Between the vows and the rituals, their hearts remained silent spectators to a story that hadn’t even begun.

Nandini’s POV,

The faint sunlight streaming through the curtains woke me up, and the dull throbbing in my head reminded me of the previous night's chaos. I sat up slowly, my fingers pressing against my temples as I tried to shake off the lingering headache. Memories of the panic attack flooded back—the heaviness in my chest, the suffocating fear, and then, the unexplained impulse to call him.

Manik.

I still couldn’t understand why I had called him. In all these years, I’d never reached out to anyone not even Abhimanyu during my moments of weakness. I had learned to handle myself. Yet last night, something was different. And what surprised me even more was how calmly he handled it. No complaints, no unnecessary questions—just his steady voice guiding me through.

“Why did I do that?” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. “And why didn’t he react like others would? No judgment, no irritation…”

I shook my head, brushing the thoughts aside. Today was not the day to dwell on confusing feelings. It was my wedding day, and like every other life decision, this one wasn’t mine to make.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I had no time to waste. The chooda ceremony was scheduled for the morning. I dragged myself out of bed, forcing my mind to focus on the tasks. After a quick shower, I slipped into a simple blue suit.

As I walked downstairs, I saw Ansh playing with Abhimanyu on the floor. The sight brought a faint smile to my lips. Ansh’s laughter echoed through the hall, momentarily easing the tension in my chest.

I sat down beside them, leaning my head against Abhimanyu’s shoulder. He immediately turned to me, concerned etched on his face. “Babydoll, you okay?”

I nodded, though the dull ache in my head persisted. “Just a headache,” I murmured.

Prisha Bhabhi appeared then, holding a cup of steaming filter coffee. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. “Drink this quickly. We need to start the ceremony soon.”

“Thanks,” I said, gratefully taking the cup. The rich aroma of the coffee was comforting, and I took slow sips, hoping it would ease my headache.

Once I was done, she ushered us all toward the backyard, where the chooda ceremony was set up. The area was beautifully decorated with marigold garlands and white drapes, the soft morning light adding a golden hue to everything.

My mama (maternal uncle) was waiting for me, holding the traditional red and ivory bangles. Bhabhi came up behind me, covering my eyes with her hands as per the tradition. “No peeking,” she teased, her voice light.

I chuckled softly. As Mama slid the bangles onto my wrists, I felt a strange mix of emotions. A white cloth was tied over them, concealing them from view.

Once the ceremony was over, I excused myself and went back to my room. The noise of the celebrations was too much to bear. I needed quiet, a moment to breathe.

I was sitting on my bed, staring at my covered chooda, when the door opened. Mom and Dad walked in together, their expressions unreadable.

I sighed, already feeling my defenses rise. “What do you need now?” I asked, my tone was sharper than I intended.

Mom came closer, sitting beside me and gently placing a hand on my head. “You’re going away today,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “From tomorrow, this won’t be your room anymore.”

I pushed her hand away, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips. “I went away years ago, Mom. The day you both sent me to New York, I stopped being a part of this house. So, don’t pretend to be sad now.”

Her face fell, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But it didn’t matter. I was too angry, and too hurt myself to care.

“That was for your own good,” Dad said, his voice firm as he tried to defend their actions.

“For my good?” I snapped, turning to face him. “No, Dad. It was for your good. To save your reputation, to protect your business. It was never about me.”

His jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “Why can’t you talk to us normally, even for once?”

“Because talking doesn’t matter to you,” I shot back, my voice breaking with emotion. “You never listened. You never cared about what I wanted. All you cared about was fixing things your way, controlling my life.”

Mom tried to reach out to me again, but I turned away. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead despite my resistance. That simple gesture broke something in me, and a tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

She left the room without another word, leaving me alone with Dad.

He sighed, sitting down beside me. “Nandini, I know my way wasn’t right,” he said quietly. “But I truly believe you’ll be happy with Manik. He’s a good man.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s not about Manik. It’s about me. I’m not ready for this. I have dreams, Dad. Goals. Things I want to achieve. But you’ve never given me a choice. You’ve always made decisions for me.”

“I only want what’s best for you,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

“No, Dad,” I said firmly, my voice barely above a whisper. “You want what’s best for you. There’s a difference.”

He sighed again, reaching out to touch my head gently. “I’m sorry, Nandini,” he said, his voice heavy. “I hope one day you’ll understand.”

