Author's POV
The Oberoi Mansion had never looked more alive.
The crisp morning sun reflected off the golden domes of the house, casting long shadows across the marbled courtyard. Strings of orange marigold and white jasmine danced in the breeze, draped from balcony to balcony like celebration itself had come home. The cooks were shouting in the kitchen, the servants ran like clockwork, and laughter echoed through the long corridors.
"Dadi, do you think she'll wear red or pink?" Naira said excitedly.
"I heard she likes blue, maybe she'll come in that," Tanish replied, raising an eyebrow and grinning like a maniac as Saira threw a flower at him and he glared at her while all the cousins were laughing.
"Have you seen her picture? She's so pretty, bhagwan kasam, bhaiya got lucky." Naira said breaking the laughter.
Dadi chuckled as she stood near the entryway, commanding like a general and loving like a queen.
"Lucky? Hmph! He didn't even want to get married until he saw her picture. Tab se toh bas haan mein haan, na mein bhi haan." Tanish said looking towards Ekaksh's room with a smirk.
From the top floor, hidden away behind a half-closed door, Ekaksh heard it all.
Ekaksh's POV
They think I said yes out of pressure.
They don't know the truth.
The second I saw that picture, everything inside me stopped. For years, I was looking for her. From temples to trade shows, cities to whispers, I searched.
And then she appeared.
Vamika Verma.
I don't know if she'll remember me. Maybe she won't. Maybe to her, I'm just another groom with a price tag stitched in diamonds. But now that she's within reach, now that fate has handed her to me, even if through this ridiculous concept of arranged marriage...
I'm not letting go.
My fingers brushed the wooden box in the drawer, the one I've never opened since that day.
The door creaked.
"Ekaksh!" Dadi barged in, her bangles jingling as loud as her voice. "What are you doing still staring at this box? Go get ready! Dulhan aa rahi hai."
I looked at her.
She smiled.
"I know you didn't want this. But life has strange ways. And sometimes... sometimes, fate actually knows better."
I said nothing. Just nodded.
She placed her hand on my cheek and said, "Aaj tum sirf mere nahi, kisi aur ke bhi ho gaye ho. Go on now. Let her see the man I raised."
I turned, picked up the navy blue kurta she left for me, and closed the drawer.
Vamika's POV
"Don't think this is some fairytale," Ma snapped as she pulled the dupatta tighter on my head. "You're going there to be a wife, not a queen."
I looked in the cracked mirror. The girl in the reflection looked calm. But inside, a volcano.
"You've already told me a hundred times," I said coolly. "Try something new, maybe a goodbye hug?"
"Hug? Tum jaise ke liye humne itna kaafi nahi kiya? Seventeen years! Seventeen years of feeding, clothing, schooling you!"
"Feeding me insults. Clothing me in your shame. And schooling me in survival," I muttered.
Papa walked in, not even sparing me a glance. "Car is outside. Jaa, aur wapas kabhi mat aana."
"Wasn't planning to," I whispered.
I stepped out, anklets chiming louder than ever. They weren't just jewellery. They were battle drums.
Author's POV – Oberoi Mansion
The Oberoi Mansion was a living canvas of gold and red. Strings of fairy lights lit the grand corridors. Flower petals danced in the wind like confetti. People buzzed—relatives, decorators, staff. Sisters rushed to fix things, brothers carried trays, and through all of this, Dadi orchestrated every detail like a queen managing her court.
"Reva, woh cushion seedha karo. Tanish, tum phool laoge ya nhi? Jaldi!"
"Dadi," Tanish groaned, "we've had three mandaps built and destroyed already."
"Shaadi hai ya wrestling match?" joked one of the cousins.
Dadi smacked him with a flower basket. "Shaadi hai. Aur ab dulhan aane wali hai."
As the family gathered near the main entrance, a sleek black car pulled in.
All heads turned.
The air changed.
Ekaksh's POV
I was the last to walk forward.
I saw her.
Blue suit. Jhumkas. That same soft curve of her lips. Her eyes held storms, and yet she stood like the world couldn't touch her.
And the anklets.
She still wore them.
My chest felt tight. I wanted to reach forward. Say her name.
But I didn't.
"Namaste," she said politely, bowing slightly.
Dadi beamed. "So graceful, just like I knew she'd be."
