Chapter 2: The decision

The sound of dhols and laughter echoed from outside, filling the Rathore mansion with energy. But inside the bridal suite, an entirely different atmosphere prevailed. The room was suffocatingly still, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric. Meera’s hands trembled as she adjusted the delicate dupatta over her head, the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

She had always been the quiet one, the observer, the one who kept to herself. But today, she was thrust into the center of everything. Today, she was standing in for her cousin, Kavya—who had eloped with her secret lover, leaving Meera to pick up the pieces of her family’s broken reputation.

Sudha, Meera’s aunt, paced the room with her phone glued to her ear, barking orders to the caterers and decorators. The wedding was meant to be a grand affair, and even though the bride had disappeared, nothing could ruin the celebration. Nothing, except the truth.

Meera was barely able to meet her aunt’s gaze as Sudha turned her attention to her. "Meera, it's time," Sudha said, her tone softer now but no less desperate . "The groom’s family is here. You need to go out there."

Meera stood up shakily, her knees threatening to buckle. “Maasi, what if he realizes I’m not Kavya?”

Sudha grabbed her by the shoulders, her grip firm. “He won’t. The ghoonghat will cover your face during the ceremony, and by the time he realizes… it won’t matter. Trust me, beta, we’ll handle everything after the wedding. Just get through today.”

“Just get through today,” Meera repeated in her mind like a mantra.

Meera nodded weakly, her stomach twisted into knots. She wasn’t ready for this, but there was no turning back. She stood up, the bridal lehenga trailing behind her like a heavy burden, and made her way to the door.

"Don’t make a scene," Sudha warned, grabbing Meera’s arm before she could leave. "Keep your head down. Don’t speak unless absolutely necessary. Let the ceremony play out."

Meera could only nod again, her voice lodged somewhere deep inside her throat. She had always felt out of place in her family’s grandiose world, and now, standing in the center of it, everything felt even more alien.

Her uncle found them , looking just as frazzled as his wife. “The baraat is here. We need to move quickly.”

As the two of them fussed over last-minute details, Meera caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked beautiful, like a princess plucked straight out of a fairytale. But the girl staring back at her felt like a stranger—a girl stepping into a life she hadn’t chosen.

Sudha handed her a small vial of perfume. “Just a touch behind your ears, beta. And remember, keep your head low. Speak as little as possible.”

The sounds of the celebration outside grew louder as Meera was led through the grand corridors of the mansion. She could hear the rhythmic beat of the dhols and the excited chatter of the guests, but none of it felt real. It was like she was walking in someone else’s life, someone else’s shoes.

As they reached the mandap, Meera paused. The crowd was gathered in anticipation, and there, in the center, stood the groom, Arjun Malhotra. Meera’s heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of him—tall, composed, dressed impeccably in a rich velvet sherwani. He was everything she had imagined and nothing like what she had expected. She had heard of him—how he was known for his calm demeanor and sharp business acumen—but seeing him in person, about to marry someone else, made her breath catch in her chest.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Sudha ushered her forward. The pandit was already preparing to begin the ceremony. Meera’s eyes darted nervously to the ground, her hands shaking as she moved toward the mandap. The weight of her bridal attire made each step feel heavier.

"Keep your head low," Sudha whispered, her voice sharp. "Don’t look him in the eye."

She could hear Arjun’s deep, calm voice as he greeted the guests. He sounded confident, composed. “How will I face him when he finds out the truth?” she thought.

As Meera reached the mandap, her hands shook. The pandit began chanting mantras, and the wedding rituals commenced.

Meera obeyed, lowering her gaze as the pandit began chanting the mantras. She could feel Arjun’s presence beside her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. How could she? She was standing in for someone else, someone he had intended to marry. He would hate her if he knew the truth.

Arjun glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable. She couldn’t see his face clearly through the veil, but she felt his eyes on her. “Did he sense something was off?” she wondered.

The ceremony continued, a blur of rituals and prayers. Meera barely registered the words being spoken. The fire flickered in front of her, casting a soft, golden glow on her veil. As they circled around the sacred flame, Meera’s heart raced. With each step, she felt more like a prisoner than a bride.

Finally, the moment came—the sindoor. The groom was supposed to mark her forehead with the vermilion, symbolizing their union. But when Arjun’s hand reached up to lift the veil slightly, his fingers hesitated for just a split second. Meera’s breath caught in her chest. Had he noticed something?

But then, his hand moved steadily, and the sindoor was applied. The ritual was complete. The marriage was official and now it was completed.

Hours later, the wedding celebrations had calmed, but Meera’s mind was still spinning. The guests were mingling in the grand hall, but she had been led to the bridal chamber, where she now sat in silence, waiting for Arjun to arrive.

The weight of the situation was suffocating. She had never imagined she would be in this position—married to a man she barely knew, under false pretenses. Meera’s hands fidgeted nervously with the delicate embroidery of her dupatta, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Arjun stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, watching her.

“Kavya,” he said, his voice low and measured. “Or should I say… Meera?”

Meera’s heart stopped. He knew.

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