26
I wore my golden bridal saree with the deep orange contrast - a beautiful, royal piece handwoven in Banaras silk, the kind every bride dreams of.
The jewellery sparkled perfectly - the heavy choker, long haar, the nath, the maang tikka, and the elegant bangles that jingled faintly every time I moved. I looked every bit the queen today.
But I didn't feel like one.
There was no glow in my eyes. No excitement. Just silence - the kind that echoed too loudly in my chest.
Just then, the door creaked open, and in came my pillars.
"Katha..." Papa breathed, taking a slow step inside, his eyes tearing up just a little.
Behind him were Bhairava bhaiya, Gyan bhaiya, Dyan bhaiya, and of course - my little laddu, Utsav, holding a bouquet in his hand that he probably picked on the way, already half-crushed.
Arya bhabhi stood beside me, adjusting my pallu as she smiled at them. Sheraa yawned lazily from my bed, tail flicking with boredom, unbothered by the emotional storm in the room.
Papa walked up first. "You look like your mother today," he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.
I looked down, blinking quickly.
"Except scarier," Dyan bhaiya added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
"Scarier?" Bhairava bhaiya raised an eyebrow. "She looks like a walking goddess. If Gowtham doesn't faint when he sees her, I'll be shocked."
Gyan bhaiya leaned closer and fake-whispered, "We should bring an oxygen cylinder for the groom."
I finally smiled - a small, tired one - but a smile nonetheless.
"Di..." Utsav walked to me and held my hand, "you'll still be my best friend, right? Even after you become someone's wife?"
That question hit harder than any teasing could. I bent slightly and kissed his forehead. "I'll always be your best friend, laddu. That will never change."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
They all gathered around, and I felt their warmth - the kind that made me feel like no matter what happened next, I was never truly alone. But deep down, I wished there was one more person standing in that room... silent, brooding, stormy-eyed...
No, stop it, I told myself.
Today is about moving forward.
I stood up, squared my shoulders, and looked at all of them.
"Let's go," I said, voice steady. "It's time."
I walked down the stairs, dressed like a bride - golden-orange saree shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the mansion's grand windows.
My jewellery clinked softly with each step.
My face was emotionless, my heart numb, but my steps firm.
One by one, my brothers appeared beside me - Bhairava bhaiya to my right, Gyan and Dyan flanking either side, and Papa gently holding my hand, steadying me.
Arya bhabhi walked just a little behind, holding Sheraa close in her arms - the little snow leopard cub watching everything with his fierce little eyes.
It felt like a dream - not the good kind, but the kind where you're screaming, but no one hears.
We reached the mandap. Flowers, incense, and chanting filled the air, yet none of it reached me. My body moved on its own. I sat down in front of the sacred fire, adjusting my saree silently.
And then my eyes lifted - drawn like a magnet.
There he was.
Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
Sitting there, just a few feet away.
Wearing a regal cream sherwani. Stoic. Cold. Yet something in his eyes screamed.
Our gazes locked - painfully. It was like the whole world froze for that moment. He looked straight at me, unblinking. No mask. No wall. Just raw, brutal emotion hidden beneath those damn eyes.
I swallowed and broke the eye contact the moment I heard the priest.
"Call the groom," the pandit said.
Gowtham's family nodded and left to call him.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Five minutes.
Whispers began.
My family's expression shifted from composed to confused, then to deeply concerned.
"Where is he?" Bhairava bhaiya muttered.
"Maybe stuck in traffic?" Gyan bhaiya said, but he didn't believe it.
Utsav fidgeted restlessly beside Arya bhabhi, who was visibly getting anxious.
Finally, Gowtham's father walked up to us, flustered, sweating.
"I... I'm really sorry," he began, his voice shaking. "Gowtham... he... well..."
He paused, avoiding Papa's eyes.
"He ran away."
The words dropped like a bomb.
There was silence.
Stunned, suffocating silence.
The priest stopped chanting. The murmurs turned into loud gasps across the venue. Some of the guests looked between each other in utter shock. A few tried not to stare at me.
But I sat still. Frozen.
Not shocked. Not broken.
Just... blank.
Because deep down, somewhere, I had always known...
This wedding was never meant to happen.
And then it happened - chaos exploded like wildfire.
"He what?!" Dyan bhaiya roared, grabbing Gowtham's father by the collar, his voice enough to shake the entire venue. "You think you can walk in here and just say he ran away?"
Gyan bhaiya's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, and Bhairava bhaiya stood completely still, his entire aura lethal - not moving, not blinking. That's when he was the most dangerous.
I, meanwhile, sat there... blank. Still in the mandap, the sacred fire crackling in front of me like nothing happened.
Arya bhabhi rushed to me, her eyes full of tears as she knelt beside me. "Bacha... say something," she whispered, her hand cupping my cheek, but I didn't respond.