I couldn't stop staring.
Vamika looked at me then. Our eyes locked.
She didn't remember.
Or maybe she pretended not to.
Author's POV
Dadi stepped forward, hugging her gently. "This was all too fast, I know. But I promise, we'll do all the rituals properly. Mehendi, sangeet, everything. You'll be celebrated like a bride should be."
Vamika nodded, her face calm. But her thoughts were loud.
Is this real? Or just another performance?
Still, there was warmth here. That was more than she'd had before.
"Come, let's take you inside," Dadi said.
The moment Vamika stepped into the mansion, it felt unreal.
She wasn't used to hands that guided her gently, or words that weren't edged with cruelty.
For a moment, Vamika stood frozen, her body stiff, her mind racing. The soft brush of fingertips on her elbow as someone guided her into the mansion wasn't forceful—it was kind. It wasn't a shove, or a pull, or a slap on the wrist. It was warm. Controlled. She almost flinched, her body too trained to react, but she didn't. She just let it happen, quietly.
And then she looked up.
Her gaze found Ekaksh.
Their eyes met.
And there—there was something.
Not love. Not recognition. Not even curiosity. Something quieter than all of that. Something that felt like déjà vu and nostalgia had tied hands.
She blinked.
He didn't.
A shift in his stance. Barely visible. A crack in his carefully controlled armor. Something in his eyes—a storm that looked like it had once known calm.
She couldn't name it.
Didn't even try.
A voice from behind broke the moment.
"Chalo, Vamika bitiya ko tayaar karo," said one of the elders.
Another voice, kind and trembling with excitement, followed, "I've brought the prettiest lehnga in this world for my prettiest bhabhi."
"Pretteist? Me? Are these people real?" Vamika thought
The women around her bustled gently. Soft bangles clinking, hushed laughter echoing off the ornate marble walls. A crimson lehenga was unfolded before her—handcrafted, detailed, glowing with heritage. Embroidered peacocks danced in gold along its borders. It was heavy, but not heavier than the silence Vamika had lived under for years.
She was guided to a room upstairs. For the first time, the people helping her didn't carry disdain in their eyes.
She was draped in the outfit, layer by layer. Kangan, nath, bindi, payal.
When she looked into the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. And not just because of the attire. Because for once, she didn't look like a shadow.
She looked like someone whose presence mattered.
The wedding rituals began.
The scent of sandalwood hung in the air. Flower petals were scattered across the courtyard like blessings. The havan crackled and priests chanted. The sound was sacred. Soothing.
Ekaksh was already seated, his expression unreadable.
Vamika was brought forward, guided again with care. Her steps were measured, but this time, not out of fear. The women around her whispered kind things.
When she reached the mandap, she paused, looked at the fire. The same fire she had lit in a temple just days ago.
She sat beside Ekaksh. Their shoulders brushed for a second, but neither pulled away.
The rituals continued. Their hands were bound together with a sacred red cloth. Seven rounds. Vows spoken. Promises neither was sure they could keep. But they said them anyway. Not because they wanted to lie, but because hope, even when small, makes us believe.
And then came the final moment.
Vamika, at the entrance of the house once more, now married. She turned slightly.
Her hand reached into a brass bowl.
Fists of rice.
She scattered them behind her with each step forward, the grains slipping through her fingers, like the years she had spent in that house.
And then—a whisper.
"Welcom home"
And Vamika almost... amlost smiled.
She stepped forward.
Ekaksh walked beside her. Silent. Stoic.
When they reached their room—now, their room—he opened the door and let her enter first.
She turned slightly to him, unsure.
"You can take the left side," he said simply, pointing towards the corner where her suitcase had already been placed.
She nodded.
He loosened his collar, looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't.
"The lights switch is here," he said, flicking it once.
Another pause.
She gave him a small nod again, not out of submission, but acknowledgment.
He cleared his throat.
"If you need anything... the bell is near the bed."
She sat down on the edge of the mattress. Looked up at him.
"I'm not used to needing anything," she said.
He stared.
"Maybe it's time you are."
And then he turned away, walking to the other side of the room, the soft click of the bathroom door closing behind him.
Vamika leaned back slowly, her fingers trailing across the bedsheet. Not silk. Not satin. Just cotton.
But it was warm.
And it didn't smell like pain.
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