"I do not want to live in with you," Avija said sharply. "I want to be a Khanna. I want the world to see me as a Khanna. I want the name, the status, everything that comes with it."
For the first time since I had known her, I felt like I was seeing Avija clearly. Really seeing her. And I realized I did not know her at all.
"I assume you’ll be keeping a separate bedroom from Viya," she added, her voice dropping to a chilling, calculated hum. "I’ll be back in a few days. We can... arrange ourselves then."
Something inside me didn't just snap; it turned to ice.
"Don't ever mistake me for the kind of man who betrays his vows," I said, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You chose this path, Avija. I am not a man who sleeps in the shadows or sneaks behind his wife’s back. For the next year, keep your distance. I will not compromise Viya's respect—not for you, and not for my own desires.”
I could hear her sharp intake of breath. Her anger flared instantly.
"Do whatever you want, Armaan."
The line went dead.
I set my phone down on the table and finished my drink in one long swallow. The alcohol was starting to make everything feel distant and blurred, which was exactly what I needed right now.
Aryan drove me home later that night. I do not remember much of the ride. I just remember stumbling through the front door and collapsing into bed fully clothed.
The next afternoon arrived far too quickly.
I stood in my room, staring at myself in the mirror. I was dressed in traditional clothes. Cream colored sherwani. I looked like a groom. I felt like a fraud.
Dadi came to check on me, her face glowing with happiness that felt entirely misplaced given the circumstances.
"You look handsome, beta. Are you ready?"
I did not answer. I just followed her downstairs where Aryan and Mamta were waiting. We all got into the car. Ramesh drove us to the Mehra house.
When we arrived, I could see Uncle Vinay and Sangeetha aunty standing near the entrance. There was another man with them, younger, maybe around my age. Uncle introduced him as Puneet, Viya's friend.
Avija was not there. Good. I did not think I could have handled seeing her face right now.
The pandit had already set up the mandap in the center of the living room. It was a small, simple setup. Nothing like the grand wedding I had always imagined I would have.
Dadi’s hand was a firm weight on my shoulder as she guided me toward the mandap. I sank onto the floor, sitting cross-legged in a trance, my gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the havan until they blurred into a golden haze. I wasn't just sitting; I was waiting for a sentence to be carried out.
The pandit’s voice rose in a rhythmic, ancient chant that seemed to vibrate through the very marrow of my bones. Then came the command that stopped my heart: "Bring forth the bride."
The silence that followed was broken by a sound so delicate it felt like a dream—the rhythmic, silver chime of payals hitting the marble. A soft jingle of gold followed, a symphony of jewelry that grew louder with every measured step. I didn't turn. I didn't move. I simply watched the shadow of her approaching figure stretch across the floor toward mine.
I kept my eyes fixed on the sacred fire burning in front of me.
She sat down beside me. I could sense her presence, feel the rustle of her clothes, smell the faint scent of jasmine.
Uncle Vinay came forward and tied her dupatta and my stole in a knot. It felt heavy. Binding.
The pandit instructed us to stand and take the seven rounds around the fire. I stood mechanically, and she stood with me. We walked around the fire together, her steps hesitant and small beside mine.
With every phera, the pandit’s mantras blurred into a low, rhythmic hum that I tuned out entirely. I moved like a ghost, my spirit detached from my body.
As the seventh round ended and we settled back onto the floor, the air felt thick, charged with the finality of what we had just done. The pandit held out the mangalsutra—the black beads and gold glinting in the firelight like a beautiful shackle.
"Tie it around her neck," he instructed.
I turned toward her, the motion slow and deliberate. And then, the world stopped for the second time in three days.
I froze. The breath left my lungs as if I’d been struck. Those wide, soulful eyes. The curve of her jaw. The way her veil framed a face that had been burned into my subconscious.