“Just leave, Dad,” I said, turning away from him. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

He hesitated for a moment before standing up. Without another word, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

As the silence enveloped me, I lay down on the bed, my eyes closing as I tried to calm the storm raging in my mind. The weight of everything—the wedding, my parents, the memories of New York—it was all too much.

I just needed a moment to breathe. A moment to feel like myself again. But as the hours passed, I wasn’t sure if that moment would ever come.

Nandini’s POV ends.

Manik's POV,

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my sherwani. The heavy fabric clung to my shoulders, and the anticipation in my chest felt heavier than the attire. Today was my wedding day, and I wasn’t thrilled about it.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Before I could respond, Mom, Dadi, and Navya walked in. Their contrasting expressions greeted me instantly—Mom and Navya with wide, excited smiles, and Dadi with her usual stoic demeanor.

“Manik, look at you,” Mom said, her eyes sparkling as she took in my appearance. “You look every bit the groom I’d imagined.”

Navya came closer, holding an ancestral mala in her hands. “Bhai, sit,” she said, her voice teasing but warm.

I did as she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed while she carefully placed the necklace around my neck. It felt heavy, but I said nothing. Navya adjusted it, stepping back to admire her work.

“Perfect,” she said with a grin, patting my shoulder.

Mom’s eyes softened as she looked at me. “The barat will start from the hotel. We’ll drive there directly, and the procession will continue from the backyard to the hall.”

I nodded, acknowledging her instructions. I glanced at Dadi, who remained silent throughout. Her expression was unreadable, but the lack of warmth stung.

Navya turned to Dadi. “Dadi, isn’t he looking dashing?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dadi gave a small nod but didn’t say anything. The silence lingered awkwardly until Mom decided it was time to leave.

“Navya, come with us,” Mom said. “Manik, Cabir, and Dhruv are waiting outside. They’ll help you with your pagdi.”

I watched them leave, their chatter fading down the hallway. Moments later, Cabir and Dhruv burst into the room, their faces lit with mischievous grins.

“Manik Malhotra,” Cabir said dramatically, “the groom of the year!”

“Let’s get this pagdi done,” Dhruv added, pulling out a beautifully embroidered turban.

The two of them worked together, fixing the turban on my head with exaggerated care. Cabir kept cracking jokes, while Dhruv occasionally muttered something about Cabir’s lack of focus.

“Ready?” Cabir asked, patting my shoulder. I nodded.

Together, we headed downstairs and made our way to the hotel. The drive was quiet, but my mind was anything but. The day's weight settled on me, but I pushed it aside.

When we reached the hotel, everything was already in place. The Barat was planned to start from the backyard to keep the event private and away from prying eyes. The backyard was decorated with strings of fairy lights and marigold garlands, giving it a festive yet intimate feel.

Mom and Dadi stood near the entrance, holding a small aarti thali. As I stepped forward, Mom’s smile widened.

She lit the lamp on the plate and waved it in front of me, murmuring under her breath prayers for my happiness and well-being. Dadi stood beside her, performing her part of the ritual without much expression.

“Alright, time to mount the horse,” Cabir said, his excitement infectious.

Dhruv helped me climb onto the white mare waiting nearby. The animal was calm and steady, and Mukti, Alya, and Navya gathered around to feed it treats.

“Such a good horse!” Mukti said, laughing as she patted its neck.

Navya grinned and turned to me. “Ready to parade your way to the bride?”

“He is more ready than you can imagine Navya,” Alya shot back, earning a laugh from everyone.

The Barat began. Drums and music filled the air as Cabir and Dhruv led the dance. Mukti and Alya joined in, their energy was unmatched. Navya danced beside them, keeping the mood lively.

I stayed on the horse, watching them with a mix of amusement and anticipation. This moment, despite everything, felt surreal.

Finally, we reached the entrance to the hall. The Murthy family stood at the door, waiting to welcome us. Rudraksh and Abhimanyu stepped forward, smiling as they helped me down from the horse.

“Careful, Jiju,” Rudraksh teased, steadying me as I dismounted.

“Don’t drop him!” Cabir shouted from behind, earning a glare from me.

Once I was on solid ground, Navya announced, “Time for the sisters to welcome their Jiju!” She disappeared into the Murthy crowd, leaving Cabir grumbling. “Navya, you traitor!” he shouted.

Mukti and Alya burst into laughter. “Relax, Cabir,” Alya said. “She’s just playing her role.”

