I’ve been busy. That’s the excuse I keep giving the Agnihotris whenever I turn down another invitation, another dinner, another reason to sit in a room where every face reminds me of the night my world ended.
But tonight, a knock at the door brought a wedding card from a neighbor’s daughter. Gold-embossed letters, a maroon ribbon, the kind of card families show off. My fingers shook as I held it, and before I could stop myself, the past came rushing back.
The smell of incense, marigolds, and ghee lamps. The chatter of aunties, the laughter of cousins. The way my heart had raced with happiness. And Rahul, always Rahul.
Or at least, the Rahul I thought I knew.
The days before the wedding felt like a dream. The house throbbed with energy, relatives running between shops and decorators, rituals piling on top of rituals. I floated through it, glowing at nothing in particular, smiling at everything.
Rahul seemed different though.
He was always on his phone. At first, I brushed it off. He worked in finance. Of course there would be calls, clients, numbers that refused to wait. But sometimes, when I spoke, he didn’t even look up.
“Rahul?” I teased once, though something in me was uneasy. “Am I already competing with your emails?”
He slipped the phone into his pocket, gave me a smile. “Just work stuff. Boring. You don’t want to know.”
Another time I caught him typing furiously, his face tight.
“Everything okay?” I asked, soft.
For a moment his eyes flickered ,guilt, maybe. Then he softened. “It’s nothing bad. Actually, it’s a surprise. You’ll know soon.”
A surprise.
The word silenced every doubt in me. I wanted to believe him. I told myself love meant trust, and trust meant not poking holes in happiness. So I let it go.
And I kept smiling.
The wedding day came like thunder - bright and loud. The house smelled of incense and sweets, laughter spilling out of every corner. Ma adjusted my dupatta for the hundredth time, whispering, “You look like a dream.”
I smiled at my reflection. For once, I believed it.
Downstairs, guests swirled in a sea of colors. Rahul arrived in a cream sherwani, tall and shining like every storybook prince. He touched elders’ feet, charmed cousins, joked with uncles. To everyone else, he was perfect. To me, he was mine.
Aditya stood quietly at the edge of the crowd. When our eyes met, he smiled. A smile filled with both happiness and something else I didn’t want to name. I looked away quickly. This was Rahul’s day. My day.
The rituals began. The priest’s chants filled the air, the fire crackled, flowers rained around us. My hands trembled as I held the garland. Rahul stood across from me, his face calm, his eyes steady.
For a moment, I forgot every doubt I’d ever had.
Until he wasn’t there anymore.
It happened so suddenly. One moment Rahul was beside me, the priest chanting, my parents watching with teary smiles. The next, whispers rippled through the hall. Heads turned, voices sharpened. My uncle leaned into another relative, panic on his face.
“Where’s the groom?” someone asked, too loudly.
Nervous laughter followed. Maybe he’d stepped out for a moment. Maybe he was fixing his turban. Maybe, maybe.
Minutes stretched. Ten. Fifteen. My palms went cold. The garland slipped from my fingers.
Then my cousin rushed in, breathless, eyes wide.
“They went to the airport,” she stammered. “Rahul… he’s already gone. He left the country.”
The words cracked like thunder.
Gasps filled the room. Sarees rustled, chairs scraped. My father’s face drained of color. My mother’s hands clutched her chest. Somewhere, a child began crying, the sound cutting through the stunned silence.
I sat frozen in the mandap, my world tilting beneath me. Gone? Already boarded? A plane? My heart clawed at the truth, refusing to believe it. Rahul, my Rahul - the one who teased me about fairy lights, who kissed me under the city skyline, who promised forever?
No.
But the empty space beside me said otherwise.
Rahul’s parents stood stiff and pale. His mother pressed her hands together, sobs breaking from her chest. His father bowed his head, words dying on his lips. They folded their hands, trembling, ashamed, tears streaming down their cheeks.
“It’s not their fault,” I whispered inside, but no one heard.
“You knew!” my father shouted, his voice breaking with grief. “You knew he would do this!”
“We didn’t,” Rahul’s father pleaded. “We swear, we didn’t.”
Ma’s cries turned into fury, sharp words spilling like knives. “You ruined my daughter’s life. You destroyed her name. How will she face the world now?”
Rahul’s parents didn’t fight back. They didn’t defend themselves. They stood there, hands folded, absorbing every lash of anger, as if punishment could undo their son’s betrayal.
And I sat there, numb. My bangles heavy, my heart heavier. The world spun with curses and prayers, but Rahul was already gone.
In the middle of the chaos, Aditya stepped forward.
He didn’t speak grand words. He didn’t ask for attention. He simply looked at my father, then at me. And in his steady gaze, the decision formed.
The elders spoke quickly reputation, dignity, honor - all words that rang hollow in my ears. All I could hear was Rahul’s voice in my head, promising forever, promising surprises.
Then someone took my hand and placed it in Aditya’s. His grip was firm, steady, warm.
The priest began again. Mantras rose, flames crackled, petals fell. My body moved when told, but my soul stayed shattered.
When the sindoor touched my forehead and the mangalsutra settled against my skin, I didn’t feel like a bride. I felt like a shadow in red.
Aditya’s eyes found mine. Gentle, patient, full of something I couldn’t name. But all I could feel was betrayal.
Not his. Rahul’s.
And yet, when people looked at me, they didn’t see the man who had run. They saw the man who had stayed. They saw Aditya.
Back in the present, I place the wedding card down, my chest tight.
That night I lost Rahul. But worse, I lost myself.
And every time I look at Aditya, I can’t decide if he saved me, or if he became the cruelest reminder - that I was never given a choice.
Hi everyone 🤍
This was a heavy chapter to write — probably one of the most painful ones so far. I know it must have been shocking to see Rahul’s betrayal unfold in such a cruel way, especially after everything we saw in the last two chapters.
But this moment is important for Avni’s journey, because it changes everything — her trust, her love, her entire future. And it also sets the stage for Aditya’s role in her life.
Tell me in the comments — what were your emotions while reading this chapter? Did Rahul’s exit shock you, or did you see it coming?
Write a comment ...