Teri kudmai ke din aa gaye

Not every wedding is filled with love; some are filled with emptiness

What the hell are you doing, Sam? Leave your work today! Prisha shouted at me.

Just a minute... Yes, Rohan, I—"

"Prisha, give my phone back! It's urgent, I almost yelled, I tried to explain, but she wasn't having any of it.

"No, not today! It's your wedding, yaar!" she retorted, hands firmly gripping the phone.

She was right. As much as I wanted to finish things, my wedding day was not the time for work. But... I still had responsibilities, and Rohan was expecting a quick update about my upcoming book Forced to Betray.

"I get it. I can't argue with her. Okay, fine. Let me just drop a text to Rohan at least," I muttered, taking the phone back from her hand.

"Fine, you have exactly one minute," Prisha said.

I quickly typed out a message to Rohan, explaining the final edits I had made to the book. As soon as I hit send, Prisha snatched my phone back again, much faster than I'd expected.

The tension in my chest tightened as I stared at the wedding setup around me. It's happening, I thought numbly. My wedding. When I was young, I dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding, where my prince charming would come and take me away to a perfect life. But now, here I stood in a bridal lehenga, about to marry a man I barely knew, a man I don't love. And deep down, I knew I never would.

The wedding was taking place in Delhi. Siddhant's chacha, chachi, Avani, and his cousin Riaa lived here, and his grandfather sometimes stayed with him in Mumbai, where he often traveled for business. But Siddhant mostly lived in Mumbai on his own.

"Sam, Prisha, let's go!" Isha's voice broke my thoughts, and I turned to see her standing by the doorway with a faint smile on her face.

"I can't believe it," Ishanya said, her voice full of emotion as tears filled her eyes. She hugged me tightly, and Prisha joined in, wrapping me in a warm hug. 

We walked towards the mandap and I saw Mr. Oberoi sitting there, looking really handsome in an off-white sherwani. The fabric shimmered with gold and silver designs, making him look royal. For a moment, I felt something inside me, but I quickly pushed it away.

As I got closer, Mr. Oberoi held out his hand, and I took it without thinking. He gently pulled me beside him, and we sat in front of the panditji, who began chanting the mantras.

I glanced at Siddhant, I could see his impatience. His eyes flickered with irritation, almost like he felt these rituals were a waste of time, as if his mind was elsewhere. 

But then the panditji's voice came , "Aap apni patni ko vachan dijiye, aap unki hamesha rakashaa karenge, unhe ek bhi aanch nahi aane denge."

I wasn't expecting anything from him; maybe he wouldn't say anything at all. But then I heard his voice, "Main vachan deta hoon, main apni patni ki hamesha rakashaa karunga aur unhein ek bhi aanch nahi aane dunga..." He paused, then added in a whisper only I could hear, "And I will destroy everyone who tries to upset my wife." I turned towards him, and he was smirking.

"'Ab kanya ke mata-pita ko bulaiye,' Panditji said.

I glanced around, my heart sinking, but as expected, my mumma and brother weren't there. They didn't come for my wedding. It wasn't that I was expecting them, but in that moment, an unexpected emptiness settled deep within me.

Just then, Vivaan's voice broke through the silence, 'Samayra, tumhara kanya daan mein aur Ishanya karenge.'

A tear slipped out. They were the ones who always stood by me, when no one else did."

After the pheras, we went to take ashirwad from everyone.

"Maasi, congratulations," Rehan's voice came. I quickly wiped away my tears and lifted him  in my arms, kissing his cheeks, "Thank you, bacha," I said.

"Isha, where is Prisha?" I asked.

"Pata nahi, abhi toh yahi thi," Isha replied.

Then we saw her, arguing or talking—I wasn't sure—with someone. It turned out to be none other than Mr. Oberoi's best friend, Daksh Rundhawa. She then walked towards us.

"Kya hua, madam?" Isha asked.

"Nothing, I hate this man," Prisha said, pointing towards Daksh.

"Par bata toh kya hua?" I asked.

"Arey, chhodo na, yeh bata, jijaji kahan hai?" she teased me.

Mr. Oberoi was with his friends. They both grabbed me and led me towards him.

"Congrats, bhabhi," Daksh said, side-hugging me. I saw Mr. Oberoi giving him a sharp look. I don't know what he was thinking. I said bye to everyone as today, we will be staying with Mr. Oberoi's family in Delhi, and tomorrow we would head to Mumbai.

I got into the car, and Mr. Oberoi was busy on his phone, not even glancing at me. He simply told the driver to start the car.

Suddenly, panic attack hit me, and I hated myself for it. It happens whenever I sit in car with someone. I closed my eyes to calm down.

Then, I felt Mr. Oberoi's hand on mine. He was still on his phone, but his touch was gentle.

As soon as we arrived home, I quickly pulled my hand away.

