Chapter 5
Armaan
Dadi and I came back from the hospital in silence. The weight of what I had agreed to sat heavy on my chest, making it difficult to breathe properly. As soon as we stepped through the front door, Dadi called for Mamta.
"Mamta, we need to start preparing for a wedding. Tomorrow."
Mamta's eyes widened.
"Tomorrow, Dadi? But that is so soon. We do not have time to arrange anything proper."
Dadi waved her hand dismissively.
"It will be a small ceremony. Just the immediate family. Make the necessary calls. Get the pandit. Prepare the house."
I took Dadi's arm gently and guided her toward her room. She was still weak from the hospital visit, and I could see the exhaustion in her face. Once we reached her bedroom, I helped her sit down on the bed and arranged the pillows behind her back so she could rest comfortably.
"Do not take any stress, Dadi," I said firmly. "You can give instructions from here. Let Mamta and the others handle everything."
She looked up at me, her eyes soft with gratitude and something else I could not quite identify. Relief, maybe. Or hope.
She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Aryan appeared in the doorway, his expression concerned.
"Dadi, are you alright? I heard you were at the hospital."
Dadi smiled at him.
"I am fine, beta. I will be even better once Armaan is married and settled this Sunday."
I felt my jaw clench. I could not help it.
"Aryan, come. Let her rest."
I walked out of the room, and Aryan followed me without question. We went downstairs and straight out the front door. I needed to get out of this house. I needed air. I needed a drink.
"Where are we going?" Aryan asked as I headed toward my car.
"The pub."
He did not argue. He just got into the passenger seat, and I drove us to our usual spot. It was a quiet place, dimly lit and relatively empty on weeknights. Perfect for conversations you did not want anyone else to overhear.
We settled into a corner booth, and I ordered whiskey. Aryan ordered the same.
"So," Aryan said once the drinks arrived. "Are you going to tell me what the hell happened today? Because Dadi mentioned a wedding tomorrow, and last I checked, you were supposed to fix the date for now."
I took a long drink, feeling the burn of alcohol slide down my throat.
Then I told him everything. The visit to Avija's house. The astrologer's prophecy. The ridiculous solution involving marrying a stranger for a year. Sangeetha aunty pulling out her niece's kundali like it was some kind of game card. The argument. Dadi's collapse. The hospital. My agreement.
Aryan listened without interrupting, his expression growing more incredulous with each detail.
When I finished, he just stared at me.
"What kind of solution is that?" he finally said. "That is not a solution. That is insane."
I did not have an answer for him. I did not have any justification. What could I possibly say that would make any of this sound reasonable?
"I know," I said quietly.
"And you agreed to this?"
"Dadi was in a hospital bed, Aryan. Her blood pressure almost killed her. The doctor said any more stress could give her a stroke. What was I supposed to do?"
Aryan leaned back in his seat, shaking his head slowly.
"This is messed up, man. Really messed up."
I finished my first drink and signaled for another. Then another. By the time I was on my fourth drink, my phone buzzed on the table between us.
Avija.
I stared at the screen for a moment before picking up.
"What?" My voice came out harsher than I intended.
"Where are you?" Avija asked. Her tone was cool, detached.
"Does it matter? What do you want?"
"There is no need to be rude, Armaan. I just called to check on you."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Check on me? Really?"
"Yes. And to let you know that I am going to Paris tonight. I have some project work that came up suddenly. I cannot be here while you marry someone else."
I gripped the phone tighter.
"But you can make me marry someone else."
She interrupted before I could continue.
"This is about my life, Armaan."
"So you will destroy somebody else's life instead? What if something happens to her, Avija? What then?"
There was a pause. Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"I do not care if she dies. As long as she clears the path for me."
I could not believe what I was hearing.
"What kind of rubbish are you talking?"
Her voice turned defensive, angry.
"What do you expect from me, Armaan? You know what the result of our marriage would be. You know what would happen to me."
"First of all, I do not believe in these things," I said, my voice rising. "Second, we could have stayed in a relationship. We could have lived together. There was no need to put somebody else's life at stake just to satisfy some astrological nonsense."
"I do not want to live in with you," Avija said sharply. "I want to be a Khanna. I want the world to see me as a Khanna. I want the name, the status, everything that comes with it."
For the first time since I had known her, I felt like I was seeing Avija clearly. Really seeing her. And I realized I did not know her at all.
"I assume you’ll be keeping a separate bedroom from Viya," she added, her voice dropping to a chilling, calculated hum. "I’ll be back in a few days. We can... arrange ourselves then."
Something inside me didn't just snap; it turned to ice.
"Don't ever mistake me for the kind of man who betrays his vows," I said, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.
"You chose this path, Avija. I am not a man who sleeps in the shadows or sneaks behind his wife’s back.
For the next year, keep your distance. I will not compromise Viya's respect—not for you, and not for my own desires.”
I could hear her sharp intake of breath. Her anger flared instantly.
"Do whatever you want, Armaan."
The line went dead.
I set my phone down on the table and finished my drink in one long swallow. The alcohol was starting to make everything feel distant and blurred, which was exactly what I needed right now.
Aryan drove me home later that night. I do not remember much of the ride. I just remember stumbling through the front door and collapsing into bed fully clothed.
The next afternoon arrived far too quickly.
I stood in my room, staring at myself in the mirror. I was dressed in traditional clothes. Cream colored sherwani. I looked like a groom. I felt like a fraud.
Dadi came to check on me, her face glowing with happiness that felt entirely misplaced given the circumstances.
