Yesterday, the royal family released a statement regarding our marriage, and it shocked everyone. Our fabricated love story has been carefully crafted to suggest that we met at the orphanage several years ago and have been in love ever since. We're purportedly already engaged, so there's no issue with attending parties. What a lie they are spinning.

I received twenty calls from Mahira, but I blocked her number, and I've since changed my mobile number and phone. She deceived me for some money, mocking me in front of everyone.

I can hardly believe how quickly these five days have flown by, and now I sit in my bridal attire.
It's incredibly heavy, making it difficult for me to stand properly. As I glance at my reflection in the mirror, I see a large, ornate necklace resting heavily on my chest. A massive, circular tikka adorns my forehead, and a large nath accompanies my nose pin. Five makeup artists are working on me simultaneously, braiding my hair into a ponytail.

I adamantly refused additional makeup, knowing the reactions I would provoke. Instead, I opted for just kohl on my eyes and a striking red bindi on my forehead. One of the makeup artists exclaimed, "Ranisa, the red color was made for you. You look like a celestial nymph descended to Earth." I chuckled at her remark.

My gaze fell upon my palm, where his name was etched in the intricate mehendi design. A wave of sadness washed over me. It's been four days since I last saw him. I know nothing about his work, nor do I know if he loves someone else and will continue to do so after our marriage. I can endure many things, but I cannot tolerate infidelity.

My thoughts were interrupted when Tejaswi Maah entered the room, gazing at me with affection. "It's time."
I took a deep breath and stood. A new life, which I have embraced on my own, awaits me-a life that may bring destruction.

I stand in my room, preparing for the impending destruction. I'm dressed in a white kurta embroidered with gold and silver when Agastya, my cousin and Abhimaan's brother, enters.

Before he can speak, I ask, "Why hasn't Abhimaan come?"

He replies while sitting on the bed, "You know how heartbroken he is. His girlfriend left him, claiming he was just a friend. My mother and I have tried to convince him, but he remains stuck in that place. I never thought she would leave my brother, who is so loyal and decent."

"That's why I have no desire to be a good man. It makes you weak," I respond.

"Hmm, when you're the one getting married first," he smirks.

I shoot him a look. "It's just a marriage of convenience. I have no interest in that girl," I assert, though my heart contradicts me.

"Let's see. I've met her, and she seems sweet and innocent. Don't hurt her; you'll never forgive yourself," he says with a sincere smile.

I snapped at him, "Don't lecture me, Agastya. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay, okay, calm down, bro. I'm just stating the truth. Let's put that aside. I brought a gift for you," he says, flashing a cheesy smile.

"What gift?" I raise an eyebrow.

He leaves the room and returns with a box. "First, I want to ask you a few questions," he grins.

"Go ahead," I nod.

"Are you a virgin?" he asks.

I glare at him and rise to my feet. "Why would I tell you that? Are you my wife or something? Or do you want to sleep with me instead of Kritika tonight? I never knew you were gay, Agastya. Congratulations, you'd be the first in our royal lineage."

"Stop it, bhaisa. I'm not gay. I already have a girlfriend," he retorts, visibly annoyed.

"Oh, so you're bisexual. Good to know," I reply, nodding my head.

He believes he can play games with me; I excel at every competition. "See, I'm asking so you can be prepared. You need sex education before you jump into bed," he adds.

"Agastya, get lost before I cut your tongue. I don't need any kind of education now. Just go away," I snap.

He stands, hands me the box, and scurries out, closing the door behind him. I open the box to find various types of condoms. I feel an urge to throw it in anger, but it would be even more embarrassing if someone discovered it, so I lock it away in my wardrobe.

What a shameless boy. I wonder how Abhimaan endures him. Abhimaan is the elder brother, just a year older than me. He and his family moved to Mumbai when I was six. After so many years, I finally saw Agastya for the first time. I wanted to meet my friend, the brotherly figure Abhimaan. It's a girl's loss; she lost a diamond. He's always been the most considerate and calm among us, the one I've always been compared to by my father and grandmother.

