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Author's POV

The wedding hall shimmered with golden light. Guests turned their heads as the bride finally appeared.

Isha walked down the stairs, each step heavy like stone.

Behind her, her stepmother whispered harshly, "Keep your head low. Don't even dare to raise your eyes. Just remember-you are saving this family's respect."

Isha's fingers tightened around her dupatta. She wanted to scream I'm not the bride you want me to be, but no sound escaped her lips.

Relatives smiled, whispering among themselves:

"She looks so shy."

"Such a beautiful bride."

"Truly a perfect match."

But only Isha knew the truth-she wasn't walking towards happiness, but into a prison.

Two women from the family guided her to the mandap.

"Come, child. Sit here, next to your groom."

The priest glanced up from the holy fire, his voice deep with chants.

"Bride, please sit beside the groom. The rituals must begin."

Isha lowered herself onto the mat beside the groom. Her eyes stayed downcast, veil hiding her face. Her whole body trembled, but no one cared.

The groom turned slightly, his tone curious yet calm.

"So, finally... you arrived."

Isha froze. His words pierced her chest like sharp blades. She wanted to run, but her stepmother's glare from the corner caged her in.

The priest raised his hand, smiling.

"Now that both bride and groom are seated, let us begin the sacred wedding rituals."

And just like that, Isha's silence became her curse. Her bad luck had only just begun.

The holy fire crackled in the center of the mandap, its smoke curling upward like destiny being written in the air. The priest's voice rose above the sound of shehnai:

"Now, we shall begin the wedding rituals."

Isha sat frozen, her hands trembling in her lap. Her stepmother's eyes drilled into her from across the mandap, warning her to stay silent.

The priest's voice echoed over the mandap.

"Now, the bride's father will come forward for the Kanyadaan ritual."

All eyes turned toward Divyanshi's father. His hands trembled as he stood, sweat beading his forehead. He looked at his daughter-her face hidden under the red veil, her shoulders shaking softly.

The priest repeated, "Please step forward, father, and place your daughter's hand into the groom's palm."

A silence fell. Divyanshi's father shook his head, his voice breaking.

"I... I cannot."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Relatives exchanged shocked whispers:

"What is he saying?"

"How can a father refuse?"

"This is an insult!"

The stepmother jumped up in fury.

"What nonsense is this? The whole world is watching! Do the ritual!"

But he clenched his fists, tears in his eyes.

"No... I won't. I cannot give my daughter away like this."

The atmosphere turned tense, whispers growing louder.

The groom, Vayansh, leaned back casually, a smirk tugging his lips. His dark eyes glittered with something unreadable-obsession, arrogance, control.

He flicked his gaze to his assistant standing nearby. With a subtle gesture of his hand, he commanded, "You. Do the Kanyadaan."

The assistant froze for a second, shocked. "S-Sir? But... how can I-"

Vayansh's voice dropped, dangerously calm.

"When I say something, it becomes law. Do it."

The priest stammered, "B-but traditionally... only the father-"

"Enough traditions," Vayansh cut him sharply. His voice silenced the entire mandap. "If her father refuses, then her brother will take his place."

He glanced toward his loyal assistant and added coldly, "From this moment, you are her brother. Complete the ritual."

The assistant swallowed hard, then stepped forward reluctantly. He held Isha's trembling hand and placed it into Vayansh's palm.

Vayansh's grip tightened around her fragile fingers, his lips curving into a victorious smile.

"Now you're mine."

The priest had no choice but to continue, his chants filling the air again. But the hall remained heavy with the shock of what had just happened.

And for Isha, that moment marked the true beginning of her cursed destiny.

The priest's chants grew louder, calling for the sacred rounds.

"Bride and groom, please stand. The Saptapadi must be completed."

Isha rose slowly, her knees trembling beneath the weight of her lehenga. Vayansh gripped her hand firmly, almost crushing it in his own. Together, they circled the sacred fire seven times.

Each round, the priest recited vows of love, loyalty, and protection.

"With this step, you promise to care for each other."

"With this step, you vow to share joys and sorrows."

Vayansh repeated them with a cool, commanding voice. Isha's lips remained sealed, her silence mistaken by everyone as bridal shyness. But inside, every vow echoed like a cruel joke.

Finally, the priest announced, "Now comes the Sindoor Daan. The groom will place vermillion in the bride's hairline."

