(past)
The sindoor stared back at me from the mirror. A bright streak, red against my skin, heavy as blood. My hand shook when I touched it. The mangalsutra pressed against my collarbone, each black bead reminding me of the vows I never wanted.
It wasn’t supposed to be there. None of this was supposed to be mine.
And yet, here I was.
The memory pulled me back to the night everything changed.
They led me into the Agnihotri home as Aditya’s bride. The house, usually warm and familiar, now felt alien. Relatives lined the doorway, some offering blessings, others watching with eyes full of pity, whispers trailing behind their smiles.
“Such a tragedy… poor girl.”
“At least her honor was saved.”
“Who would’ve thought Rahul…”
Each word pierced me, but I didn’t flinch. My body walked forward while my soul stayed behind in the mandap, searching the empty space where Rahul should have been.
I kept my eyes down, clutching my dupatta, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.
That night, my bridal room looked like a cruel joke. The bed was covered in roses, the air thick with incense, the mirrors dressed in garlands. A room made for love, for laughter, for a beginning.
I sat there alone, my bangles heavy, my throat dry, my eyes burning from tears I wouldn’t let fall in front of anyone. I had imagined this night a hundred times. Rahul’s voice, his touch, his promises. Instead, there was silence.
The door opened.
Aditya stepped in, his face unreadable. For a moment he stood there, uncertain. Then he walked over slowly, keeping distance, as though every step risked breaking me further.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said gently. His voice was calm, steady, like it always was. “Rest. I’ll take the couch.”
He picked up a pillow, a blanket, and settled down away from me. No questions, no demands.
That single act of kindness shattered me more than anger ever could. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed silently, while he lay there in the corner, breathing evenly, pretending not to hear.
Morning came with voices, rituals, and suffocating expectations. Relatives filled the house, congratulating us, pretending everything was normal. My mother hugged me tightly, tears wetting her cheek as she whispered, “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
The word felt like a cage. Yes, my dignity was preserved, my parents spared shame. But what about my heart? My dreams? Was I safe from the silence in my chest, the emptiness where Rahul used to live?
I smiled when told to smile. I touched elders’ feet. I played the role of bride, but inside I felt hollow.
Days blurred. Aditya stayed careful around me. He gave me space, spoke only when needed, never crossed the invisible wall I built between us.
One evening, he brought me a cup of tea. He placed it on the table and said, “You should eat something.”
That was when the bitterness broke free.
“Don’t act like you saved me,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I meant. “You were just… there. That’s all.”
The words cut the air.
Aditya didn’t flinch. He didn’t defend himself. He just nodded, left the tea on the table, and walked out quietly.
His silence was heavier than any argument.
Aditya’s POV
He knew she hated him for it. Hated the marriage, hated the mangalsutra, hated seeing his face where Rahul’s should have been.
But he didn’t regret stepping in.
He remembered the mandap, the whispers, the tears in her father’s eyes, the way Avni sat frozen while the world fell apart around her. He couldn’t let her drown in that humiliation. He couldn’t watch her life break without doing something.
So he had taken the step. For her.
He would carry her anger, her resentment, even her hatred if it meant she didn’t have to face that night alone.
He watched her from a distance, careful not to intrude. Each time she avoided his gaze, each time her words lashed out, he swallowed the pain and told himself it was worth it.
He promised himself quietly, “I’ll wait, Avni. However long it takes, I’ll wait.”
Avni’s POV
Nights were the hardest.
I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, while the sound of Aditya’s steady breathing filled the silence. I was supposed to hear Rahul’s voice, his laughter, his promises. Instead, there was only distance.
I gripped my pillow tight, the tears soaking through until sleep finally claimed me.
Days later, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The sindoor blazed against my forehead. The mangalsutra pressed against my skin like a chain.
I had dreamed of being a bride. I just never dreamed it would feel like a punishment.
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