Happy Reading✨

MEERA POV

Marriage.
Not just a ceremony... but something sacred.
A union blessed by the heavens, held together by trust, respect, and love.

Ever since I was a little girl, I watched brides walk toward the mandap with a glow on their faces and something inside me would light up, too. The sindoor, the mangalsutra, the soft rustle of red silk  it all felt so pure, so meant to be.

I used to sit by my mother's side during family weddings, watching couples exchange vows under fire and stars and in my heart, I'd whisper
One day, that will be me.

I believed marriage was the most honest kind of companionship. Not perfect but steady.
A promise made in front of gods and family...
A place where you could love, fall apart, and still be held. For me, marriage was never a cage.
It was a pious sacred thread woven with shared mornings, tired evenings, unspoken glances...

Because I've seen it.
In the way my parents looked at each other. In the way my grandmother used to wait for my dadu. The way my Bhabhi used to blush everyone whenever bhai teased her with love.
I have seen it in the laughter echoing from kitchens and I wanted it.
So deeply. So quietly.

A partner to grow old with.
A friend to light my everyday.
A love I could belong to.

And today... I'm here.

In a red lehenga, red bangles, flowers woven into my hair. everything looks exactly like how I had once dreamed.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Just the way I had imagined it.

But today...
Today, all of this feels like a nightmare dressed in silk.

The mirror showed a bride. But inside, I feel like a ghost in my own fairytale. Everything I once longed for is now nothing more than a cruel reminder of how dreams can shatter... even while looking this beautiful.

None of this feels mine anymore.

No happy faces in sight, only worry, tension, anger, and vulnerability...hidden under layers of makeup and strained smiles.
Masks worn carefully for the guests, for the clicking cameras, for the dozens of eyes waiting to judge.

Somewhere behind me, the shehnai played softly. The priest's chants echoed in the background faintly, distant...... but inside... I'm screaming.

Why did this happen to me?

The sacred bond I had worshipped all my life now hangs over me like a broken thread.
Mocking.
The moment that was meant to be the most beautiful day of my life...
has turned into a cruel performance.
A charade.

This marriage, this sacred ritual I once adorned with reverence was never just about love. It was about respect. It was about two families coming together. Warmth in the eyes of elders. Hands joined with laughter and blessings.

That's the version I grew up seeing. That's what I believed in.

But today, it's none of that. Today, it feels like a well-decorated cage.

There's movement all around but in my head, there's only one voice:
mine.

I am no longer sitting here... out of choice, but out of helplessness, out of fear of tarnishing my family image.

This wedding is not born from love or hope.
It's a patch, rushed, desperate, to cover shame,
to salvage reputation.

But at what cost?

Me.

I've become the symbol of pity because the man I was meant to marry simply didn't show up?

How is that my fault?

How did his betrayal turn into a question about my worth?

How did I become the girl whose dignity was up for debate?

And now... I sit beside a man I barely know.
A stranger in a sherwani. One I've never spoken to, never imagined. Someone I'd only heard of in passing.

Not the man I had once trusted to hold my hand. Not the name I had written shyly behind notebooks and obviously not the face I had dreamt beside.

And yet... here I am.
.
.
.

FLASHBACK

The room buzzed with giggles and chaos. My lehenga skirt was halfway on, Prerna bhabhi was fumbling with the drape of my dupatta, and my friends were already halfway through teasing me like they had rehearsed it all month.

"Meeraaa... just imagine, kal subah honeymoon coffee on the balcony in his shirt," one of her friends sang with a wink.

"And night? Ahem just don't scream too loud. Bade ghar ki deewar patli hoti hai," added another, and the room exploded into scandalous laughter.

I clutched a cushion and threw it at her, cheeks flaming crimson. "Shut up, Neha!" squealing, half-laughing, half-melting in shyness.

"Waise bhabhi, did you give her the special tips?" one of them turned to Prerna bhabhi, who raised an eyebrow with her usual sass.

"Tips? I gave her a full training module. Poor Aarav won't even know what hit him," she smirked.