My thoughts are interrupted when Abhinav enters the room, dressed in a cream chikankari kurta. "Bhaisa, it's time." I take the safa and adjust it on my head properly, then grasp the sword placed on the dresser-a ritual for a groom to hold, especially for one belonging to a Kshatriya family.

---

I sat in the mandap as night descended. The palace was aglow. After so many years, people had gathered in the palace for a joyous occasion. I maintained a stoic expression, but then my eyes fell upon a woman in a heavy red dress. The netted veil obscured her face, doing an injustice to her beauty. Her gaze was lowered, and she was surrounded by several women assisting her.

Finally, she settled beside me. I glanced at Agastya, who smirked at me. I longed to strike his face.

I turned to my mother, who had tears in her eyes. I despise seeing her cry. My father had caused enough pain. I nodded at her, offering assurance.

The priest began chanting the mantras. There would be no varmala ceremony, as it was my personal order not to have one, and this family had never practiced it before. The priest called for someone from the bride's family. For the first time, she raised her head in anticipation.

"She doesn't have parents," I said.

"Elder brother?" the priest inquired.

There was only one elder sibling-Agastya. I scanned the area, searching for him. But he's nowhere.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a black Mercedes-Benz. Abhimaan stepped out of the car, took my mother's blessings, and said, "Sorry I'm late. I realized I shouldn't miss my beloved brother's wedding."

His eyes met mine, offering reassurance that everything would be right in our lives. But then my mother said, "You've arrived just in time, Abhimaan." She spoke to him, but I couldn't hear their words. He approached us and stood beside me.

The priest asked from whose side he came. "I am the bride's elder brother," Abhimaan replied. He took her hand and placed it into mine. A shiver coursed down my spine as her delicate hand brushed against my rough one. She felt fragile, as though a mere touch could shatter her.

The priest called upon a female member of our family for the gathbandhan before the pheras began. I noticed Kanak Kakisa coming with a smile, tying the knot. The priest announced it was time for the Mangalpheras.

I looked at her; she kept her eyes lowered beneath the veil. Tejaswi Maah and Kanak Kakisa helped her rise. I stood as well.

The priest began chanting the mantras. I listened closely to every vow while we walked slowly.

First Phera: We promise to provide for and support each other's well-being and prosperity.

Second Phera: We vow to build strength, health, and support for one another.

Third Phera: We will work together to increase our wealth and prosperity.

Fourth Phera: We promise to nurture love, trust, and mutual respect.

Fifth Phera: We vow to raise our children with love and care.

Sixth Phera: We will stand by each other in sickness and in health.

Seventh Phera: We commit to being lifelong companions and best friends.

In my mind, I took a secret vow: no matter what, I will never give you the place you seek in my heart. You were never meant to enter my life.

With that, we sat down again.

I took a pinch of vermillion, and Tejaswi aunty removed her veil. Her eyes remained closed, her long lashes resting softly against her cheeks. I inhaled deeply, filling her hair partition with vermillion, some of which fell on her nose.

"There's no doubt, Abhijeet will love her deeply," Kanak Kakisa exclaimed. Laughter ensued, but our faces remained expressionless.

Then I was given the black bead nuptial chain. I leaned closer to her face and tied it around her neck, but the sudden touch on her skin made her eyes widen as they locked onto mine. She is not innocent, Abhijeet, I reminded myself. I withdrew, covering her beautiful face with the veil once more.

Then the priest announced, "Vivah sampan hua."

We took the blessings of our elders-only three were present: my mother and Abhimaan's parents. The marriage took place in the palace courtyard, and we needed to move to our family wing. Suddenly, I heard a crying voice and turned to see Kritika, sobbing like a child while hugging Tejaswi Aunty. Such a dramatic girl. Tejaswi Aunty glanced at me, and I shot her a glare, silently urging her to leave Kritika alone. She said something to Kritika, who nodded in response.

