Chapter Thirteen
Ria's POV
The early morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, but it did little to warm the ache in my bones.
I stirred slowly, a dull pain throbbing in my shoulders and lower back.
The couch was a cruel surface to sleep on, and my body had paid the price.
I shifted slightly, feeling the soreness with every movement.
My eyes immediately darted to the bed - empty.
A relieved sigh escaped my lips. He wasn't here.
Thank the Gods.
The weight that pressed on my chest last night eased slightly. I slowly rose to my feet, suppressing a wince as I stretched. My mind couldn't help but wander back to the way he looked at me, the way he spat every word like poison. A forced marriage. A brutal night. A storm I hadn't asked for.
But at least he wasn't here.
I made my way to the bathroom and stood under the hot stream of water, letting the warmth ease some of the pain in my body. It was the only comfort I had - temporary, fleeting, false.
After my shower, I wore a dusty rose anarkali, soft and elegant with delicate embroidery across the neckline and sleeves. No saree - I wasn't ready to carry something so heavy, not when my heart already felt like it bore a thousand weights.
Back in the room, I sat in front of the large mirror - the one that had reflected the broken girl I saw last night. I brushed my hair slowly, staring at my face. Not with pride. Not with admiration. But with resignation.
My eyes drifted to the mangalsutra around my neck - simple, delicate, with a shimmering diamond in the center.
Any other woman would wear it with joy. It was a symbol of love, of union.
But for me, it was a symbol of captivity.
Of a bond I never asked for. A chain, cold and beautiful, that kept me tethered to a man who loathed me.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I said quietly.
The door opened, and Ishita and Kritika walked in, both smiling brightly.
"Good morning, Bhabhi!" they said in unison.
"Good morning," I replied, returning a soft smile.
They rushed over and turned me gently toward them.
"Bhabhi, we have great news!" Kritika said excitedly.
Curiosity flickered through me. "What is it, Kritika?"
"We spoke to Dadaji," Ishita beamed, "and we agreed that you and Bhai need a wedding reception!"
My heart dropped. A wedding reception?
"It's really not necessary," I said quickly. "And I don't enjoy gatherings."
"Bhabhi, no girl should be married under your circumstances. What my brother did to you was very wrong," Kritika said, guilt softening her voice. "Please, let us give you a grand wedding reception - to make it up to you."
"Yes, and besides," Ishita added, trying to lift the mood, "every girl deserves a wedding reception. So why not you?"
I wanted to refuse. I really did. But the way they looked at me - sincere, caring, trying to give me back something that was never theirs to take - I couldn't.
I smiled gently. "Kritika, Ishita - how could I say no to you both? But please, stop feeling guilty for what Aansh did. Promise me you'll never blame yourselves again."
They looked at each other and then nodded, saying in unison, "Promise."
They hugged me tightly. I let myself be held.
"You know bhabhi," Kritika giggled, "we always thought Bhai would end up marrying a snooty, rich, self-obsessed girl."
"Yes! I actually thought it would be Ruksar," Ishita added, laughing.
That name caught my attention. "Ruksar Mehra? The top model in India?"
"Yes!" Ishita said. "She even sent Bhai a proposal. He rejected her. But honestly, Bhabhi, we're lucky. We got you instead, sweet and loving."
Before I could say anything more, Ishita added, "We forgot why we came up. Come, Dadaji is calling you downstairs."
I grabbed my dupatta and followed them.
---
Downstairs
The living room was full. Everyone except Aansh had already gathered. I walked in quietly.
I approached Dadaji and knelt to take his blessings.
He smiled warmly. "Khush raho, beta."
I then turned to my father-in-law, touching his feet. He said nothing. Just looked away. That coldness, sharper than any slap.
Damini aunty and Vikrant chacha gave me piercing glances. Gayatri Rathore's stare made me freeze, but I kept my head bowed.
Avantika came forward and hugged me. "Good morning, Bhabhi," she whispered.
"Good morning," I murmured.
"Good morning, Bhabhi!" Kiaan and Rahul greeted cheerfully.
I smiled at them. They were kind.
Aavyan gave me a polite nod, which I returned.
We were called for breakfast. Everyone began taking their seats. As I was about to sit down, Gayatri's voice rang sharp and cold.
"There is a rule in this house. A married woman should not eat her breakfast without her husband."
I froze.
The entire table went silent. Did she really expect me to starve myself for that heartless beast.
"Where is your husband, Ria?" Damini asked, her voice mocking.
My heart dropped. I didn't know where he was. My mouth opened to speak-
"I'm here," came that deep voice.
Everyone turned.
Aansh stood at the entrance, calm and composed.
He walked in slowly, touching Dadaji's feet. "Good morning, Dadaji."
"Aansh, join us for breakfast," Dadaji offered.
"I'm not hungry," he said flatly. "I have an important meeting."
He walked around the table, kissed Ishita and Kritika on the forehead, nodded to Kiaan and Rahul, took blessings from Damini and Vikrant - and completely ignored his parents.
He didn't even glance at me. "Stupid," I whispered to myself.
"Aavyan, let's go," he said, walking out.
As I began to sit, Gayatri's voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Where is your vermillion, Ria?"
I froze. I had forgotten.
"Dadaji," she snapped, "I told you not to make Aansh marry these types of girls. Look at her. No sindoor, no bangles, no jewelry. She doesn't even look like a newly married bride."
"It was an honest mistake, Dadaji," I said softly. "I was in a hurry and forgot."
"Stop with your excuses! You just married my son for his wealth and name," Gayatri spat.
Tears filled my eyes.
"That's enough, Gayatri," Dadaji raised his voice. "Stop tormenting her for a small mistake."
"Yes, Mother," Ishita added. "Kritika and I were with her all morning. We rushed her. That's why she forgot."
"Exactly," Kritika nodded. "It was unintentional."
"Mistake, my foot," Gayatri snapped. "She's not fit to be a Rathore bahu."
"She is," Dadaji said firmly. "And you'll treat her with respect."
I couldn't take it anymore. I got up and walked away, my eyes stinging.
"Bhabhi!" I heard behind me.
I didn't stop. I reached the room - no, my prison - and locked the door.
My legs gave out. I sank to the floor and let the sobs take over.
I was forced into this marriage, yet they accuse me of trapping Aansh?
He married me and abandoned me. Left me to face the vultures alone.
Tears fell as I clutched the edge of my dupatta, shaking.
"I HATE YOU, AANSH RATHORE!" I screamed into the silence.
And then broke down, completely.