"Stop it yaar!"  I said, hiding face in my palms as the teasing intensified. That's when the door burst open and her mother walked in, breathless, as if she hadn't taken a full breath in an hour.

"Aree kya kar rahi ho tum sab! Baraat aa gayi hai! Aur tumlog yahan hasi mazaak mein lagi ho?" she scolded, trying to sound stern  but her voice wavered with nerves and pride.

(What are all of you doing! The wedding procession has arrived! And you're all standing here joking around?)

"Prerna beta, aap bhi lag gayi in sab ke saath?"

(Prerna, my child... you too joined in with all this?)

Bhabhi turned, grinning mischievously. "Haan maa... but first, see your gudiya."

With that, the girls gently stepped aside like parting petals, revealing me Meera the bride, standing by the mirror in all her stillness.

Clad in deep crimson and gold, lehenga shimmered like fire under soft lights. The dupatta rested delicately over my head, a veil of dreams and centuries-old traditions. My kohl-lined eyes were wide with joy, nervousness, and a sparkle that only a bride knows. My hands trembled slightly with the weight of henna, bangles, and a thousand unspoken emotions. But I was smiling... glowing.

My mother froze at the sight. For a moment, there were no words. Just a mother looking at her daughter no longer a little girl in ponytails, but a woman wrapped in sindoori red, moments away from stepping into a new life.

She walked to me slowly, hand rose, trembling, and rested gently on my head.

"Bhagwan tujhe duniya ki saari khushiyaan de, gudiya," she whispered, voice cracking.

(May God bless you the whole happiness of the world, my child.)

She caressed my cheek, and kissed my forehead with the tenderness only a mother can give and for those few seconds, in that room full of noise, laughter, and unshed tears everything felt right.

Everything felt whole.

Until...

"I'll kill that bastard!"

A voice thundered down the corridor, sharp and vicious cutting through the laughter, through the warmth of the moment like a blade.

Everyone's breath hitched at once. Eyes turned toward the door as if the walls themselves had flinched. My heart thudded against my chest.

"Bhai?"

He never shouted like that. Never lost control. Especially not today. Especially not now. Then another voice followed loud, panicked.

"Rishi! Stop!"
It was Papa.

Chairs scraped. Slippers hurried down marble.

I stood rooted, chest tight. My heart had begun to pound in that terrible way it does when it knows something before the mind is ready to accept it.
Why was Papa stopping Bhai? Why was Bhai shouting like that?
He never lost his temper. Not like this.

Something was wrong.
Terribly, irreversibly wrong.

"Stop?" bhai voice roared again, louder this time, unhinged with rage. "You're asking me to stop after all this? I'm going to kill that bastard!"

His voice cracked with fury, with betrayal.

"How dare he did something like this to my sister!"

Me?
Is this... is this about me?

Before I could even make sense of the words, before the question could settle in my brain, bhai was already there right in front of my and right behind him... Papa.

And then came..
Aarav's family.
Their faces pale. Almost grey with something that looked like shame, fear, and something else I couldn't name.

My eyes flicked from one face to another.

No answer.
No one said a word.

Papa stepped forward, his voice shaky, "Beta..." but I turned her face away from him, back to Bhai. I wanted to hear from him. Only him. He will not lie to me. He can't. He loves me the most. He would never ruin this moment unless...

His sherwani was half open, his hair a disheveled mess, sweat clinging to his forehead. But it wasn't his appearance that terrified me

It was his eyes.

Rage.
Pure, Savage rage.

I gulped and took a step forward, the weight of my lehenga suddenly too heavy to carry.

"B-Bhai..." I croaked, voice barely audible. Nothing was feeling right. 

Bhai, what's... what's happening?" I searched his eyes, hoping to find something familiar. Some softness. Some clue. But all I saw was fury.

"Bhai, please say something," I whispered, trying to breathe past the knot forming in my throat. His chest heaved, knuckles white around the phone in his hand and then, with a broken voice barely holding, he said,

"See yourself." and handed me the phone.

I blinked, fingers moving mechanically, taking the phone from his grip. There was a video already open.
I pressed play.

At first, the screen was shaky, grainy. A private room. Loud music thumping in the background and that's when I saw. The floor beneath my feet didn't just shift.
It disappeared.

There he was.
Aarav.
My Aarav

Or at least, the version of him I thought I knew.

His shirt hung open his collar loose, hair tousled. His hands, unmistakably his, were wrapped around a girl she had never seen before. Her arms were around his neck, lips brushing his cheek and then her mouth crashed onto his and he didn't even pull away, didn't even hesitate.

He kissed her back.

Desperately.

My world turned mute. All I could hear was my pulse thrumming like a war drum inside my ears. My breath got stuck somewhere between my lungs and throat.

In the video, he chuckled, arrogant smirk twisting his face.

Then when I heard it. His voice. Slurred but clear. 

He was drunk.

"Getting married to that dull doll Meera. God, she bores me to death. Goshhh!!! I don't believe why did I even agree to this."

My heart stopped.

"All old-school, sanskaari, and fragile. Like some museum piece in red. Not my type."

Not my type.
Dull doll.
Bores me.

Something cracked inside me. Something deep and fragile that had taken years to build.

The video ended but I stared at the screen, still. Frozen and the phone slipped from my fingers, crashing to the floor with a soft thud.

I could still hear the words 

"Dull doll... not my type."
Like shattered glass crunching beneath bare feet, they dug into every inch of me. I looked down at myself.

The intricate red lehenga that had taken weeks to choose. The bangles on my wrist still jingled softly, unaware that the hands they adorned were shaking. The mehendi on my palms his name hidden in its curls. The sindoor that never got placed. 

My lips parted, but no sound came. I wasn't just heartbroken. I was humiliated. Violated in a way that had no fingerprints but left bruises all the same.

Boring.

The syllable looped through my skull like a cruel chant.
I was boring to him?

After everything... all the conversations, the promises whispered behind temple bells, the shared glances, the smiles...
All that, and this is what he thought of me?

I pressed a hand to my chest.
It hurts.

A sob escaped my throat like the last string of a veena, snapped and silent. Everything had collapsed. Not just the wedding. Not just the mandap or the rituals.

But me.

The Meera I had been shaping for months the bride-to-be, the dreamer...
She was gone.

"Did I talk too much? Laugh too loud? Was my love too soft, my dreams too small?" The shame flooded my chest, heavier than the lehenga still wrapped around me

I wanted to scream, wanted to rip the jewellery off, scrub the mehendi till his name disappeared. I sat down with a thump, the weight of the lehenga no match for the weight in my chest.

Everything hurts.

And then....
A voice. Old. Heavy. Cracking under the weight of disgrace.

"Meera beta..." Everyone's heads turned.

Dadu.

His Dadu.

The man who once beamed with pride every time telling me how happy he was that I was coming to his family. The man who once stood tall like a pillar of strength. Now, that same man stood at the threshold, eyes red with shame, spine bent with guilt. 

A walking apology.

He looked nothing like the man from the engagement day. The grandeur had faded.

"Hum bahut sharminda hain," he said, voice trembling. "Meera beta, Jo kiya hai Aarav ne... uske liye koi maafi nahi hai."

(I am deeply ashamed. Meera, my child, what Aarav has done... there is no forgiveness for it.)

A loud snarl tore through the room.

"MAAFI?"

It was bhai. "Aap logon ne shadi ka rishta banaya tha ya tamasha?"

(Did you arrange a marriage alliance, or was this all a circus to you?)

"Beta.."

"Don't" he snapped, his hands clenched. "Don't call me son. If that boy had even a shred of shame, this day would never have come."

Voices rose.
Echoed.

He stood. Towered. Shielding his sister from a storm. His arm reached across my chair, his voice growling..

"Just leave." His eyes burned into Dadu's. "Take your family and LEAVE."

But dadu stepped forward with shaking legs, raising one hand feebly. His other gripped his walking stick like it was the only thing holding him up. His face ... a painting of remorse.

"Beta.." he repeated, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes landed on me and stayed there.

"Humein... humein maaf kar dijiye. Hum jaante hain... jo hua hai... uska koi bahana nahi. Koi shabd is dard ko mita nahi sakta. Aarav ne... paap kiya hai."

