Page 21 of Heal my Heart


Font Size:

God, she's beautiful.

I stand up on instinct, because how the hell do you stay seated when someone like that walks toward you? Someone whotakes your breath away. I take a step forward and reach out for her hand to help her up to the mandap. Her hand is small, cold, and slightly trembling—but she doesn’t let go. I glance at her quickly, and she gives me a nervous nod. That’s all I need.

The Pandit ji starts chanting the mantras, but I barely hear him.

I can’t stop stealing glances at her. She looks down most of the time, but I catch her looking at me once or twice. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. It's like she’s trying to figure out how this moment is even real. Hell, so am I.

I never wanted an arranged marriage. I didn’t think I’d be the kind of guy who’d wear a sherwani or sit through rituals or let his mother pick out a matching turban. But here I am. And not once do I feel like I’m being forced. Because it'sher.

I glance at Maa, who’s sitting nearby, wiping her eyes with the corner of her dupatta. She’s crying already. Why is she crying? I really don't get her sometimes.

When the pandit asks me to fill her hair parting with sindoor, I reach for the small silver container with steady hands. I press the red powder to the center of her hairline, and suddenly, it hits me — this isn’t a ceremony anymore. It’s real.

This woman is mine now.My wife.

Next, I tie the mangalsutra around her neck. The black and gold beads feel heavier than they should—maybe it’s the meaning behind it, the promise, the damn responsibility of it all.

The pandit speaks about Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati, about togetherness till the last breath. I watch Shivani’s face carefully. She swallows and looks straight ahead, but I can seesomething flicker in her eyes. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe hope. Maybe both.

Then the pheras begin. Seven rounds around the sacred fire, seven promises, seven silent acknowledgements. Neither of us speaks. But we both know what we’re signing up for.

With every step, I feel more grounded. I’m not thinking about business, or the board, or any goddamn thing that used to consume me. I’m thinking about her. Just her. Only her.

The pheras end. We sit again for the final prayers, and then it’s done. And just like that, we’re married.

We're married.

I help her down from the mandap carefully. She’s holding her lehenga with one hand and my hand with the other. Like she is afraid to stumble. It’s instinctive now, her fingers curling around mine like she’s trying to make sure I don’t let go. I don’t plan to. I never will.

We’re walking toward the elders for blessings when the security enters, rushing toward us with their faces taut with urgency. “Sir, the media is outside. They know of the wedding.”

What the—? My chest tightens. No one was supposed to know. I glance at Shivani immediately. Her smile drops. Her eyes widen, and I see the fear creep in. Her grip on my hand tightens as if she’s preparing for an ambush. It takes one second to register — she’s not just anxious. She’s scared. Really scared. She had already told everyone she wants a small wedding. Then how the fuck did media arrive here? I made sure no guests had their phones or any electronic device on them.

I lean toward her and squeeze her hand gently. “Hey,” I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, “everything will be okay. I promise.”

She nods, but her lips are pressed tightly together.

I turn to the guard. "Send them away. Tell them I’ll give a statement tomorrow. Not a single photo leaves this house tonight.

“Yes, sir.”

I’m about to turn back to Shivani when I hear her father. “That’s me,” Ranveer says casually, stepping forward like he just delivered a damn cake. “I called the media. It’s a great occasion; why hide it from the world, right? The world deserves to see this, no?”

I don’t say anything. I should. I want to. But not now.

Maa is glaring at him. Even Papa looks disgusted. Shivani’s face is pale now. She looks at her father like she’s trying not to flinch, like his words might strike her. And Meera—she’s standing there pretending to care, but I see right through her.

“My only daughter is married now. Into such a good family. I want the world to know.” He smiles. I’ve seen that smile in meetings. It’s the smile of a man trying to sell lies. I bite down the rage building in my chest. I don’t want to cause a scene today. Not in front of Shivani. Not when she’s already holding herself together with thread barely stitching together by nerves and resolve.

But I file it away.

Everything about him—his words, the fake affection, his disregard for Shivani’s wishes—it all goes into a mental folder labeled payback. If she confirms even half the things I suspect,I’ll show him exactly what I do to people who hurt the people I care about.

He wants publicity? He’ll get the headlines. Just not the kind he’s hoping for.

For now, I look down at the woman standing beside me. My wife.

She deserves peace. She deserves safety. And I swear to every god listening, I’m going to give it to her.