The hall grew silent in anticipation. Vayansh picked up the silver box, his eyes fixed on Isha. He lifted her veil slightly, and for the first time, his gaze met hers properly. Her eyes glistened with fear and unshed tears.

He smirked. Leaning close, so only she could hear, he whispered,

"Welcome to hell... Gulaabo."

Before she could even react, he pressed the pinch of sindoor deep into her maang, marking her forever. Gasps and applause broke out among the guests, but Isha's heart sank. Her chest tightened as though her breath had been stolen away.

Without pause, he took the black-beaded Mangalsutra and tied it firmly around her neck.

His lips brushed her ear as he muttered again, darker this time, "From today, you're mine-and only mine."

The priest lifted his hands, voice booming.

"By the power of these rituals, the marriage is complete. The bride and groom are now husband and wife."

Flower petals showered from above. The crowd cheered. Dhols and shehnai played in celebration.

But for Isha, every sound felt like a mockery, every petal like fire falling on her skin.

Her fate had been sealed-not with vows of love, but with the chilling promise of a man who had just caged her soul.

The priest announced loudly, "It is time for the Bidaai. The bride must leave her father's house."

The air filled with claps, shehnai, and relatives blessing the couple. But Isha's world was falling apart. Her tears blurred her vision as she clutched her dupatta.

Her stepmother's sharp voice cut through her sobs.

"Enough now, Isha. Don't create a scene. Get into the car quietly."

One relative whispered, "Poor girl, she can't even stop crying."

Another smiled, "Every bride cries on her Bidaai. It's nothing new."

But to Isha, this wasn't ordinary-it was her execution.

She turned toward her father, eyes red, pleading silently for comfort, for just one blessing.

"Baba..." her lips moved, though no sound came.

Her father stiffened, refusing to meet her gaze.

One uncle urged, "Brother, bless your daughter. Say something."

Her father's voice came, low but cold.

"There is nothing left to say. She is no longer my responsibility. From this moment, she belongs to her husband's home."

Gasps spread among the guests. Isha's heart shattered. Her hands trembled violently, tears falling harder.

"Baba..." her lips trembled again, begging, but he stepped back.

Her stepmother scoffed.

"Stop looking at him like that! Don't you dare forget, this marriage is saving our family's respect. Be grateful, instead of crying like a fool."

Relatives moved closer, murmuring fake comfort.

"Don't cry, child, this is every girl's fate."

"Be strong, your new life awaits."

But none of their words reached her.

At the car, Vayansh stood waiting. He opened the door himself, eyes fixed on Isha with that unsettling calmness.

Her stepmother hissed again, "Go on, sit inside. Don't make us more embarrassed."

Isha hesitated, her tears falling freely now. She turned once more, desperately, toward her father.

"Baba..."

This time, he turned his back completely.

Her heart broke into silence.

Vayansh leaned closer, his lips brushing near her ear as he whispered,

"Don't look back, Gulaabo. That house never wanted you. But from today-" his grip tightened on her wrist, "-you are mine. Only mine."

He guided her into the car. The door shut with a heavy thud, cutting her off from the world she once knew.

Relatives showered flower petals, smiling, cheering.

"Congratulations!"

"May the bride and groom live happily!"

But inside the car, Isha sat still, her hands trembling in her lap. Her tears wouldn't stop, her heart screamed-but no voice came out.

The car stopped in front of a grand mansion, decorated with flowers, fairy lights, and rangoli at the entrance. The air was filled with the sound of dhol and conch shells.

The moment the door opened, women from the groom's family rushed forward, their faces glowing with happiness.

"Arre, dulhan aa gayi!" one aunt exclaimed joyfully.

"Look at her, so graceful!" another added.

Isha stepped out slowly, her anklets jingling softly. Her eyes stayed lowered, her tears hidden under the heavy veil.

His dadimaa approached with a broad smile, carrying the traditional aarti thali. She circled it around Isha's face, blessing her warmly.

"Welcome, beta. From today, this is your home. May you bring prosperity and happiness to our family."

She looked toward her son. "You've brought us a diamond, Vayansh."

Vayansh smirked slightly, his eyes never leaving Isha. "Hmm... a diamond that only I'll keep locked."

Isha shivered, but stayed silent.

One of the sisters-in-law clapped excitedly.

"Come, bhabhi, it's time for the Grah Pravesh ritual!"

A large pot of rice was placed near the entrance. The women encouraged her, smiling.

