Chapter 6

The days leading to my wedding passed in a strange blur, filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. Veeranshu and I hadn't spoken much since our meeting at the café. Apart from a couple of curt texts asking if I needed anything for the wedding, he had remained distant—polite but detached.

"Do you need anything for the wedding? Let me know."

The message was short and impersonal, like a business email. I responded politely each time, saying I didn't need anything, though his effort to check in was appreciated.

It was clear that this marriage wasn't going to be built on romance, at least not initially. And while I hadn't expected grand gestures, the silence between us made me wonder what kind of life awaited me after the wedding.

Initially, my uncle and aunt were dissatisfied with the news of my marriage. They had wanted me to marry Sameer, who they believed would bring them personal gain through his shady business deals. When I had told them I was marrying someone else, they were furious—until they learned who Veeranshu Mehra was.

Their reactions shifted overnight.

"Veeranshu Mehra?" my aunt had exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with greed. "The businessman? Tara, you didn't tell us he was that Veeranshu Mehra!"

From that moment on, their attitude changed completely. They suddenly became the doting family, showering me with exaggerated affection and pretending to care about my happiness. It was all so transparent, it made my stomach turn.

Kiara, my younger sister, was perhaps the most vocal about her dissatisfaction. "How did you manage to land someone like Veeranshu?" she had said, her tone dripping with jealousy. "He's tall, dusky, handsome, and rich. And you're... well, you."

Her words stung, but I didn't respond. I had long grown used to her sharp tongue and constant comparisons. Kiara had always been my aunt and uncle's favorite, and they never missed an opportunity to remind me of it.

As soon as they realized Veeranshu's wealth and status, my aunt and Kiara began exploiting the situation. Under the guise of wedding rituals, they started demanding gifts—luxury jewelry, expensive handbags, and designer outfits—from Veeranshu's assistant, Naman.

"It's for the kanya daan ceremony," my aunt would insist. "These are traditions. He's marrying into the family, after all!"

Kiara, too, jumped on the bandwagon, claiming that certain rituals required specific gifts for the bride's sister. "It's customary," she would say, flashing a fake smile as she pointed out yet another designer piece.

Their greed embarrassed me deeply. I tried to intervene, but my protests fell on deaf ears. "You're lucky to be marrying someone like Veeranshu," my aunt had snapped. "The least he can do is provide for these rituals. Stop acting ungrateful."

Naman, ever the professional, fulfilled their requests without complaint, but I could see the discomfort in his eyes whenever he handed over the packages.

The night before the wedding, I sat in my room, packing my belongings into two modest suitcases. My life here—what little I had of it—could be condensed into such a small space. I folded my favorite books, a few cherished photographs, and some simple clothes, all the while feeling a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow.

Dadaji came into the room, moving slowly as he always did. He sat down on the bed beside me, his weathered hands trembling slightly as he reached for mine.

"Tara," he said softly, his voice filled with both pride and sorrow. "I can't believe this day has come. My little girl is getting married."

I looked up at him, blinking back tears. "Dadaji, I'm scared," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't know what my life will be like after this. I don't even know him."

He smiled gently, squeezing my hand. "I know, beta. And I won't pretend this is an easy decision. But I've seen enough of life to know a good man when I see one. Veeranshu is a man of his word. He may not shower you with affection right away, but he will respect you. And that's a foundation you can build on."

I nodded, taking comfort in his unwavering faith. "I'll miss you, Dadaji," I said, my voice cracking.

"And I'll miss you," he replied, his eyes glistening. "But you'll always have me, Tara. No matter where you go, you'll always have me."

We sat there for a while, neither of us speaking, just holding onto the moment.

As I finished packing, I couldn't help but think about how much I was leaving behind. My room, though simple, had been my refuge. The quiet evenings spent reading with Dadaji, the occasional laughter shared over old stories—these were the memories I would carry with me.

I glanced at the photo of my parents on the bedside table and whispered a silent prayer. "I hope I'm making the right decision," I said, though I wasn't sure who I was speaking to—my parents, God, or myself.

When Dadaji finally left the room, I sat on the bed, staring at the suitcases. Tomorrow, I would be walking into a new life, one that felt more like a gamble than a promise.

Downstairs, I could hear my aunt and Kiara chattering about the wedding arrangements, their voices loud and animated.

i moved down stairs only to be ambushed by their questions and greed "Did you see the jewelry Veeranshu sent? It's exquisite!" Kiara was saying.

"And the designer lehenga," my aunt added. "You're lucky, Tara. Most girls would kill for a husband like him."

I sighed, their words reminding me of how little they understood. This wasn't a fairy tale or some dream-come-true scenario. This was an arrangement born out of necessity and practicality.

As I lay down that night, I tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling within me. Fear, hope, sadness, and uncertainty—they all mingled together, leaving me restless.

Tomorrow, I would marry a man I barely knew, enter a world I didn't understand, and leave behind the only home I had ever known. It was a bittersweet farewell, filled with both trepidation and the faintest glimmer of possibility.

For better or worse, my life was about to change forever.

A/N PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT