“Some bonds are made with love, others with fate—hers was sealed with betrayal.”
The grand Rathore-Mehta wedding was the most awaited event of the year. The luxurious Udaipur Palace was adorned with shimmering lights, fragrant marigold garlands, and golden drapes. Renowned businessmen, elite socialites, and powerful politicians graced the venue, all waiting for the grand union of Virat Rathore, the heir to the Rathore empire, and Sanaya Mehta, the glamorous and confident daughter of the Mehta family.
The air buzzed with excitement—until chaos erupted.
“Sanaya is missing!”
Meera Mehta’s panicked voice echoed through the vast halls of the palace. The makeup artists, the designers, the maids—everyone froze in shock.
Siya Mehta, Sanaya’s twin sister, looked up from where she was sitting in the corner, clutching a book. Her heart pounded. What does she mean, missing?
She rushed towards her mother, only to see her father, Dinesh Mehta, pacing the room with a furious expression. In his trembling hand was a letter.
Dear Ma, Papa,
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I love someone else. I won’t marry Virat. By the time you read this, I’ll be far away. Please don’t look for me.
—Sanaya
A deafening silence fell over the room. Meera’s face turned pale as she gripped the letter, her breath coming in short gasps.
“How could she do this?!” Dinesh roared, slamming his fist on the wooden table. “She has humiliated us in front of the entire world!”
Meera collapsed on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The Mehtas had spent months preparing for this wedding—ensuring it was perfect in every way. Their entire reputation depended on this alliance. And now, Sanaya had destroyed everything.
Siya’s hands trembled as she read the letter. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. Her sister—her mirror image, her closest friend—had abandoned them.
“We have to stop the wedding,” Siya whispered.
“Stop the wedding?” Dinesh’s eyes burned with rage as he turned toward her. “Do you know what that means? Our family will be ruined! The Rathores will destroy us! This isn’t just a wedding, Siya. It’s a business alliance. If Virat and Sanaya don’t get married today, our company will suffer. We will lose everything!”
Siya’s stomach twisted. She knew how much this marriage meant to both families. The Rathores were one of the most influential business empires in India. A broken wedding would be a public scandal.
“Then what do we do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dinesh and Meera exchanged a look before turning to her. Meera took a shaky breath and spoke, “Siya, you will take Sanaya’s place.”
Siya froze.
“What?!”
“You are her twin. No one will know the difference. We will cover your face with the bridal veil. The pheras will be done, the marriage will be completed, and by then, it will be too late for anyone to object.”
“No, Ma!” Siya gasped, stepping back. “This is wrong! This is deceit—”
“Do you want to see our family destroyed?” Dinesh interrupted, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Do you want to watch our business collapse? Do you want to bring shame upon this family?”
Siya felt the weight of their words crushing her. Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. “But Virat—he’s marrying Sanaya. Not me. This isn’t fair to him.”
“What other choice do we have?” Meera cried. “Siya, you are our only hope. You must do this—for us.”
A lump formed in Siya’s throat. Her entire life, she had lived in Sanaya’s shadow—the prettier twin, the bolder twin, the one who always got what she wanted. Siya had never complained, never asked for more. But this?
This was too much.
Yet, as she looked into her mother’s desperate eyes, as she saw her father’s trembling hands, she realized—she had no choice.
Siya sat in front of the mirror as the makeup artist fixed her bridal jewelry, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. The heavy red lehenga, embroidered with golden threads, felt suffocating. The weight of the bridal dupatta covering her head felt heavier than a thousand stones.
“You look stunning, beta,” Meera said, forcing a smile as she adjusted Siya’s nose ring.
Siya wanted to scream.
Her fingers dug into the fabric of her lehenga as she was led toward the mandap, where Virat stood, waiting for his bride.
Her hands trembled as she stepped forward, her face hidden beneath the veil. The wedding rituals began. The air smelled of sandalwood and roses, but Siya could barely breathe. Her pulse hammered against her skin.
As she sat beside Virat, she could feel the tension in his body. He had no idea he was marrying the wrong woman.
Each chant of the priest felt like a death sentence. The mangal phera began—seven sacred vows, seven steps toward a lifetime of togetherness. Siya’s vision blurred with unshed tears.
“With this fire as our witness, you both are now husband and wife,” the priest declared.
Virat reached out and tied the mangalsutra around Siya’s neck. The cold metal burned against her skin, marking her as his wife. The moment he applied the vermillion to her parted hair, Siya felt her soul shatter.
The wedding was over.
She was now Mrs. Siya Virat Rathore—a title that never should have been hers.
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{The Full Story is available, Just click on the profile.}
~By P¿ndaWriter! ✨
