The night before the wedding week began, Aarshika lay awake, staring at the ceiling fan as it sliced the air in slow, uneven circles. Each rotation felt like another second slipping away—another moment pulling her closer to something she hadn't fully chosen.
Outside her room, life continued loudly.
Her mother sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting jewellery into velvet boxes—gold clinking softly like it was impatient to be worn. Aunties hovered nearby, voices overlapping as they debated décor themes, flower arrangements, and which cousin would cry the most during the vidai.
Pink or peach.
Roses or orchids.
Live band or DJ.
No one asked how the bride was feeling.
Aarshika felt like a side character in her own wedding—present in the frame, yet oddly replaceable.
She turned to her side, pulling the sheet closer, and whispered into the quiet meant only for herself.
"I hope I'm doing the right thing."
The ceiling didn't answer.
The fan didn't pause.
The night didn't soften.
Her mind, restless and heavy, drifted backward—pulled by a memory that still ached in unexpected places.
Flashback
It had been a humid Thursday evening when Daksh dragged her to CP, ignoring all her protests. The city buzzed with its usual chaos—horns, footsteps, distant laughter—but Aarshika walked beside him with narrowed eyes, clutching her office tote like a shield.
"Kaha le ja rahe ho?" she asked, already irritated. "I'm tired. I just want to go home."
"Bas… aa jao na," Daksh said, not looking at her. "And don't be mad. Please."
Her brows knit together.
"That sentence always means you've done something extremely stupid."
He swallowed but didn't deny it.
They stopped outside a café she'd never noticed before—small, warm lights glowing behind glass windows. And right there, near the entrance, stood a girl.
Soft curls framed her face.
Her smile was polite but unsure.
Her fingers twisted together like she was holding her breath.
"Hi… Aarshika di?" the girl asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Aarshika turned slowly.
Her gaze moved from the girl… to Daksh.
"Di?" she repeated, disbelief dripping into the single word.
Daksh inhaled sharply, like he'd been underwater for too long.
"This is… Rhea. My girlfriend."
The world didn't collapse.
It simply… stilled.
Aarshika stared at him.
Then at Rhea.
Then back at him.
Her mouth opened, closed, then finally—
"Since when?"
Daksh's voice came out small.
"Two years."
"TWO—Daksh!" Her voice cracked despite herself.
Rhea stepped forward immediately, panic flashing in her eyes.
"Didi, please don't be angry. He wanted to tell you long back. But your marriage talks were… tense. We didn't want to add pressure."
Only if they knew how much pressure already lived inside her.
Daksh rubbed his face, frustration and guilt bleeding into his expression.
"I… I couldn't talk about it," he said hoarsely. "Your marriage talks meant more pressure on you. And I didn't want you to feel like you were coming between us… when you weren't."
Aarshika went completely silent.
Her younger brother—her loud, stubborn, reckless brother—had paused his entire future because of her.
And she—without ever knowing—had become the weight holding him back.
Guilt tightened around her chest, sharp and unforgiving.
She swallowed hard.
Forced herself to breathe.
Forced a smile.
"Rhea seems lovely, Daksh."
The relief on his face was instant—so raw it almost hurt to witness. His smile trembled, eyes glossy. Rhea's shoulders sagged as if she'd finally been allowed to breathe, gratitude shining openly in her eyes.
Aarshika smiled back.
They chatted and enjoyed the evening.
But something inside her cracked quietly—like a glass hairline fracture no one notices until it shatters later.
Maybe… just maybe, she thought, my decision will give someone else a happily ever after.
Maybe that was why, weeks later, she finally said yes.
The Functions
Engagement
The engagement hall glittered unapologetically—lights bouncing off sequins, laughter echoing off marble floors, music loud enough to drown out private thoughts.
Vivaan moved through the crowd like a sparkler—bright, energetic, charming. He greeted relatives Aarshika didn't know, hugged friends she'd never met, laughed easily.
She stood beside him like a quiet photograph someone forgot to frame properly.
Twice, he forgot to introduce her.
Once, he did introduce her—but walked away before she could finish a sentence.
It wasn't malicious.
Just careless.
Later in the evening,They exchanged rings.
They were beautiful.