We got out of the car, and as I looked around, I saw Mr. Oberoi's entire family standing outside, waiting for us. His chachi was holding an aarti ki thali. We walked towards them, and she performed the aarti, welcoming us into their home. Then, I kicked the chawal ka kalash before stepping inside. It was a huge house, and I couldn't help but look around in awe.

"Beta, go freshen up. Then, we'll do your pheli rasoi ki rasam," Chachi said.

It was 4 a.m. I was sitting alone in the room. Suddenly, my phone rang, and when I saw my mother's name, my heart dropped. I didn't know why she was calling, but I hoped, just for a moment, that maybe things had changed. Maybe, after my marriage, they would accept me again, overall I did this marriage for the sake of my family's reputation. But when I picked up, her voice shattered all hope.

"You're not my daughter, you're a bloody murderer!" she screamed through the phone. "You killed your father, and now you've made your husband take everything from my son — his company, his everything!"

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't speak. Before I could say anything, she hung up on me, leaving me in a suffocating silence.

She blamed me. And the worst part? I couldn't deny it. I couldn't even defend myself. I knew why Mr. Oberoi had married me — it was never about love. It was about revenge. I was nothing but a tool. He took his revenge but what about me? What was my fault?

Tears blurred my vision. I cried, not just for the pain of being rejected by my own mother, but for the hollow life I had been pushed into. I should have never been born. Maybe then none of this would've happened.

"Bhabhi, aap abhi tak freshen up nahi hui?" Avani's voice startled me out of my thoughts. She entered the room, pausing when she saw my tear-streaked face. I forced a small, shaky smile.

"Bhabhi, aap ro kyun rahi ho? Bhai ne kuch bola? Ruko, unhe toh main—"

"No, Avani," I interrupted quickly, wiping my tears. "Vo bas... sab kuch naya naya hai toh..."

"Arey Bhabhi, itni si baat? You just chill. Main hoon na yahaan. Abhi aap rest karo, phir kuch rasmein bhi karni hain," she said.

I took a deep breath, brushing away my tears. First, I needed to change. After slipping out of my heavy bridal attire, I lay down for a while and drifted into an uneasy sleep. When I woke up, it was already 10 a.m. 

After a quick bath, I heard a knock. Avani and Riaa walked in, holding out a beautiful saree for today's ritual. I accepted it with a smile. As I attempted to drape it, frustration bubbled up. The pleats wouldn't fall into place no matter how hard I tried, and I struggled, bending awkwardly to fix them.

Suddenly, the door opened. Mr. Oberoi walked in, wearing a deep green kurta. He looked... proper desi munda.

"You should knock before entering a room, basic etiquette, Mr. Oberoi," I said.

"This is my room, Mrs. Oberoi," he shot back.

Mrs. Oberoi. He called me Mrs. Oberoi?

"Well, this is my room too, Mr. Oberoi," I replied. He didn't respond. Instead, he walked to the balcony, pulling out a chair and sitting down, eyes focused on his laptop, already immersed in work. Typical Mr. Akadu.

I sighed, turning back to my saree struggle. "Why is it always me bhagwaan ji?" I muttered under my breath.

Moments later, I felt his presence behind me. Startled, I turned slightly to see him approach. He bent down, his hands adjusting the pleats of my saree. I stood frozen, not knowing how to react. The same man who was ice-cold moments ago now helping me.

As he finished adjusting the pleats, I turned toward the mirror, looking at the perfectly arranged saree. By the time I turned back to thank him, he was already gone.

After getting ready, I took a deep breath and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Chachi was already waiting for me.

"Good morning, Samyra beta," she said with a warm smile.

I bent down to take her ashirwad. "Good morning, Chachi," I replied.

"So beta, this is your pehli rasoi. Make something for the rasam, and if you need any help, just ask one of the servants," she said and left the kitchen.

Make something? I stared at the neatly arranged kitchen. Meri Cooking aesi jaise ki Mr. Akadu ke muh pr smile? Ek dum impossible.

Determined not to fail on my first day, I decided to make kheer—something simple that Ishanya's mother-in-law had once taught me. I carefully measured the ingredients, my hands trembling slightly as I stirred the milk and rice, adding sugar and cardamom. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, giving me a small boost of confidence.

I took a deep breath, arranged the kheer in small bowls on a tray, and stepped outside where the family was gathered, including Mr. Oberoi. 

I served everyone, and waited for their reactions.

"Wow, so tasty, bacha!" Chachu said, smiling broadly.

"Haan, Bhabhi, bhaut tasty bani hai!" Avani and Riaa chimed in, their faces lighting up with genuine approval.

I silently thanked the god. At least it was good.

"Idhar aao, Samyra beta," Daadu called out, he handed me shagun. I bent down, taking his ashirwad gratefully.

"Bhai, aap Bhabhi ko kya doge? Itni achi kheer banai hai," Avani teased, glancing at Mr. Oberoi.

He looked at me. "Aapki Bhabhi ko kya hi chahiye, jab unhe itna acha pati mil gaya," he said with a hint of mock seriousness.

The room filled with laughter. I rolled my eyes and whispered, "So full of himself."