Chapter 10: Chapter 7

Noorie

Noorie was gathering her things, ready to leave the room, when her phone buzzed. A notification lit up the screen—Raghav’s name. A WhatsApp message.

Raghav:

How long are you going to ignore me? I told you, bhaiya will help us. Just wait a bit more. Of course, he just got married—we can’t sponsor another wedding in the same month. But at least I tried. Unlike you...

Noorie read the message and clenched her jaw. She could tolerate many things, but those last two words stung. Her irritation surged as she quickly typed a response, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Noorie:

Unlike me???? Raghav, I’ve waited for years....Girls here don’t get this luxury of time....I should’ve been married by now. You promised me, Raghav! And look at you—enjoying your brother’s stupid wedding while my life is stuck. I can’t wait anymore. Goodbye.

She hit send and tossed the phone onto her bed. Noorie wasn’t crying or devastated; instead, a sly smile crept across her face.

“This will make you work harder, Raghav,” she muttered, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “You’ll either convince your family or lose the only person you have.”

She stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, letting her thoughts swirl.

Noorie wasn’t just beautiful—she was cunning. To anyone who saw her, she was sweet, charming, and irresistible. But beneath the surface, she was ambitious and calculating. Raghav wasn’t just a boyfriend to her; he was the ticket to the luxurious lifestyle she craved.

Their two-year relationship had been smooth until she started pressuring him for marriage. She wanted more than love; she wanted security, status, and comfort. Raghav, blinded by affection, failed to notice how transactional their relationship had become.

Noorie rose from her bed and stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair. Her reflection stared back with confidence.

“You have to marry me, Raghav,” she whispered. “I didn’t waste two years on you for nothing. You owe me the life I deserve, and I will get it.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

“Talking to yourself again, Nu?”

Noorie turned to see Megha, her roommate and self-proclaimed best friend.

“What do you want, Megha?” Noorie snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy planning my future while you’re still living in your small-town bubble?”

“Raghav again?” Megha teased. “I’m guessing he hasn’t spoken to his family yet?”

Noorie’s lips twitched with irritation. “He will, and when he does, I’ll have everything I dreamed of. Now go away.”

But Megha lingered, a mischievous grin on her face. “You know, I might have a plan that could help…”

"Then tell me you witch". After listening to her Noorie couldn't believe herself. The plan looked dangerous but exciting.

And then, she sank into her bed, the dim light of her room casting shadows on her scheming smile. She closed her eyes, already imagining the life she would build.

Meanwhile, the lights of Desai Paradise blazed brightly, illuminating the grand welcome of a new bride. Urmi hesitated at the threshold, overwhelmed by the opulence before her.

“Kick this pot and enter your new home,” Mrs. Desai instructed, her voice warm but firm.

She hesitated, awestruck by the grandeur of the house. The mansion was nothing short of a palace, its marble floors and crystal chandeliers gleaming in the evening light.

Mr. Desai handed her a velvet box. “Welcome to our family. This is a gift—a designer necklace. It cost 20 lakhs, though more than your worth but I thought it might suit you.”

She glanced at her now husband, Vasu, unsure of how to react and accept it.

“Thank you, Dad,” she said carefully, masking her discomfort. “I’ll cherish this forever.”

But as Mr. Desai hugged her, he whispered in her ear, his tone icy.

“Fatherless girls like you should learn to be grateful. You’ll adjust to our ways soon enough.”

Urmi’s breath hitched. She froze, her mind reeling from the insult. Losing her father as a child had been a wound she thought she’d healed. But Mr. Desai’s words cut deep.

"You’re stronger than you think, my little star," Urmi remembers her father's line. But her internal thoughts scared her. This isn’t a home; it’s a battlefield. Every step here feels like walking on a tightrope, where one misstep can send me plummeting. How do I stay true to myself when I’m expected to be someone else entirely? Dad, you taught me to be strong, but is this what strength looks like?

Raghav, standing at a distance, observed the exchange. He clenched his fists, knowing exactly what had happened. His father had a knack for delivering subtle yet devastating blows.

Unable to stand by, he approached Urmi and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Bhabhi?” he asked softly.

Seeing his concern and support helped Urmi in forcing a smile. “Oh, Raghav, I’m just missing my family.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Raghav said, his voice steady. “You’re part of this family now, and I’m here if you ever need anything.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you, Raghav. I appreciate it.”

But as the family celebration continued, Raghav’s mind wandered. His phone buzzed in his pocket—another message from Noorie.

Noorie:

Raghav, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you like that. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Let’s forget the big wedding. We can get married in court. I just need you. Please do something soon.

Raghav read the message twice, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe her sincerity, but doubt lingered.

“Does she really love me, or is this just another game?” he murmured. “What if I walk away, and there’s nothing left? She says she’s my only support, and maybe she’s right. If not her, who else would stand by me?

His thoughts were interrupted by another notification.

Siya Singhania has requested to follow you on Instagram.

Raghav’s heart skipped a beat. His fingers hovered over his phone, hesitation clouding his judgment.

“What is wrong with me?” he muttered, his pulse racing.

The image of Siya’s smile flashed in his mind, and for the first time in weeks, he felt something stir—something he couldn’t name.