Navya returned with a pair of scissors and handed them to Swarna Aunty, who began the aarti ritual. She circled the plate in front of me and then playfully stretched my nose.

“Don’t forget,” she said with a smile. “You’re taking away our treasure today.”

I gave her a small nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. Once the aarti was done, Navya handed me the scissors to cut the ribbon tied across the doorway. Prisha Bhabhi, standing beside her, showered flowers on me as I stepped through.

Inside, the hall was decorated in shades of gold and white, the elegance befitting the occasion. The stage was set, and the priest was already waiting. I was guided to the stage, where the priest began the preliminary rituals.

As the chants filled the air, I sat there, my thoughts drifting to the girl who was about to become my wife. I wondered if she felt the same weight of this day as I did.

And in that moment, as the rituals continued, I realized that this wasn’t just a day for tradition or family pride. This was the start of something entirely new.

Manik’s POV ends.

Nandini's POV,

I sat in the bridal suite, my hands trembling slightly as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The bridal lehenga I wore was exquisite. The dupatta was draped over my head, pinned carefully to ensure it stayed in place. I had been transformed into a bride, but inside, I felt far from it.

My heart was heavy with unease as I stared at my reflection, trying to calm the storm inside me. How did I end up here? I thought, my chest tightening with every passing second. I had never imagined my life turning into this—a marriage I hadn’t chosen, responsibilities I wasn’t ready for, and a relationship that felt more like an obligation than a dream.

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths, reminding myself that I had no way out of this now. Focus, Nandini. Just get through today, I told myself. But my thoughts were relentless. How would my life change after this? Would I be able to keep my identity, or would I be swallowed whole by expectations and duties? Would I ever be happy?

A sudden knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts. The door opened, and in walked Prisha Bhabhi, Rudraksh Bhai, Abhimanyu, Navya Didu, Mom and Dad. They all looked at me with a mix of emotions—happiness, pride, and sadness.

I straightened in my seat, forcing a neutral expression as they entered. Mom’s eyes immediately filled with tears as she approached me. She held a small pinch of kajal between her fingers, intending to place a kaala tika behind my ear.

“Nandini,” she said softly, leaning forward.

Instinctively, I turned my face away, avoiding her touch. Her hand froze mid-air, and I could feel the room grow tense.

“Nandini, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. She placed the tika behind my ear despite my resistance. “Not today,” she added, almost pleading.

I clenched my fists in my lap, biting back the words that were threatening to spill out. Not today? I wanted to scream. You don’t get to decide when my pain matters or doesn’t.

Didu noticed the tension and frowned. “What’s wrong with you, Nandu? Why are you behaving like this?”

Before I could respond, Prisha Bhabhi stepped in. “Navya, come here. Help me adjust Nandini’s veil,” she said quickly, diverting her attention.

Didu hesitated but eventually moved away. I sighed in relief, grateful to Bhabhi for sparing me from another confrontation I wasn’t ready to handle.

Bhai stepped forward, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. He crouched down to my level and hugged me tightly.

“You look beautiful, Bache,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

I blinked back tears as I hugged him back. “Don’t get all emotional on me now, Bhai. You’re supposed to keep me calm,” I said, trying to lighten the moment.

Abhimanyu chimed in, his teasing tone returning. “Don’t worry, Rudra Bhai. She’s still the same Nandini who’ll probably bully us even after marriage.”

“Of course,” Didu added, smirking. “She’s just switching targets now—poor Manik!”

I rolled my eyes at them, though their banter did bring a faint smile to my lips. “Can you two ever be serious?” I said sarcastically, shaking my head.

Abhimanyu grinned. “Not a chance.”

Didu laughed, and the heaviness in the room lifted for a brief moment. But it didn’t last long. Dad stepped forward, his expression was soft yet hesitant.

“You’ve grown up so fast, Nandu,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It feels like just yesterday you were running around the house, causing trouble with your pranks.”

I tensed as he placed a hand on my head. The weight of his words felt more like a burden than affection. I wanted to pull away, to remind him of how he had controlled my life, but I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

I forced a small nod, keeping my gaze down to hide the turmoil within me.

Finally, Mom spoke up. “It’s time for your entry, Nandini,” she said softly. She turned to Didu. “Call Cabir and ask him to come here. He’ll hold the phoolon ki chaadar.”

Didu hesitated, glancing at Dad. “But Mom….”

“I said call him,” Mom replied firmly.

