After fifteen days, Vikrant returned from Singapore and was quickly swept back into work. Days slipped by like autumn leaves, quiet and unnoticed, one after another, as he moved through them on autopilot.
After a month ~
The wedding functions began in full swing. Everyone else seemed caught up in the excitement, rushing from one celebration to the next. But for me, nothing felt joyful. There was a heavy stone pressing against my chest, tightening with every passing moment, making it hard to breathe or smile.
Tomorrow, the real ceremonies will start and we are heading to Delhi, just as my future mother-in-law demanded. The thought only made the weight grow heavier.
{Vikrant was already in Delhi with his parents.}
The next day ~
We took the morning flight to Delhi and finally landed by evening. I was completely drained. The moment I stepped into my hotel room, I didn’t even bother to change or eat. I just collapsed onto the bed, the exhaustion crashing over me like a tidal wave. Within seconds, sleep claimed me an escape from the heaviness I couldn’t shake.
Around 4 a.m., Saanvi came into my room carrying a yellow lehenga. I wasn’t really feeling awake yet too tired to even move.
She smiled and said, “Di, I’ll help you out. Just go take a bath first. I’ll be waiting.”
I nodded quietly and made my way to the bathroom, still half in a daze.
I turned on the shower, and the hot water poured over me, carrying away every trace of exhaustion that clung to my body. It wasn’t just the physical tiredness it felt like the warmth was trying to wash away the weight pressing down on my heart.
After the bath, I wrapped the soft bathrobe tightly around myself and stepped in front of the mirror. My eyes locked with my own reflection, but all I could see was a girl caught between past and present, carrying memories too heavy to forget.
I closed my eyes and lifted my face toward the ceiling, resting my hands on the sink. Suddenly, my mind drifted back to that night my mother holding me close, her arms a safe harbor. She was telling my brother and me the story of the prince and the princess, her voice weaving a fragile thread of comfort.
That night was my last with her. The next day, as we were on our way to go somewhere, a truck slammed into our car, shattering everything I thought I knew.
Staring at my reflection again, tears threatened to fall as I held onto a silent truth a message only my heart could speak: Mom, look.
Your little princess has grown up. I am getting married in few days.
In that quiet moment, I promised her, and myself, that no matter what storms come, I would carry her love with me into every tomorrow.
Tears slid down my cheeks as the memories clawed their way back.
I had been only five years old then, and my brother was just eleven. Why did God take my family from me?
Why was I the only one left alive? The questions had no answers, only the hollow ache they left behind.
They were hazy memories of mine.
I was still lost in those thoughts when a knock echoed against the bathroom door, pulling me back to the present.
“Di? Please hurry up!” Saanvi’s voice came softly from the other side, a thread of warmth tugging me back to reality.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and stepped out of the bathroom. Saanvi was waiting, her gentle hands helping me slip into my clothes. She carefully did my makeup herself because my chachi had decided it was a “waste of money” to hire a makeup artist for a mute girl like me.
I didn’t protest. I stayed quite, calm on the outside, even though inside I was a storm. I was there physically, but not really my mind was far away, my heart burning.
Ever since my father’s death, my chacha ji had taken over his company. I had always known how jealous he was of my father’s success. And sometimes… sometimes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a hand in my father’s accident.
(It was Ishita's point of view. I will try to write like this in future chapters too.)
After about thirty minutes ~
Ishita stood quietly in the room, wrapped in a soft, light yellow lehenga. The fabric seemed to glow gently under the warm light, the delicate embroidery telling its own silent story.
She looked stunning not in a flashy way, but with a calm, effortless beauty that made anyone who saw her pause for a moment. Her eyes held a quiet strength mixed with a touch of nervousness, revealing how unfamiliar she was with this kind of attention.
Though she stood still, there was a grace in her presence that was uniquely hers. In that moment, anyone who looked at her could see not just her beauty, but the layers of courage and heart beneath waiting quietly to shine.
Saanvi’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Ishita. “Wow, Di! You’re looking so pretty!”
Ishita gave a small, shy smile in return.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.
“Wait, Di, let me see who it is,” Saanvi said, moving toward the door.