("Please... please forgive us. I know... what has happened... there is no excuse for it. No words can erase this pain. "Aarav has committed a sin.")

He folded his hands. Everyone fell silent.

"Par Hum yeh bhi kehna chahte hain... ki humein... uski harkaton ka koi andaza nahi tha. Agar zara si bhi jankari hoti... toh hum apne pairon pe yeh rishta le kar aise aap sab ke saamne aakar yeh apmaan nahi jhelte."

(But I also want to say... that I... we... had no idea about his actions. If I had even the slightest knowledge... I would never have brought this proposal myself. I would never have subjected you all to this humiliation.)

His eyes brimmed with tears that refused to fall like they were too heavy to be shed.

"Humne hamesha Meera ko... hamare ghar ki bahu banakar dekhne ka sapna dekha tha."

("I always dreamed of seeing Meera as the daughter-in-law of my home.)

My lips quivered.

"Aur aaj... aaj usi bachhi ko is halat mein dekh kar...hamari rooh kaamp gayi hai."

(And today... today, seeing that same child, that same bride... in this condition...my soul has trembled.)

And then...He took another step forward holding his walking stick tight.

"You were supposed to come into our home with celebration... with flowers and laughter. You were meant to be our pride. But instead..." He lowered his gaze.
"Today, I cannot even walk out of this house with my head held high."

"This isn't just about a broken alliance," Dadu continued, "this is about a family's name... a reputation built over generations, now shattered in a single day.

He took a breath, hands trembling as he folded them together again. "I beg of you don't let the actions of one destroy everything the rest of us still hold sacred. Please... listen to me once."

The room was quiet. Everyone waiting. "I don't know if I deserve to speak anymore but still.. If there is even a shred of trust left... if you still believe there is goodness in our family beyond Aarav's actions... then I want to say this

He looked back at my father.

"Let Meera marry my elder grandson."

Gasps.

Stunned silence.

My breath too caught in her throat.

"I know this sounds wrong... untimely... cruel even but believe me Veer is nothing like Aarav. He is the one who stood by this family when things went beyond wrong. He is the reason our house still runs. He is the son I should have trusted with this alliance in the first place."

Dadu's eyes were red. His voice was lower now, pained.

"Please, let this marriage happen. Let our two families still be united not through betrayal, but through trust. Through someone who will protect your daughter with the dignity she deserves. He's grounded. He's honourable. I promise, he will never let Meera shed another tear in her life.

Before anyone could speak, bhai voice exploded through the room filled with rage. "What the hell are you saying?!" He stormed forward. Eyes wide with disbelief.

"Even after everything that just came out... you're talking about marriage?"You think we'll fix this like that? By handing my sister to another man from the same family? What do you think she is  a compromise? A lamb for slaughter?"

"She's my sister!" he roared, pointing toward me. "Not a token to trade for your honour!"

I flinched at his tone, but my heart swelled at his words. My brother... always my shield. But Dadu didn't flinch. He took a shaky breath, lifted his face again and his voice returned, lower now. 

"Rishi beta..." he began, voice trembling but steady, "you're angry. You should be. But don't mistake this for another betrayal." He looked up, his voice rising not in volume, but weight.

"You're young. You think anger is power. But when you've lived long enough, you'll realize it's not always the loudest voice that protects a family. Sometimes, it's the one that chooses the fire so others don't have to."

He turned to papa not as an elder, not as a superior but as a man crushed beneath the ruins of his family's reputation. "I'm not asking to forget. I'm asking to salvage. Not for Aarav. For Meera. She deserves a place where her worth is protected, not questioned. I failed once. I won't again."

"Please... just think about it. Don't let her carry the punishment of someone else's shame."

And with that, he bowed his head the head that once never bent for anything and left us with the weight of a decision.. while I sat frozen. All I could feel was the ache in my chest... and the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down on me.

.

.

The door closed behind Dadu with a finality that left the air still. No one spoke for a moment. My father stood frozen. My mother slowly sat down beside me, hands trembling over her lap. The silence around them felt loaded as if centuries of tradition, fear, shame, and helplessness were all pressing against the walls of this one room.