"Push the pot with your right foot, beta. It symbolizes the goddess of wealth entering the house."

Isha hesitated, her heart pounding. Slowly, she raised her foot and nudged the pot. The rice scattered across the floor as everyone clapped happily.

"Shagun! Shagun!" they cheered.

Next, a plate of red alta was placed.

"Now step into this, beta, and walk inside. Leave your footprints-it means you've brought blessings with you."

Isha's feet pressed into the red liquid as she took trembling steps forward, leaving crimson marks behind her.

"She walks like Lakshmi herself," an elder woman whispered proudly.

The family continued to celebrate, showering her with flower petals. But behind her veil, Isha's lips trembled, her tears falling silently. To them, these were auspicious steps. But to her, they were chains dragging her deeper into a life she had never chosen.

Vayansh leaned toward her as the family cheered, whispering darkly so only she could hear:

"Welcome home, Gulaabo. This house may see you as their goddess... but only I know you're my captive."

The Grah Pravesh rituals ended amidst laughter and teasing. Isha, hidden under the weight of her red veil, stepped hesitantly into the grand mansion. She pushed the kalash softly, her anklets chiming as rose petals scattered beneath her feet.

Relatives giggled, whispering, "Such a shy bride."

"Look how delicate she is."

But Isha's heart was sinking deeper with every step.

Soon after, the ladies of the house guided her toward the decorated room upstairs.

"Come, bahu... your new life begins here."

Isha's feet felt heavier than iron chains as she walked into the room glowing with candles and filled with the fragrance of jasmine. The bed was covered with rose petals, the air heavy with silence.

As the last of the women slipped out with teasing laughter, the door clicked shut.

Her chest tightened. She clutched the edge of her veil, trembling, her tears threatening to spill again.

Isha sat at the edge of the large bed, her bridal lehenga still weighing heavily on her shoulders. Her hands clutched her dupatta nervously, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.

The door creaked open.

Vayansh entered, his tall figure cutting through the golden glow of the room. He closed the door behind him, slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving her.

For a moment, he said nothing-just watched her. Isha's fingers twisted into the fabric of her dupatta, her throat dry, her fear written clearly in her eyes.

He finally spoke, his voice low, deep, almost teasing.

"Scared, Gulaabo?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. She lowered her gaze, blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill.

Vayansh walked closer, each step echoing in the silence. He crouched in front of her, tilting his head to catch her downcast eyes.

"I don't like silence between us," he murmured. "But... tumhari khamoshi bhi mujhe ajeeb tarah se pasand hai."

He slowly reached for her hands, prying them gently from the tight grip she had on her dupatta. Her fingers were ice-cold, trembling. He held them firmly, warmth seeping into her.

"You're mine now. Nothing... and no one... can change that."

Isha's tears slipped down her cheeks. Vayansh noticed instantly, his jaw tightening. For a moment, his thumb hovered near her cheek as if he wanted to wipe them-but instead, he leaned closer, whispering against her ear:

"Stop crying. Your tears... they test my patience."

She flinched slightly, but he didn't move away. He stood, pulling her up with him. Carefully, he guided her to the bed's center and made her sit. Then, surprising her, he knelt down, removing her heavy bridal anklets one by one.

Her eyes widened-no man had ever shown her such tenderness before.

"Your feet must be hurting," he said casually, almost as if it didn't matter, though his touch was careful. "The whole day, you've walked, stood, bowed... all for rituals. No one cared. But I do."

He looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Understand this, Gulaabo. I can be cruel to the world... but to you?" His lips curved in a faint smile. "I'll be your storm and your shelter, both."

Isha's breath caught. She wanted to say something, but her mute lips betrayed her. All she could do was lower her lashes as another tear slipped down.

This time, Vayansh did wipe it away. His thumb brushed her cheek gently, and he muttered, almost possessively-

"Enough. From now, no one makes you cry. Not even yourself."

He stood, dimmed the last candle, and sat beside her. One arm slid around her shoulders, pulling her lightly against his chest. She stiffened, but his hold wasn't harsh-firm, protective.

"Sleep, Gulaabo," he whispered against her hair. "Because tomorrow, your new life begins. With me."

Her eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion from hunger, tears, and fear finally taking over. In the darkness, with his steady heartbeat beneath her ear, Isha drifted into a restless slumber-unaware that from this night forward, her fate was tied forever to his.

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