, confused.
Almost instinctively, I walked to the balcony overlooking the front courtyard.
My eyes searched for Kartik.
There he was.
Standing beside Ayaan and a few of his cousins, completely engrossed in their conversation.
He wasn't holding a phone.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
I shook my head.
Why is she marrying Kartik if she doesn't love him?
Another thought followed immediately.
But this time...
I pushed it away.
No.
I have had enough of their complications, enough of their secrets and enough of being dragged into a mess that was never mine to begin with.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at the fresh mehendi staining my palms.
I just wanted to enjoy whatever little happiness these wedding celebrations still had left to offer.
After the mehendi had dried, I carefully washed my hands.
As the paste came off, I couldn't help but smile.
The stain had turned out beautifully...deep, rich, and dark against my skin. Delicate patterns bloomed across my palms, making me admire them for a brief moment.
I slipped into a simple Rajasthani lehenga adorned with subtle gota patti and tiny mirror work. It was nothing compared to Mukti's heavily embroidered bridal outfit, but I liked its simplicity.
Leaving my hair open, I adjusted the dupatta neatly over my shoulder before taking one last look in the mirror.
Then, taking a quiet breath, I stepped out of my room and made my way toward the hall, where the sound of laughter, folk songs, and the chatter of women welcomed me once again.