Papa exhaled shakily and looked at me, not as the man I always saw strong, grounded, proud  but as a father torn down by what he couldn't control.

"Meera..."
His voice cracked, like dry paper.

I looked up. His eyes were glassy. The kind that held too many thoughts and no good answers.

"I..I'm so sorry baccha. We never imagined... something like this would happen to you. To our daughter." Ma's hand reached out to hold me. Her grip was warm, desperate.

"Beta... we always taught you to be brave. To stand for what's right," she whispered. "But the world outside this house... it doesn't care what's right. It only knows how to talk."

Papa sat across from me now, his hands folded, his head bowed.

"I know it's unfair. I know it shouldn't matter." He paused. "But you and I both know how cruel people can be to a girl left at the altar." He looked away, ashamed at the truth.

"It doesn't matter if you were innocent. They will make stories. They'll ask questions hushed or loud. They will reduce your name to a whisper behind closed doors. And I... I won't be able to stop them all."

I saw Ma blink rapidly, holding back tears.

"We don't want you to go into another fire," she said softly. "But maybe... just maybe, this is a way to step out of the ashes." I looked back at him. Words were lodged in my throat. I didn't know what to feel anymore  betrayed, hollow, unsure, or simply exhausted. Before I could respond, bhai stood up fast, furious, and burning.

"No, Papa. Stop."

He took two steps forward, fists clenched at his sides. "You're asking her to make a decision right now? After all that's happened?"

He shook his head. "Yes, and I know I failed. I failed to see who Aarav truly was. And I will carry that guilt till the day I die. But I will not let Meera walk into another fire unless I know it is not a fire."

Then came the words that silenced the room:

"And I know Veer." He took a deep breath, swallowing back the tears that threatened his composure.

"I may have been wrong about Aarav. But Veer ? Veer is nothing like him. He's quiet, steady, respectful. I've seen how he handles storms without shouting. How he treats people who can do nothing for him."

"I've watched him stand behind his family like a wall, and never once let his pride rise above his principles. He doesn't talk big. He acts with grace. And above all ...." His voice softened now, looking at me.
"He would never break Meera. Not in silence. Not in anger. Not even by mistake."

Papa exhaled deeply, as if the weight of a thousand doubts had shifted slightly.

"I'm still furious about what happened. I won't forget what Aarav did and we'll never force you. But... maybe, just maybe... this is one way to take back what he tried to steal your dignity." And then Papa said with all the weight of his shattered ego and terrified heart,

"Don't trust the world, beta. Trust us. Trust this one time... that maybe not all men are like him."

Tears spilled from my eyes.

Because I didn't know what hurt more what had happened to me...Or how much my parents were forced to accept just to protect me from what came next.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me. My heart was beating, but it didn't feel like panic anymore. It felt like clarity cold and unflinching. This is not just only about me now. It is about my family reputation too. How can it let it be tainted.

"I'm ready."

The room went still. Bhai's voice broke through instantly, sharp and instinctive.

"No, baccha! Don't say that! You're hurt, you're vulnerable this is not the time to make a decision like that."

I looked at him... the brother who would set fire to the earth just to keep me safe. I gently placed my hand over his and spoke.

"Bhai... you've always fought for me. Let me fight for you now. For all of us." He blinked, stunned. I turned to Papa and Maa, my voice trembling but clear.

"I can live with a broken heart, Bhai. But not with the thought that people are pointing fingers at Mummy-Papa because of me. I can't let them carry shame for something I didn't even do."

Maa covered her mouth with her hand, tears falling freely.

"If marrying Veer means no one will dare to question their upbringing... if it means saving their respect in this world.." My voice broke, but I continued.
"Then I am ready."

Bhai stood frozen. I took his hand in mine.

"Please let me do this with my head held high because I choose to protect what matters to me the most. My family."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Bhai pulled me into his arms and whispered hoarsely "you'll always be my pride. No matter what the world says."

FLASHBACK ENDS

.

.