Hers held a large diamond at the centre, surrounded by seven smaller ones—bright, perfect, impossible to ignore.
His was a simple platinum band, lined with a few tiny diamonds, exactly how he had wanted it.
Minimalism had always been her taste.Still, the ring was pretty… she told herself that was enough.
As it slid onto her finger, she felt its weight.
Not just metal and stone—but meaning.
Expectation.
A new responsibility settling quietly into place.
A new chapter had begun.
Later One of his cousin smirked at her.
"Corporate? Excel sheets? Must be boring, yaar."
Aarshika turned toward him, her expression calm but unflinching.
"Not boring. Essential. The world runs on data. You just don't see it."
The cousin froze, smile dying mid-air.
Vivaan laughed awkwardly.
"Arey relax, he was joking—"
"I wasn't laughing," she said softly.
Silence followed. Thick. Uncomfortable.
Someone hurriedly changed the topic.
Vivaan didn't notice.
Mehendi
This one, she'd actually been looking forward to.
Soft designs crawling up her hands.
Laughter.
The earthy smell of henna.
But just as the artist approached, cone in hand, Vivaan walked in cheerfully.
"Oye, she won't get mehendi," he announced casually. "You know na, I hate the smell. Headache ho jata hai."
The artist paused mid-step.
Her cousins exchanged confused looks.
Aarshika blinked.
"Why… does it matter if I wear it?"
Vivaan shrugged.
"It'll bother me the whole night. Chalo na, it's fine. Minimal bride look bhi trendy hai."
"But i love it...it's pattern...it's smell.Its my wedding too"
She snapped back being done with everyone telling her this or that
Before he could reply.
Her mother leaned closer, voice gentle.
"Beta… koi baat nahi. Shaadi ke baad laga lena."
Aarshika stared at her hands.
Bare.
Empty.
On her own mehendi day.
No one asked if she wanted it.
She swallowed hard.
"Of course. It's fine."
Her fist clenched.
It wasn't.
But she wanted peace, not chaos.
Sangeet
The night was loud with music and laughter.
Vivaan danced like the floor belonged to him. His massive friend group jumped around, clicked pictures, shouted lyrics off-key.
They forgot to include her in a group photo.
No one noticed.
Aarshika adjusted her dupatta and smiled politely.
She didn't feel sad.
She felt… absent.
Like a guest watching her own life from the sidelines.
She video called her friend Dhwani and they both laughed at nothing and everything. She missed her as she could not attend due to her mom's bad health.
For the first time, she wished she could run away—or wake up from this strangely vivid dream.
Something was wrong.
Her heart knew it.
Haldi
Morning sunlight spilled into the courtyard, golden and warm. The smell of turmeric mixed with flowers and laughter, though not all of it felt joyful to Aarshika.
Her mother dabbed haldi on her cheeks lovingly.
"Beta, don't move too much."
Aarshika nodded, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Cousins ran around, smearing turmeric on anyone within reach. Vivaan laughed loudly from a corner, dodging his friends' attempts.
"Come on, di! Let's do something fun!" someone shouted.
She let them smear a little turmeric on her arms.
She smiled.
But her eyes drifted—again and again—toward Vivaan, laughing like he owned the morning.
No one asked if she wanted to play.
No one noticed when she stayed still.
Even surrounded by joy, she felt like a shadow.
Her mind has become a storm and she was drowning it.
The Night Before
Her room looked like a jewellery shop had exploded.
Sarees. Lehengas. Bangles everywhere.
Her mother argued about dupatta pleats.
Aunties debated lipstick shades.
Daksh hovered protectively.
Aarshika stared at her reflection—eyes tired, smile practiced.
All the functions.
All the expectations.
All the compromises.
Vivaan's laughter echoed somewhere in her imagination.
And then—a name.
Aadhrik.
Quiet.
Unassuming.
Absent.
Just a name.
Yet it felt like a pause in a world moving too fast.
The Wedding Day
Her maroon lehenga was heavy—beautiful, suffocating.
Jewellery felt like armour.
Her family surrounded her with love.
And still, a hush lived inside her.
As if destiny waited behind the door.
As if something was about to change everything.
Her wedding day had begun.
And she had no idea—
it wouldn't end the way everyone expected.