Episode 1 – The Unseen Groom

Scene: Lavish Wedding Hall | Night | Mumbai

Lavender petals fluttered through the air like whispers of forgotten promises.

Bride: “Why does this feel like a dream I never dared to imagine?”

Nevaeh Raichand stood at the entrance of the grand wedding hall, her heart pounding in sync with the dhol beats echoing through the luxurious space. Dressed in a crimson lehenga, heavy with intricate gold embroidery and jewels gifted by a man she hadn’t even seen, she looked every bit like a bride from a fairytale… except this wasn’t hers. Not really.

She hadn’t met the groom. Not once. Not even a name—only a contract.

All she knew was: he was a billionaire CEO, connected to her father’s old business circle, and marrying him would save her family from ruin.

Cold. Mysterious. Untouchable.

That’s what the whispers said about him.

Her mother tugged her hand, eyes wet behind her makeup. “You’re going to be safe, Nevaeh. He’s powerful. He’ll protect you.”

Safe. Was that love?

She had once known love. As a child. A boy with stormy eyes and a broken arm who’d protected her during a fire. His name still lived in her memory like a sacred prayer.

But this man—this groom—was a stranger.

Nevaeh: “What kind of man marries a woman without showing his face?”

The rituals began. She walked down the aisle, surrounded by murmurs and flashes of camera lights. But her eyes scanned the mandap for him.

And there he was.

Seated rigidly at the mandap, face completely veiled in a designer sherwani hood, like some regal ghost from another realm. His hands were gloved. No skin exposed. His posture screamed power, but also something darker… detached. Almost angry.

Her throat dried. She sat beside him, trembling.

The priest chanted. Holy fire crackled. The groom didn’t speak—not until the time came to tie the mangalsutra.

Only then did he lean slightly toward her.

His voice was deep. Disguised. Almost… hollow.

Groom: “Don’t ask who I am. Not yet.”

Nevaeh blinked.

Groom: “We are married by contract. That’s all this is. Don’t expect a fairytale, Mrs. Caspian.”

Caspian.

Her heart skipped. The name sounded familiar… but why?

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

The mangalsutra was tied. The sindoor touched her forehead.

It was done.

The applause around them rang hollow in her ears. All she could feel was that deep voice, slicing through her heart like a blade.

Mrs. Caspian.

A bride to a man she couldn’t see… but felt something strange for. Something old. Almost familiar.

Later That Night – In His Mansion

She was brought into a dark, marbled room—far too silent to be welcoming. He stood at the window, back to her.

Nevaeh: “Are you going to look at me?”

He didn’t turn.

Groom: “No.”

Nevaeh: “Why? Are you… ashamed?”

Groom: “I’m protecting you.”

Nevaeh: “From what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened a drawer and slid a small box across the table.

Groom: “Your room is down the hall. We won’t share one.”

Nevaeh picked up the box. Inside was a single silver key… and a photo.

Her photo. A little girl—her—holding a boy’s hand in front of a burning orphanage.

Nevaeh: No… it can’t be…

Groom: “Goodnight, Nevaeh.”

He walked away. But her hands were trembling.

That boy in the photo. That fire. Those eyes.

It was him.

The boy she’d once loved.

The boy who had disappeared.

The masked groom was no stranger.

He was her first love.

But why was he hiding now?

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