The scent of marigolds lingered in the air, heavy and cloying, as if determined to force its cheerfulness into Mishti Sinha’s chest. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her back pressed against a pillar of the grand wedding hall, trying to blend into the shadows. Laughter and chatter rang out around her, punctuated by the rhythmic beats of dhols and the chiming of bangles, but Mishti barely heard any of it. 

Her eyes were locked on the couple seated on the elaborately decorated stage. Her cousin Kavya, draped in a crimson lehenga that shimmered under the golden lights, glowed with happiness. Beside her sat Aditya, the man Mishti had once imagined a future with. 

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. The betrayal had felt like a knife when she first learned of it—a knife that hadn’t stopped twisting since. Aditya, the man she’d loved for two years, had fallen for her cousin, Kavya, while they were still together. 

“Why are you standing here like a wallflower?” Her mother’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

A middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, Aarti Sinha had no patience for Mishti’s melancholy. “People will talk if you keep sulking. Smile and mingle.” 

Mishti forced a thin smile. “I’ll join in a bit, Ma.” 

“Join now,” her mother hissed, grabbing her arm. “Raghav and his family are here. Come meet them " Mishti stiffened at the mention of Raghav Mehta, her fiancé. Another arrangement pushed onto her by her family to salvage her reputation and theirs. A new chapter, they’d said, a fresh start. But how fresh could a start be when her heart felt like it was dragging the weight of a thousand disappointments? 

Still, she allowed herself to be led across the hall, weaving through the sea of guests. Her gaze briefly flicked to the stage, where Kavya and Aditya were now exchanging smiles. She tore her eyes away, focusing on the polished marble floor instead. 

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Raghav was waiting near the food counters, surrounded by his family. Mishti had met him once before—a brief and awkward meeting at a coffee shop where neither had much to say. Raghav had come across as polite but distant, more interested in his phone than in her. Today was no different. 

“Mishti, beta, come here,” her mother said, all smiles as she gestured for Mishti to step forward. “This is Raghav’s mother, and this is his elder sister.” 

Mishti folded her hands in a polite namaste. Raghav’s family returned the gesture warmly enough, but their curious eyes made her skin prickle. She could almost hear them evaluating her, wondering if she’d be a good match for their son. 

Raghav himself stood to the side, his phone in hand. He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “Hi,” he said, a single word that carried no warmth or interest. 

“Hello,” Mishti replied, equally curt. 

Her mother’s sharp elbow jabbed her side, a silent reprimand. Mishti inhaled deeply, summoning her best attempt at small talk. “So, how are you finding the wedding?” 

“It’s fine,” Raghav said, his eyes drifting back to his phone. 

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and a familiar ache crept into her chest. Was this how it was going to be? A life filled with one-sided efforts, polite disinterest, and stilted conversations? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a booming laugh. “Raghav, man, are you always this charming, or is it just today?” 

Mishti turned toward the voice and found herself staring at a tall, ruggedly handsome man with an easy smile. He wore a simple kurta, but the confidence in his posture made him stand out. 

“Hi, I’m Aryan Malhotra,” he said, extending a hand toward her. 

“Mishti Sinha,” she replied, shaking his hand hesitantly. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aryan said, his grin widening. 

“All good things, I hope?” Mishti quipped, surprised by her own lighthearted response. 

“Mostly,” Aryan teased, throwing a pointed look at Raghav.

“Raghav’s descriptions are always…concise. But I can see why you’d leave an impression.” 

Heat rose to Mishti’s cheeks at the compliment.

She glanced at Raghav, hoping for some reaction, but he remained indifferent, scrolling through his phone. 

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Later, as the wedding rituals began, Mishti found herself retreating once more to the sidelines. The priest’s chants echoed through the hall, and she watched as Aditya tied the mangalsutra around Kavya’s neck. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Mishti’s vision blurred. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

The voice startled her, and she turned to find Aryan standing beside her. His expression was kind, his tone gentle. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she knew exactly what he meant. 

Aryan shrugged, leaning against the wall. “I noticed the way you look at him. And the way you avoid looking at her. It’s okay, you know. To be hurt. To be angry.” 

Mishti’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice her pain, let alone voice it. 

“I’m fine, it's over long back.” she lied, folding her arms across her chest. 

Aryan studied her for a moment, then nodded. “If you say so.” 

But his presence didn’t feel invasive. If anything, it was oddly comforting, like a reminder that she wasn’t entirely invisible in the whirlwind of expectations and betrayal. 

••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••

By the time the wedding drew to a close, Mishti was exhausted. She stood near the exit, saying goodbye to departing guests when Aryan approached her again. 

“You have a lot of patience,” he said, tilting his head toward the crowd. 

“Comes with the territory,” Mishti replied, managing a faint smile. 

Aryan’s grin softened into something more sincere. “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve more than this.” 

She looked at him, startled by the conviction in his voice. For a brief moment, she felt a flicker of hope—an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling. 

“Goodnight, Mishti,” Aryan said, his voice warm as he walked away. 

As she watched him go, Mishti couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. She didn’t know what it was, but for the first time in a long time, the weight on her chest felt just a little lighter. 

And though she didn’t realize it yet, that fleeting encounter was the beginning of a story she never saw coming. 

••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••~~~••••••

After a long break... No one I know seems to be around in watty.. It's kinda depressing but my passion for writing is still intact so here goes another story.

Leave your Vote and comments.. Because I need to know what you feel about the story.

Niha🖤