It was Vidya.
“Is she ready?” Vidya asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer.
She took a quick look at Ishita and nodded, “Thik thak hi lag rahi hai.”
(“She looks alright.”)
She gave a little smirk, then urged, “Chalo ab jaldi se neeche aa jao, gadeya ready hai.”
(“Come on, get down quickly now, the cars are waiting.”)
Ishita and Saanvi made their way downstairs, their footsteps soft but steady. Vidya ji followed close behind, her sharp eyes quietly taking in every detail of Ishita’s appearance.
Outside, the cars gleamed under the sunlight, waiting patiently. They slid inside, the engine’s gentle purr blending with the hum of the busy Delhi streets.
After about thirty minutes, they arrived at Raj Mahal.
A grand venue known for its lavish weddings and celebrations.
The building rose majestically, its intricate carvings glowing softly under strings of fairy lights that hung like a shimmering veil over the entrance.
The air was alive with excitement, distant laughter and the gentle strains of traditional music drifting around.
Vikrant ~
Saraswati ji called out, “Vikrant, jaldi karo beta, hame nikalna bhi hai.”
(“Vikrant, hurry up, beta. We need to leave soon.”)
“Coming, Ma,” Vikrant replied as he made his way downstairs.
He was wearing a bright yellow kurta with delicate white threadwork along the collar and cuffs, capturing the festive spirit of the Haldi ceremony.
He paired it with crisp white pajama pants, the contrast of colors both simple and striking.
His traditional beige mojari shoes completed the look.
With tousled hair and a relaxed and calm face, he embodied the perfect blend of tradition and ease.
Saraswati ji smiled warmly, gently cupping his cheeks,
“Are wah! Mera bacha kitna achha dikh raha hai.”
(“Wow! You’re looking so good my child.”)
Varun, standing behind them, muttered with a hint of jealousy, “Meri to koi parwah hi nahi karta, aakhir sautela beta jo hoon main aapka!”
(“No one cares about me, after all I am your step son!”)
Saraswati ji turned to Varun, grabbed his ears playfully, and said, “Oh, my little one, you’re the most special to me! And don't you dare to say that again! Understood?”
Then she looked back at Vikrant and said, “We should get going now; we’re running late.”
They arrived at 8:00 a.m.~
The morning sun casting a soft golden glow over the gathering. Both families exchanged warm greetings smiles, handshakes, and polite nods filled the air as the initial tension slowly eased.
After a while, as everyone settled into a comfortable rhythm, the Haldi ceremony was about to begin.
Vikrant and Ishita took their seats, positioned side by side but separated by a deliberate distance of two meters.
Between them stood a large, carefully tied cloth stretched across a sturdy pole a vibrant barrier that blocked their view of one another.
The cloth fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, a silent reminder of ancient customs.
The pandit had instructed Saraswati ji firmly: before the wedding day, the bride and groom must not see each other.
Saraswati ji smiled gently and said, “Beta, remove your kurta, time to begin the haldi.”
Vihaan, grinning mischievously, added in a teasing tone,
“Bro, finally woh din aa hi gaya jab tu public mein apni body flex karega! Aaj dikha de apna jalwa!”
(“Bro, finally the day has come to flex your body in public! Show your swag today!”)
Vikrant let out a soft breath, stood up calmly, and removed his kurta in one smooth motion.
His upper body was a masterpiece of discipline sharp collarbones, sculpted arms, and a lean chest with defined veins running across his neck and biceps.
His six-pack abs tensed slightly as he sat back down, the golden morning light casting soft shadows across his skin.
Saraswati ji looked at him, half-amused, half-emotional, and laughed softly, “You’ve grown up, my child.”
There was a faint blush on her face, a mix of motherly pride and the sweet ache of time passing too fast.
One by one, Vikrant’s family stepped forward to apply haldi on him, each moment filled with warmth and laughter.
Saraswati ji went first, her hands gently smearing the bright yellow paste on her son’s cheeks and shoulders, her eyes misting with pride.
Then came his father, who patted Vikrant’s back affectionately before placing the haldi with quiet dignity.
