Author's POV

Trisha sat quietly in the middle, her hands extended as the mehndi artist meticulously applied the intricate designs. Around her, the ladies sang traditional songs, their voices blending with the joyous hum of pre-wedding festivities.

Her friends and cousins, scattered nearby, were busy rehearsing their dance performances for the sangeet later that evening. Trisha couldn't help but chuckle when one of her cousins tripped over her own feet, falling dramatically to the ground. It seemed as though they were more excited about her wedding than she was.

Her dadi, seated at a distance, glanced at her, a rare smile flickering on her usually stern face. But the warmth quickly faded when her eyes shifted towards someone, and her mood soured once again.

Trisha's mother, Swati, stood nearby, admiring her daughter, though a deep sadness filled her heart. The thought of Trisha leaving their home after the wedding weighed heavily on her. She sighed softly, glancing around, her eyes landing on Karishma, who was chatting with a group of ladies. As Karishma excused herself to call over the mehndi artist for the other women, Swati made her way towards her.

"Karishma," she called softly.

Karishma turned, concern etched on her face. "What happened?"

Swati took her by the hand, gently pulling her away from the crowd. "Come with me, we need to talk," she whispered.

Inside a quiet room, Swati held Karishma's hand, her eyes searching her face. "How did this happen?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Karishma hesitated for a moment before finally meeting Swati's gaze, but she said nothing.

"You think I wouldn't notice? I saw how you tried to hide it with your saree," Swati pressed, her tone gentle but firm.

"Swati, calm down. It's nothing serious," Karishma finally responded, sighing. "Just a small accident on my way here."

Swati's eyes softened, though her concern remained. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Karishma shrugged. "It doesn't hurt much. See?" She held out her arm for Swati to examine.

Swati nodded but still looked unconvinced.

"And please," Karishma added with a small smile, "don't mention this to your mother-in-law. She'll make a big fuss, saying it's a bad omen for the wedding or something. You know how she is."

Swati chuckled. "True, she would."

"Karishma, come! Let's get our mehndi done quickly," Swati said with a playful nudge. "And don't forget, you're supposed to dance tonight. On your famous song, no less!"

Karishma raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Since when was this decided?"

"In my dream," Swati teased, grinning. "Now stop wasting time!"

With a chuckle, Karishma followed Swati, and the two settled down amongst the other ladies as the mehndi artist began applying the intricate designs on their hands. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, but Swati's attention shifted for a moment. Her eyes landed on Damini.

"Damini, come, you should apply mehndi too..." Swati's words trailed off as her gaze fell on Damini's hand, where a new burn marks marred the skin.

Karishma remained silent, her gaze fixed elsewhere, while Damini glared at her before abruptly leaving. A soft chuckle escaped Swati's lips as she watched the awkward exchange.

The mehndi artist, meanwhile, kept glancing at Karishma, as though hesitating to say something. Her nervousness didn't go unnoticed by Swati.

"She's real, you know," Swati quipped, breaking the tension.

"Mam, can I...can I take your autograph?" the artist finally asked, her voice shaky with excitement.

"Why only an autograph? You can take pictures too!" Swati quickly chimed in before Karishma could respond, smiling mischievously.

Karishma, though slightly embarrassed, nodded with a polite smile. "Sure, later."

The artist beamed, still in disbelief, as she carefully resumed applying the mehndi, glancing at Karishma every now and then like she was meeting a celebrity.

---

Meanwhile with Trisha...

As the mehndi artist finished their work, Trisha found herself sitting on the sofa, patiently waiting for the mehndi to dry.

Beside her, Riya had taken a seat, recounting the strange and somewhat humorous details of her contract marriage-how she had ended up being a fake bride.

Trisha's face tensed as she listened. She knew Riya was always clear about the boundaries between her deals and personal life. But something about the way she spoke made Trisha uneasy. Riya wasn't the type to fall for anyone easily, but Trisha couldn't help but worry-especially for him.

"Whose talks are we interrupting?" came a voice.

Rakshit arrived, and after taking Trisha's permission, he sat beside her, showing off his hand where her name.

Turning toward Riya, he smirked, "Who's this khadus you're talking about?"

"My bo-- friend ! Bada hi khadus hai mera old friend," Riya grumbled dramatically.

Rakshit suddenly coughed, startling them for a moment.

"Are you okay." Trisha asked.

Rakshit nod.

