The house is buzzing with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic beats of dhol echoing through the air. My mother has been running around with a kind of energy I’ve only ever seen during her kitty parties, but today, it’s different. Today it's different—today it's about me. It’s the mehendi ceremony. It’smymehendi ceremony.
People surround me the moment I step in, showering me with compliments. Their words blur into a distant hum as I try to catch my breath, feeling the weight of their attention press down on me. Aunties gush over how beautiful I look, someone pinches my cheek, and I hear whispers of, "So lucky to be getting married into the Malhotras." And for a moment—a fleeting, fragile moment—I feel like the heroine in a fairy tale. The center of attention. The main character.
Maa pulls me in for a hug and then says with a knowing smile, “Beta, Rudraksh wants to see you. He’s waiting in his office.”
My heart skips. Aditi doesn’t miss a beat before teasing me. Her heart gleaming with mischief, my cheeks instantly burn. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m spiraling. My heart races, but I don’t let my smile falter, pretending it's just another joke. Butit wasn't. He called earlier... and I cut the call. I didn’t mean to, but I was not in a situation to talk. What if he heard everything? What if he’s mad? What if this changes everything? What if... I've ruined everything. I slowly make my way to his office, each step heavier than the last. My palms are slick with sweat as I rub them against each other and rattle a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he says. His voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding—enough to still my breath.
I open the door, and there he is, standing in front of the mirror, fixing his collar. When he turns to look at me, something in his eyes shifts. It’s intense—so intense, I freeze, feeling a tremor crawling down my spine. I feel his gaze roam over me, and I suddenly become very aware of everything I’m wearing—the light green sharara, the silver kundan earrings brushing my neck, and the tiny bindi Mother insisted I wear.
Does he like it? Do I look okay? His expression betrays nothing, but his silence screams louder than any words. I fidget with the edge of my dupatta, my heart hammering in my chest; a dull throb doesn't seem to stop. He takes a step forward, then another, and suddenly he’s standing right in front of me. I can barely breathe.
He lifts his hand and gently tilts my chin up, making me look at him. “You remember when I called and you ended the call in a hurry?”
I swallow hard. “Y-yeah,” I whisper. Heart pounding in my ear.
Please don't say it.
His voice drops, sharper now. “Well, you thought you ended it. But I heard everything.”
My stomach drops. No. No, no, no.
My heart feels like it’s going to explode. My legs feel weak, like they might give out beneath me. I try to look away, but his gaze holds me in place. He steps closer, brushing his fingers along my jaw. I feel trapped—not by him, but by the situation.
“Now I need to know,” he says, his voice low. “Is this wedding forced on you?”
The world tilts. Spinning faster than I can grasp. I can’t think. How do I answer this? What will happen if I tell him the truth? What if he cancels the wedding? What if my father finds out? He’ll blame me. He’ll hurt me. He always does when something goes wrong.
But this... this moment... It feels like a test. Like maybe Rudraksh wants to protect me, not punish me. Still, I can’t tell him everything. Not yet. Not when I am this fragile.
“N-no,” I say, voice trembling. “My parents just think I’m lucky to be marrying you.” His face hardens.
“And what about you, Shivani?” he asks. “Do you want to marry me? Or are you doing this to make them happy?”
I look into his eyes. And for the first time, I don’t see the ruthless businessman everyone warned me about. I see a man who wants the truth. A man who, maybe, cares. I take a deep breath.
“I... I want to marry you,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. But as I speak the words, I realize that I mean them. I really do.
But Rudraksh isn’t satisfied. “Really? Then why do you still look scared?” He steps closer, his gaze cutting through me.
Tears sting my eyes. The weight of everything pressing down on me. I want to tell him the truth. Everything. Scream it all out. Then I look down, Father's face and Mother's taunts flashing in my mind. I can’t tell him. I really can't. Not now. He’ll think I’m weak. That I can’t protect myself. And I don’t want him to see me like that. I lift my gaze again. “It’s an arranged marriage, Rudraksh. I was scared... because of your reputation. Everyone says you’re ruthless. I didn’t know what to expect. But now I do. And I want this. I want... you.”
His expression softens just a little. He stares at me for a long second, and I feel like he’s trying to read all the parts of me I’m still hiding.
Then he sighs.
“Wait here,” he says, gently this time. His voice is soft, almost tender.
He walks out, leaving me standing there in his office, surrounded by the scent of his cologne and my own whirlwind of thoughts. The door clicks shut, and with it, my thoughts scatter like spilled mehendi cones. Did I say the right thing? Does he believe me? Is he going to call off the wedding?
Minutes pass—or maybe seconds; I can’t tell. Time feels fuzzy. Then he walks back in, holding a small box in his hand.
“Shivani,” he says, his voice quieter now. “We both know this marriage isn’t happening in a perfect fairytale way. But I promise I’ll be by your side. And I want the same from you.”
Then, he bends down on one knee.
My breath catches in my throat at his action as I stare at him with wide eyes. Rudraksh Malhotra. On one knee. In front of me.