Finally, Varun stepped forward, grinning ear to ear, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
As he applied the haldi to Vikrant’s arms, he leaned closer and said in a teasing voice,
“Bhai, dhyan se… kahin bhabhi aapke Vikrant body aur dolo & sholo ko dekh ke darr na jaaye!”
(“Bhai, be careful… what if bhabhi gets scared seeing your huge body?” 😄)
Vikrant didn’t say a word. He simply turned his head and shot Varun a cold, dreadful gaze that wiped the smirk right off his face for a moment, at least.
Then came Vihaan. His usual playfulness was there, but his voice carried a quiet warmth as he said,
“I hope you live a happy life with your wife, bhai. I hope that not all the women are the same."
Vikrant’s expression shifted. He leaned in slightly, his voice low, almost a whisper only Vihaan could hear,
“You still think about her?”
Vihaan paused for a second. The smile on his face faltered but didn’t disappear completely.
“Pyaar kiya tha, bhai... kaise bhool jaaun?” he said with a soft chuckle.
“Saale, tu toh kehta tha kabhi shaadi nahi karega… mere saath hi rahega, brahmacharya ka paalan karega. Ab kahaan gaya wo Vikrant, huh?”
(“I loved her, bhai… how can I forget?”)
(“You idiot, you used to say you’d never get married… that you’d stay with me forever, living like a saint. So tell me where did that Vikrant go, huh?”)
Vikrant didn’t reply. He knew exactly what Vihaan had gone through after his heartbreak-the silence, the anger, the nights he didn’t sleep.
Instead of words, Vikrant just offered a small, understanding smile and looked toward his mother.
Vihaan nudged him lightly. “Chal chal, samajh gaya. Bas khush reh,”
(“Alright, alright, I get it. Just stay happy, okay?”)
He said, his voice soft but affectionate. Then, letting out a dramatic sigh, he added teasingly, “Ab toh apni wifey ka chamcha banna hi padega! Aur main toh free hu aabhi bhi!”
(“Now you’ll have to be your wifey’s little sidekick! And me? I’m still free!”)
As he bent down to apply haldi to Vikrant’s legs, Vikrant leaned in and muttered under his breath with a smirk,
“Bhag yahaan se.”
(“Get lost!”)
Vihaan burst into a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Their banter, hidden beneath the surface of rituals, spoke volumes about the bond they shared-one of teasing, understanding, and unspoken care.
On the other side, Ishita was in a similar state, with Sia and Saanvi playfully teasing her, trying to lighten the mood.
One by one, everyone applied haldi to both Ishita and Vikrant. The laughter, the teasing, and the yellow colour of haldi filled the air with joy and anticipation.
After about two hours, the haldi ceremony concluded.
Both families then prepared to depart, carrying with them a renewed sense of unity and anticipation for the upcoming celebrations.
Ishita~
Ishita came back home and after removing her clothes she sank into the warm embrace of the bath, letting the soothing water wash away the exhaustion of the day.
Each drop felt like a gentle caress, melting the heaviness that weighed on her limbs and spirit. The scent of jasmine from the bath oils filled the air, calming her restless mind.
As the water trickled down, she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of emotions and events.
The warmth seeped into her skin, unraveling the knots of tension that had built up over hours of ceremonies, laughter, and silent thoughts.
She lingered under the water, as if trying to hold onto this brief sanctuary before stepping back into the reality waiting outside the bathroom door.
Slowly, she lifted her head, droplets glistening on her eyelashes, and wrapped herself in a soft, white towel.
For a moment, standing in front of the mirror, she allowed herself a faint smile, before moving to her bed. Sleep claimed her almost instantly, pulling her into dreams where the day’s chaos faded into quiet comfort.
Vikrant ~
Vikrant returned home, traces of haldi still lingering on his skin. He headed straight to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash over him, standing there for a while as if trying to wash away all the exhaustion of the day. After changing his clothes, he sank onto the sofa, the weariness clearly visible in his eyes.
He picked up a book to keep himself occupied, but the fatigue was too deep. The book slipped from his hands, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep without even reading a single page.
The long, tiring day of haldi preparations had completely drained him.
Thankyou so much for reading! 🙏
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Naina.writz
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