"You look handsome, beta. Are you ready?"
I did not answer. I just followed her downstairs where Aryan and Mamta were waiting. We all got into the car. Ramesh drove us to the Mehra house.
When we arrived, I could see Uncle Vinay and Sangeetha aunty standing near the entrance. There was another man with them, younger, maybe around my age. Uncle introduced him as Puneet, Viya's friend.
Avija was not there. Good. I did not think I could have handled seeing her face right now.
The pandit had already set up the mandap in the center of the living room. It was a small, simple setup. Nothing like the grand wedding I had always imagined I would have.
Dadi’s hand was a firm weight on my shoulder as she guided me toward the mandap. I sank onto the floor, sitting cross-legged in a trance, my gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the havan until they blurred into a golden haze. I wasn't just sitting; I was waiting for a sentence to be carried out.
The pandit’s voice rose in a rhythmic, ancient chant that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of my bones. Then came the command that stopped my heart: "Bring forth the bride."
The silence that followed was broken by a sound so delicate it felt like a dream—the rhythmic, silver chime of payals hitting the marble.
A soft jingle of gold followed, a symphony of jewelry that grew louder with every measured step.
I didn't turn. I didn't move. I simply watched the shadow of her approaching figure stretch across the floor toward mine.
I kept my eyes fixed on the sacred fire burning in front of me.
She sat down beside me. I could sense her presence, feel the rustle of her clothes, smell the faint scent of jasmine.
Uncle Vinay came forward and tied her dupatta and my stole in a knot. It felt heavy. Binding.
The pandit instructed us to stand and take the seven rounds around the fire. I stood mechanically, and she stood with me. We walked around the fire together, her steps hesitant and small beside mine.
With every phera, the pandit’s mantras blurred into a low, rhythmic hum that I tuned out entirely. I moved like a ghost, my spirit detached from my body.
As the seventh round ended and we settled back onto the floor, the air felt thick, charged with the finality of what we had just done. The pandit held out the mangalsutra—the black beads and gold glinting in the firelight like a beautiful shackle.
"Tie it around her neck," he instructed.
I turned toward her, the motion slow and deliberate. And then, the world stopped for the second time in three days.
I froze. The breath left my lungs as if I’d been struck. Those wide, soulful eyes. The curve of her jaw. The way her veil framed a face that had been burned into my subconscious.
It was her. The girl from the elevator. She looks different today, more beautiful, breathtaking. She is going to be my wife? But what was she doing there in my office that day?
"Beta," the pandit’s voice cut through the roar in my ears, sounding like it was coming from miles away. "Tie the mangalsutra. We are waiting.”
I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. My hands moved automatically. I leaned forward and tied the black and gold beaded chain around her neck. My fingers brushed against her skin, and I felt her flinch slightly.
Then I picked up the vermillion and applied it to the parting of her hair. The red powder stood out starkly against her dark hair.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the pandit declared.
It was done.
Uncle and Dadi came forward to bless us. Uncle placed his hand on Viya's head, his eyes filled with something that looked like guilt. Dadi blessed us both with a warm smile.
I noticed Sangeetha aunty had disappeared. She was nowhere to be seen.
"We need to do the vidai now and head home," Dadi said gently.
Viya stood and walked over to her friend Puneet. He hugged her tightly, and I could see him whispering something in her ear. She nodded against his shoulder.
Then she turned to Uncle Vinay. She wrapped her arms around him and began crying. Not quiet tears. Full, body shaking sobs.
"Forgive me, beta," Uncle whispered, his own voice breaking. "Please forgive me."
Viya shook her head against his chest.
"Do not say that, Uncle. Please do not say that."
Watching them felt like intruding on something deeply private. I looked away.
Finally, Dadi gently guided Viya toward the door. We all walked out to the car. Viya sat in the back seat next to me. The space between us felt like a canyon.
Nobody spoke during the drive home. The silence was suffocating.
When we reached the Khanna house, Dadi performed the traditional welcome ritual. She did the aarti, welcoming Viya into the family. Viya touched her feet respectfully.
Once all the rituals were completed, Dadi took Viya upstairs to my room. Our room now, I supposed.
I could not bring myself to follow them. Instead, I went to my study and found Aryan already there, two glasses of whiskey poured and waiting.
We sat in silence for hours. Drinking. Not talking. Just existing in the same space.
Around eleven o'clock, Dadi appeared in the doorway of the study. She looked between Aryan and me, her expression gentle but firm.
"Armaan, you need to go to your room."
I looked up at her.
"What do you expect from me, Dadi? That I will sleep with her?"
Dadi did not take offense. She just walked further into the room and sat down in one of the chairs.
"Viya is your wife now, Armaan. I know there is no love between you. But the relationship you have with her demands respect. And she deserves that much, at the very least."
"That is easy to say after ruining her life," I said bitterly.
Aryan spoke up before Dadi could respond.
"You should go to your room, Armaan. It is not good to keep your bride waiting.
She is new here. She is in a strange house with people she does not know.
At the very least, be present. She needs her husband right now.
Forget why you married her. Just show some human decency for a year—and let the future worry about itself. "
I didn't answer. I know he is right. I looked at him, then at Dadi’s silent, pleading face, and finally at the amber liquid swirling in my glass. The ice clinked—a cold, lonely sound in the quiet study.
I drained the last of the whiskey, the burn in my throat matching the heat behind my eyes. Setting the glass down with a definitive thud, I stood up. Without a word of protest or agreement, I walked out.