"Ab var vadhu ke maang mein sindoor bharein."

("Now the groom shall fill the bride's hair partition with sindoor.")

The priest's voice, calm and steady, sliced through the dull hum in my ears. It pulled me out of my daze like a sudden gust of wind opening a locked window. I blinked as if waking from a trance. The words echoed in my ears like a final verdict. 

Final. 

And then I felt it .... a gentle touch on my shoulder, warm, familiar.

My bhabhi.

Her hand moved behind me, lifting my veil slowly like unveiling a bride to the man meant to love her for life but all I felt was exposed. Naked in front of strangers, in front of fate.

A moment passed, or maybe more that's when I sensed him. A hand near my head steady, careful... fingers holding vermillion. A pinch of red that should've been sacred, but felt like surrender.

My breath caught.

And as the grains of sindoor touched my parted hairline... I finally looked up.

At him.

There was no emotion in his eyes. No anger, no affection, no hesitation. Just stillness 
like a man fulfilling a duty he didn't ask for and....... and that scared me.

For a brief moment, his gaze locked into mine. Unflinching. Almost as if he was trying to read me, to see the fear I was hiding, the tremble behind my silence, the truth I was too shattered to say aloud.

I couldn't hold it and closed my eyes.

And in that silence, I felt it. The warm weight of sindoor touch my parted hairline.
The sound of my breath... the faint chants of the priest... the soft rustle of people moving around us...and that sudden, strange stillness within me.

The pinch of red now marked my name with his.

A few grains slipped... fell down softly... and landed on the bridge of my nose. Suddenly a voice echoed in my mind.

My bhabhi, laughing days ago as she adjusted my bridal dupatta and teased me "Pata hai Meera, agar sindoor naak pe gir jaye na... samajh jaaiyega, aapke hone wale pati aapse bahut pyaar karenge."

(You know, Meera... if the sindoor falls onto your nose, take it as a sign.. your future husband will love you deeply.)

And a tear escaped, tracing the side of my cheek.

I had smiled that day, hiding my blush. Dreaming of love. Of a man who'd look at me like I was his world and today today I sat beside a stranger. A man I barely knew.

How can I expect love... from a marriage born out of helplessness?

How do I believe in warmth, when the fire beside me only reminds me of everything that was taken?

.

.

The applause began around us. The elders smiled. Photographers captured the moment like it meant something beautiful.

But inside me...nothing stirred. Because this wasn't a beginning. It was a burial.

The girl who once believed in happy marriages...who dreamed of a love she could wear like a second skin...is now stepping into a marriage built on convenience.

A ceremony arranged not by hearts, but by crisis. A wedding that no longer feels like a celebration but a cover-up. The priest's voice, steady and holy, rose above the fading crackle of the sacred fire

"Yeh vivaah sampann hua...Aaj se aap dono pati-patni huye."

(This marriage is now complete...
From today, you both are husband and wife.)

The voice rang clear. The words should have made my heart flutter, should have wrapped around me like the beginning of something beautiful.

But instead...they struck me like a blow... sharp, hollow, irreversible.

There was no music in my chest, no shy smile tugging at my lips, no trembling joy of new beginnings only a strange stillness. Like something inside me had gone completely quiet.

I sat there, draped in red and silence, the air around me thick with smoke, prayers, and expectations. I was surrounded by family, by customs, by everything that was supposed to make this moment sacred.

But I couldn't feel any of it.

It didn't feel divine. It felt like a brand pressed onto my skin without warning, marking me, sealing me.

I am... married.

To man I barely knew. A name that was never meant to be spoken beside mine and yet here we were.

My eyes met no one's. My lips didn't move. I simply sat, breathing through the storm inside me, while outside, the world continued to smile and bless what they believed was fate.

But fate..... fate felt like a cruel joke tonight.

I was supposed to become his wife and now, I am married...to his brother.

The silence inside me was louder than any vow spoken and as the vermillion dusted my parting, sealing a bond I hadn't chosen, one truth settled into my bones like winter:

MEERA VEER PRATAP SINGH.

A name I never imagined, fate I never asked for.
But now... mine.

❤️