"Yes, definitely a grumpy one. But when he folded his hands and requested in front of me, how could I refuse? After all, I'm not that heartless," Riya finished, her gaze shifting toward Raghav, who was looking at her intensely, holding eye contact for just a little too long.

"So, have you all practiced any dance for the evening?" Trisha interjected, changing the subject and lightening the mood. "Or are you boys planning to lose again?"

"Arrey, aise kaise! Kudiyon, we're Punjabi munde! No one can beat us when it comes to dancing. Play any music, we can dance to anything!" Rakshit and Raghav’s grandfather chimed in, walking towards them with his cane in hand.

Everyone stood up in respect as he approached. Trisha smiled, moving closer to touch his feet.

"Sit down, dear. Your mehndi will get ruined," he said, motioning for her to stay seated.

"No, no, it's okay, dadu, it's dry now," Trisha smiled brightly.

With that, they all settled back down, the cheerful atmosphere returning as conversations flowed easily around them.

"By the way, dadu, I've been thinking," Rakshit began with a playful glint in his eyes, "why not have a special performance where someone from the bride's side pairs with someone from the groom's side?"

Their grandfather looked intrigued. "Hmm, the idea is nice, but who's going to perform?"

Rakshit's smirk grew wider as his eyes landed on his elder brother, Raghav. Raghav raised his eyebrows, sensing trouble. "I think, from our side, it should be Raghav. And from the bride's side... Riya ji," Rakshit declared confidently.

"Ji?!" Riya exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as if stars had appeared in them. She looked at Rakshit as though he were some kind of divine messenger sent just for her.

"What?" Raghav muttered, completely caught off guard.

Their grandfather raised an amused eyebrow. "Haan, vaise jodi acchi hain," he added with a knowing smile.

At once, everyone turned their heads towards him in unison.

"Dance jodi, bachon," he clarified, laughing heartily.

Raghav sighed, realizing there was no escape, while Riya still seemed over the moon about the idea.

"Okay then," Rakshit said, getting up with a satisfied grin, "we'll see you both in the evening for the big performance."

Raghav groaned inwardly, while Riya smiled softly, already imagining the dance to come.

---

The beautiful and elegant sangeet ceremony had ended, leaving the night to fade into silence.

The next day dawned bright and full of anticipation. Today was Trisha's wedding day. The household was buzzing with activity, as every corner of the mansion brimmed with excitement and urgency.

Anuj and Prithvi were busy overseeing all the final preparations. Anuj, as a doting father, ensured that nothing was left undone, determined to make his daughter's wedding perfect. The lavish decorations dazzled the arriving guests, leaving them in awe. It seemed as though the stars themselves had descended to bless this day.

Outside, the Agnihotri family stood greeting guests with warm smiles, while the staff attended to every detail with precision. The air was filled with excitement and chatter as more guests poured in.

Inside, Trisha’s mother, Swati, was a whirlwind of movement, constantly rushing between rooms to check on her daughter. She couldn't stay still, her nerves fraying as the moment drew nearer.

Karishma, gracefully greeting the guests outside, noticed Swati’s restless behavior. Meenakshi bua to them, approached Karishma and gently reminded her, "Jao, ab tum dono bhi ready ho jao baarat ke liye. Mein hun tab tak, bahar sambhal lungi."

Karishma nod, excused herself, and went to find Swati. Once she found her, Karishma led Swati to a room, speaking firmly but kindly. "Get her ready," she told the beautician, pointing to Swati. "She’s the bride’s mother, and make sure she doesn’t leave this chair even once."

"Yes ma'am," the beautician replied, getting to work.

Swati, still anxious, said, "You should get ready too."

Karishma nodded. "I will, but first, I need to check on Avik."

With that, she left the room.

---

Aadir sighed deeply as he placed his phone down after the video call with Aadarsh. His heart felt heavy, despite being dressed in the sherwani as a groom. The anticipation of the baarat leaving downstairs barely registered in his mind. His thoughts were consumed with something deeper.

Across the room, Angad sat on the sofa, carefully working on folding the pagdi. Once satisfied, he stood up, walked over to Aadir, and gently placed it on his brother's head, ensuring it was perfect. His eyes lingered on Aadir, searching for an answer that had yet to be spoken.

Angad’s voice broke the silence. “Aadir, I need to ask you this one last time—do you love Trisha?”

Aadir, standing by the window now, didn’t immediately respond. His silence spoke volumes, but Angad wasn’t done. His tone grew more serious as he stepped closer.