We entered our family wing, where more rituals ensued. One ritual, however, was particularly intriguing. We were to find a ring in a bowl of milk, in which roses had been dipped.

Our hands dipped into the bowl, and suddenly our fingers brushed against each other. I felt her flinch slightly. I smirked internally, pleased to know I had that effect on her. I retrieved the ring on the first attempt, and again in the second round. She wasn't even trying anymore.

But then Abhinav chimed in, "Bhabhisa, don't be afraid of this man. You're not even trying." To which she merely nodded.

In the next round, I felt her hand searching through the milk, and this time she found the ring. However, I held her hand firmly within the bowl, unwilling to concede. She refused to give up, looking at me from beneath the veil with an expression of frustration. I raised my brows, silently indicating that she should relinquish her hold. Instead, she dug her nails into my hand. I withdrew my hand, allowing her to win this round. I will take my revenge soon, I thought internally.

Finally, Kanak Kakisa untied the gathbandhan knot and led her to my room.

I removed my safa and settled onto the bar counter within the palace. I rarely drink. I picked up a cigarette resting there, but Abhimaan snatched it from my hand and tossed it away before sitting down across from me.

"After so many years, it's good to see you, Abhijeet. But I never thought you'd start engaging in these activities," he remarked.

"Sometimes we don't choose our paths; circumstances force our hands. Being sent to Russia at the age of sixteen to live among monsters-what do you expect from me?" I replied.

"Abhijeet, you're not the brother I remember. Do you think I'm unaware of your past? You killed your father. Though he deserved it, he was the reason our family fell apart. Still, I know your intentions toward this marriage aren't honorable. I've accepted her as my sister, so I dare you to hurt her," he warned, pointing a finger at me.

My anger flared. "You're lecturing me about a girl who arrived yesterday? She must have manipulated you all with her feigned innocence, but I won't be swayed. This marriage is merely a scandal; it holds no significance for me."

He placed a hand on my shoulder as he stood up to leave. "As your elder brother, I've given you my advice. Now it's up to you."

He began to walk away, but I couldn't help but add, "Advice should come from someone successful in their love life, not from those whose partner abandoned them halfway."

He turned back to face me. "I don't know why she lied and left me, but I can't imagine hurting her. She was, is, and will always be my love. I won't even consider laying a hand on you for speaking ill of her." His tone was calm and steady.

That's what makes him different-the considerate and composed one among us, the one who loves with everything he has. I regretted my words, but my ego wouldn't let me acknowledge that.

He departed, leaving me with the shadows of my life. I glanced at the clock; it was already midnight.

Kanak Aunty made me sit on the bed. I know everyone's names and faces; it was part of my training. The man who claimed to be my brother reminded me of my own brother. I miss him. I wish he were here.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. The walls and architecture of the room are a deep brown color. There's a large balcony and a couch as well. The sheer white curtains prevent the outside air from flooding in. I can see the moon shining brightly through the fabric.

The bed I'm sitting on is completely adorned with roses, and white curtains drape around it, just like I used to see in Disney movies. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and I instinctively clutched my lehenga tightly. I avoided looking up; my confidence had fled. What if he tries to force me? I thought, as he settled in front of me. My heartbeat quickened. I cannot allow him to touch me.

But then, I looked at him through the delicate veil. The pristine white kurta, adorned with intricate mirror work, draped over his broad shoulders, exuding an aura of regal magnificence. His disheveled hair, the striking red tilak gracing his forehead, and the gleam of a golden watch on his wrist only added to his commanding presence.

Never before had I encountered a man like him in reality—an embodiment of something almost unreal, yet undeniably tangible.

Realizing the absurdity of my thoughts, I shut my eyes, my throat tightening as I swallowed hard. But before I could compose myself, the mattress beneath me dipped, and I felt his presence drawing closer.

He lifted my veil, pulling the dupatta from my head. I closed my eyes tightly.

He whispered, "Beautiful."

But the next thing he said shattered my heart, breaking me.