The morning of my wedding arrived in a haze of chaos and traditions I didn't care for.
Women bustled around the room, fussing over the intricate details of my bridal attire, my jewelry, my hair-every little thing that needed to be perfect for my big day.
As if this was some kind of fairy tale. As if this was the day every girl dreamed about.
I sat before the vanity mirror, staring at my reflection as my cousin Misha draped the heavy red and gold dupatta over my head.
"You look breathtaking, Avni." I didn't answer. I didn't feel breathtaking. I felt trapped.
Misha sighed, kneeling beside me. "I know what you're thinking." "Do you?" I muttered, running a finger over the embroidered border of my lehenga.
She gave me a knowing look. "You're thinking about how all of this-this grand wedding, this heavy outfit, these stupid traditions-feel meaningless because you never wanted this marriage in the first place."
I swallowed hard but said nothing. Because she was right.
Misha's gaze softened. "Avni, I won't sit here and tell you this is the best thing that's ever happened to you. But... maybe it won't be the worst either."
I scoffed, shifting uncomfortably as another stylist fixed the bangles on my wrists. "We both know why this is happening. It's a deal. A business transaction between our fathers. There's nothing remotely romantic or meaningful about this."
She hesitated before reaching for my hand. "Maybe not yet. But you're strong, Avni. You never let anyone control you, and I don't think Aditya will be an exception." I clenched my jaw at his name.
Aditya.
The arrogant bastard who had somehow wormed his way into my life like an unavoidable storm. He was everything I despised-cold, calculating, entitled. And now, he was about to become my husband.
The word itself felt like a joke.
"Just get through today," Misha whispered, squeezing my hand. "And then, you'll figure out the rest." I took a deep breath, forcing the lump in my throat to disappear.
Today, I wasn't Avni Rajput, the independent woman who built her own life. Today, I was just someone's bride.
As the wedding hour approached, the preparations intensified. The stylists fixed the final details-adjusting my maang tikka, placing the gold kaleerein around my wrists, ensuring every piece of jewelry sat perfectly.
My reflection was unrecognizable. The girl in the mirror was regal, draped in the finest silk, adorned in gold, her eyes lined with kohl and lips painted deep red.
She looked like a queen. She felt like a prisoner.
The sounds of dhol and shehnai music echoed from the venue outside, the celebrations already in full swing. I knew what was happening outside.
Aditya would be arriving, the baraat in all its grandeur, with music and dancing, the crowd celebrating the man who would soon be my husband.
I wondered if he even cared about any of this.
Would he be smirking in that infuriating way of his, enjoying the attention?
Would he be bored out of his mind, wishing this was over already?
Or... would he be thinking about me?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn't matter.
Nothing about this day was about us. It was about duty, family, business. I had no choice but to play my part.
"Avni, it's time," my father's voice came from the doorway. I turned to see him standing there, dressed in a grand sherwani, looking prouder than I had seen him in years.
He was beaming. Like he had won something. Like handing me over to Aditya was some kind of victory.
I forced a smile, nodding. "Let's get this over with." Misha and my other cousins helped me stand, the weight of the lehenga heavier than I expected.
Or maybe it wasn't the fabric weighing me down. Maybe it was the reality of what was about to happen.
As I walked toward the mandap, the crowd parted, eyes turning toward me with admiration. People whispered about how beautiful the bride looked, how graceful she was, how lucky Aditya was to have her.
Lucky? I wanted to laugh. But then, my eyes found him.
Aditya stood at the mandap, dressed in an ivory sherwani with gold embroidery, looking every bit the powerful, arrogant man I had come to know.
For a moment, his gaze met mine. And for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that I wasn't expecting.
He wasn't smirking. He wasn't amused. He was... staring.
As if he was seeing me for the first time.
As if, for just a second, the arrogance had slipped away, and he had felt something. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickly looked away.
Whatever moment had just passed between us-I wasn't ready to acknowledge it. Because after today, we wouldn't be just two people at war with each other.
We would be husband and wife.
And that was a battle I wasn't prepared to fight.
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