Utsav, my sweet ladla, quietly took my hand and held it tight. His eyes - always so bright - were glassy. He looked ready to cry, but for me, he stayed strong.
And beside him, Sheraa - growling low, his little body tensed, tail lashing. The moment someone tried stepping closer, he hissed like he'd tear them apart.
"Move everyone out!" Bhairava bhaiya ordered. "This wedding is over."
The guests began to leave, but the whispers didn't stop. I could hear them.
"Gowtham ran away?"
"She must have done something."
"Poor girl..."
But I didn't flinch.
I didn't cry.
I didn't even blink.
Because something inside me had finally snapped. Not in anger. Not in pain.
But in clarity.
I wasn't meant to be someone else's wife.
And for the first time... I wasn't afraid to admit who I did want.
And he had been sitting in the same damn room... watching it all happen.
The world around me was noise.
Cruel words. Ruthless stares. Whispers like blades cutting into me from every direction.
"Must've been her attitude..."
"This is what happens when you're too arrogant."
"No wonder the groom ran..."
But I sat there, motionless.
The sacred fire still crackled in front of me. The flowers still smelled the same. My saree still sparkled in the golden sunlight. Sheraa growled protectively beside me from Arya bhabhi's lap, while Utsav's hand clutched mine tighter, silently sobbing.
My Bhairava bhaiya stood stiffly like a ticking bomb, Gyan and Dyan bhaiya ready to kill. Papa's hands were clenched into fists, his face pale from the humiliation. Arya bhabhi kept whispering, "Say something, Katha. Please say something..."
But I didn't.
Because in that moment, I did the one thing I had refused to do all these days.
I looked at him.
At Dattatriya Agnivanshi.
The man who had wrecked me.
And the man I still belonged to.
He stood there in his cream sherwani, his expression unreadable. But his eyes - they weren't cold anymore. They were filled with something fierce... determined.
And then...
He moved.
He took a step forward. Then another. Then another.
Until he stood right in front of me.
My brothers tensed. My papa stepped forward protectively. Everyone held their breath.
"Marry me."
The words dropped like thunder in the silent hall. Gasps. Shocked murmurs. My bhaiyas stared at him as if he'd gone insane. Even Papa's expression twisted in disbelief. The guests who had begun leaving halted midway, turning around in stunned silence.
I blinked slowly.
"But you don't want to 'ruin' me," I said coldly, sarcastically, my voice laced with every ounce of pain he had made me feel.
But he didn't flinch.
He looked at me like I was the only person in the universe. "Marry me, Katha," he repeated, his voice raw. "I promise I'll never push you away again. Never. Not even once."
The room held its breath.
And for a moment, so did I.
And then -
I nodded.
Not with joy. Not with a smile.
But with a blank face.
Because my heart still ached... and I hadn't healed.
But I knew...
He was the only one I'd ever love.
Dattatriya turned, walked up to my father, and folded his hands. "I know you have every reason to hate me, but let me make this right," he said. His voice carried not arrogance... but guilt. Sincerity. Love.
Papa didn't speak. He just looked at me.
And for the first time that day...
I met my father's eyes.
I didn't speak.
But he saw everything.
Every wound.
Every tear.
Every truth I couldn't say.
And slowly, my papa nodded.
The Agnivanshi and the Choudhurys...
Were about to become one.
As I sat silently on the mandap, the weight of a thousand emotions sat on my chest like stone - but my face showed nothing. Not pain. Not joy. Just silence.
My brothers had taken Dattatriya away minutes ago, the air around them thick with unspoken questions and protective instincts.
No one knew what had just shifted - only that the impossible had happened: Dattatriya Agnivanshi, the man who had once pushed me away, had returned. .. and asked to marry me.
The guests were still murmuring, confused and electrified.
And then - the drums began again.
I lifted my gaze.
There he was.
Walking toward me, dressed in a regal black-and-gold sherwani, the deep black stole trailing like fire behind him. His walk was calm but sharp - like a storm that had chosen to be gentle. His eyes didn't leave mine.
And beside him walked his sister, the infamous Adya Agnivanshi.
She looked exactly as she did in the news - elegant, distant, untouchable. But right now, there was no ice in her expression. Just subtle pride and something softer... something almost protective.
Everyone around us whispered - guests, relatives, media personnel who had sneaked in. They stared at him like a ghost had come alive, a man born from mythology walking into fire.
As he approached the mandap, my heart should have raced.
It didn't.
Because deep inside, I already knew.
This moment - this man - had always been mine.
He stood just a few feet away, pausing near the stairs to the mandap.
That's when Arya bhabhi, standing beside me, leaned close to adjust the edge of my veil, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
And in a whisper meant only for me, she said:
"The plan worked."
I didn't speak.
I didn't even nod.
But as Dattatriya took his final step toward me - his eyes only on mine -
I smirked. Just a small, dangerous, victorious smirk.
Only Arya bhabhi saw it.
And she smiled like a devil beside a queen.
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