“This time, I don’t want any misunderstandings between you and her. What happened with Nisha, the way things fell apart back then—I can’t let that happen again. Trisha deserves better. She should be your first priority. In everything. So, tell me, Aadir, do you truly love her?”

Aadir’s grip tightened on the window sill as he stared out, his back still to Angad. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. His voice was low, but every word carried the weight of his feelings.

“When I first met her in college… I didn’t even want to look at her. I tried to avoid her gaze, her presence. But even then, her eyes—they had this softness, this affection that unnerved me.” Aadir’s eyes grew distant, lost in memory. “When she accidentally spilled her coffee on my hand, she was so worried, kept apologizing. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I was afraid. Afraid of what I might feel. I kept my eyes on the ground, avoiding her, as if not seeing her would make the moment less real.”

Aadir turned away from the window and faced Angad, his expression now intense, his voice thick with emotion. “That bike race… it was the first time we both competed. I should’ve been focused, should’ve been racing to win. But no—I was distracted, more concerned with her. I lost that race because I wasn’t paying attention, fell and scraped my hand. But the pain? I didn’t even feel it. Not then. Because all I could think about was her smile, the way when she crossed the finish line.”

Angad muttered to himself, "People are right when they say love makes you blind. Thank God I'm not in love!" He shook his head, chuckling softly.

His voice cracked slightly as he continued, his hands clenched into fists. “I remember her eyes kept coming back to me, over and over again. Concerned. And yet, I told myself she was just a kind person, that her worry for me didn’t mean anything more.”

Aadir let out a soft chuckle, though there was a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Yes, but it is a different matter that papa came to know about it and because of that I got scolded and punished."

“A few days later, she looked at me and asked, ‘Are your hands okay now, Aadir?’ And all I could do was nod.”

“I don’t know how someone I barely knew ended up becoming my whole world.”

Angad, watching his brother closely, saw the passion simmering beneath the surface. Aadir wasn’t just remembering. He was reliving those moments with an intensity that could not be denied.

"Angad," aadir continued, his tone now almost desparate, “there's no escaping it. She's been in my thoughts since that day. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me-- it's like she became a part of me before I even realised it. I didn't want to love her. I fought it, ignored it, but... I couldn't. I can't. She's everything.”

Aadir took a step forward, his eyes locked with Angad’s, his voice low but filled with fierce determination. “I love her. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And this time, I won’t let anything come between us. Not my fear, not our past—nothing.”

Aadir paused, his eyes distant yet soft, then he turned to Angad with more conviction. “Are you still doubting whether I love her?”

Angad sighed heavily, his brow furrowing as he spoke. “It’s not that, Aadir. But you know how Trisha is. Everyone sees her as this confident, almost arrogant, extrovert. But she’s not like that at all. She’s calm, reserved… shy even. She only opens up when she truly trusts someone. And I don’t want you to hurt her again.”

Aadir’s face tightened, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I know she’s quiet and keeps her feelings to herself. That’s why she doesn’t talk about her problems easily. But Angad, I was trying to meet her, to tell her the truth. I wanted to fix everything, but Anuj uncle stopped me.” Aadir clenched his fists as the painful memory surfaced. “I felt shattered when I found out she had an accident—on her way to meet me, no less. She wanted to hear the truth from me, and I failed her.”

He turned to face Angad fully, his voice now heavy with emotion. “And you… even you were angry with me. You thought I had broken promises to her, that my love wasn’t real. It felt like in that moment, my brother wasn’t standing before me—only Trisha’s protector, her lawyer. I stayed silent because of Nisha, but it tore me apart.”

Aadir took a deep breath, his tone almost pleading now. “Please, Angad, don’t doubt my love. I’m not like other people. I’ve made mistakes, yes, but I’ve never stopped loving her.”

Angad’s expression softened as he moved closer and pulled Aadir into a tight embrace. “I know you love her, Aadir. I’ve always known. I just need you to show it—fully, without hesitation. No matter how difficult things get, Trisha should always be your priority. And remember, your brother is always with you.”

As they broke the hug, both brother shared a brief, understanding smile. Angad patted Aadir’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Now come on, let’s go get your bride.”

Just then, Mrs. Singh entered the room, a warm smile on her face. “It’s time for the baarat,” she announced softly. “Let’s go, Aadir.”

With one last glance at each other, Aadir and Angad nodded.

Mrs. Singh the real mother of Raghav and Rakshit.

The group made their way downstairs and settled inside the beautifully decorated car. They were ready to leave for the wedding destination.

                          ******

𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲!

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! ❤️✨