Sia was in her room, drowning in her own tears.
Her vision was blurred. She couldn't even see the evening sunlight slipping through the window and touching her light brown skin. In her trembling hands was an old photo frame, its edges worn, the memories inside far too sharp.
After a few minutes, she wiped her tears and looked at herself in the mirror.
A 21-year-old girl stared back. Black wavy curls fell till her elbows. Her eyes were red—raw, exhausted—yet painfully beautiful. The sunlight made her skin glow, but her face looked like that of a child who had been denied something she desperately needed.
"Sia… Sia… where are you, beta?"
"Coming, Aunty," she replied, her voice barely steady.
She rushed to the bathroom and splashed water on her face again and again, hoping it would wash away the heaviness in her chest. When she looked into the mirror once more, the redness remained.
She wiped her face and walked downstairs.
"What took you so long?"
"Nothing. I was arranging my room," she said, fixing the plates on the dining table, careful not to meet her aunt's eyes.
"Mumma! Mumma! What's for dinner?" Neeraj asked, excitement lighting up his face.
"Your Sia didi made your favourite—butter paneer."
"Right, Sia?"
Sia forced a smile and nodded.
"Thank you, Sia didi!"
She served him and stood aside, watching him and her aunty take the first bite.
"Wow! This is amazing. I can't get enough of it!"
Then Neeraj hesitated.
"It's sad you're going to someone else's house soon. Mumma, why can't Sia didi stay with us a little longer?"
Her aunty sighed softly.
"Beta, she's a girl. This is the age to get married and have kids. She'll come once a year."
She turned to Sia.
"Right, Sia beta?"
Sia nodded, her throat tightening. Afraid her tears would fall, she excused herself to bring more roti.
When she returned, her uncle had just come back from work and taken his seat.
"Sia, bring water for Uncle," her aunty said.
She handed him the glass.
"The groom's side has fixed the wedding date," Mahesh said casually.
"Next month. On the 29th."
"So many arrangements… invitations… responsibilities."
Something inside Sia cracked.
Her tears spilled openly now. Without a word, she turned and ran upstairs.
"Oh, Sia," her uncle muttered.
"Let her be," her aunty said. "It's normal before marriage."
Sia locked her room and collapsed.
How could she tell them she didn't want this? That she wasn't ready? She stayed silent, bound by obligation. After her parents died, they were the ones who raised her, fed her, gave her shelter.
She clutched her parents' photo tightly.
"Why did you leave me alone, Mumma… Papa?"
"It feels like my life is being tied forever. I don't want to marry a stranger. I want to be independent. I want to be free."
"Mumma, Papa!" she screamed, pulling her hair.
"Come back… or take me with you."
Her phone rang.
In the dark room, one name lit up the screen—Arjun.
Her heart jumped. She answered instantly.
"Where were you? Why aren't you picking up my calls?"
"You don't know what I'm facing right now! Say something!"
There was a pause.
Then a female voice spoke, calm and cold.
"Arjun will never return your call."
Sia froze.
"Who are you?"
"Where is Arjun?"
"Is he fine?"
"Say something—"
The call disconnected.