Didu nodded reluctantly and stepped aside to make the call. A few minutes later, Cabir Jiju arrived, looking slightly confused but ready to help.

Together, Rudraksh Bhai, Abhimanyu, Dad, and Cabir Jiju lifted the chaadar adorned with fresh white flowers and positioned it above my head.

“It’s time,” Bhai said, offering me a reassuring smile.

I took a deep breath as I stood up, my hands clutching my dupatta tightly. The bridal entry song began to play softly in the background as we made our way towards the hall.

The walk felt endless. All eyes were on me, and I could feel the weight of their stares—some admiring, some curious, and others simply expectant. My heart raced, and the urge to turn around and run was overwhelming. But my feet kept moving, one step at a time.

As we reached the stage, the chaadar was carefully removed. Didu and Bhabhi flanked me on either side, their presence grounding me as I climbed the steps.

Manik stood at the center of the stage, waiting for me. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but there was a hint of something—concern, maybe—that softened his otherwise stern demeanor.

He extended his hand towards me, and for a moment, I hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, I placed my hand in his and let him guide me up.

Mukti and Alya stepped forward with the garland for Manik, while Didu handed me mine.

Before we could proceed, Cabir Jiju cleared his throat dramatically. “Wait, wait, wait! A warning before the garlands—marriage is no joke, okay? Think twice before you go through with this!”

Everyone burst into laughter, even I couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

“You’re too late, Cabir,” Didu replied smoothly. “They’re already here.”

With that, we exchanged garlands, the moment sealing a bond I wasn’t ready for but had no choice but to accept. The applause and cheers that followed felt distant as I stood there, wondering what the future held for me.

Nandini’s POV ends.

Manik's POV,

The evening felt like a blur of faces, flashing lights, and endless congratulations. Nandini and I were seated together for what seemed like hours, smiling for the cameras and posing with relatives I didn’t even recognize. I was used to being in the spotlight, but tonight felt suffocating. The weight of the occasion loomed over me, and no amount of forced smiles could ease the knot in my chest.

Finally, someone announced it was time for dinner. We were guided to the dining area, where Nandini and I were made to sit side by side at a decorated table. The teasing started immediately.

“Feed her, Manik! Don’t be shy!” Alya called out, her voice dripping with mischief.

I shot her a glare, but it did little to deter her. Cabir and Mukti joined in, cheering loudly, and soon the entire family seemed to be chanting in unison.

Nandini glanced at me, her face unreadable. She looked calm on the outside, but I could tell she was just as uncomfortable as I was. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her dupatta, a telltale sign of her nerves.
I sighed, picked up a spoonful of the dessert in front of us, and turned to her. “Here. Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered under my breath.

She hesitated for a second before leaning forward slightly, letting me feed her. The teasing grew louder, and I felt my ears burn with embarrassment.

“Your turn now, Bhabhi!” Cabir yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

Nandini’s expression hardened for a moment as if she wanted to tell everyone off, but she picked up a spoon anyway. Without looking at me, she offered it, her movements mechanical. I took a bite, and the cheering erupted again.

“Happy now?” I said, glancing at Cabir and Mukti.

“Very,” Mukti said, smirking.

The dinner felt never-ending, but eventually, it was time to move on to the main event—the part of the night I was dreading. The wedding rituals.

We were escorted to the mandap, which was elaborately decorated with hanging white orchids with green foliage in the canopy while cascading red, peach, and pink tone roses adorned the four pillars and fairy lights. The priest was already seated, chanting mantras as Nandini and I took our places on the floor. She adjusted her lehenga carefully, her movements precise and deliberate.

I sat beside her, trying to focus on the priest’s words, but my mind wandered. This wasn’t how I had imagined my life turning out. Marriage was supposed to be a partnership built on love and understanding, but here I was, marrying a woman I barely knew because my parents had asked me to.

I glanced at Nandini from the corner of my eye. Her face was calm, almost stoic, as if she had resigned herself to this fate. Did she feel as out of place as I did? Did she question this decision as much as I did?

The priest’s voice pulled me back to the present. He handed me a small silver bowl filled with rice and flowers, instructing me to offer it to the holy fire. I followed his instructions silently, my movements automatic.

As the rituals continued, my thoughts grew heavier. Was I ready for this responsibility? Marriage wasn’t just a ceremony; it was a lifetime of commitment, compromise, and understanding. Could I handle that? Would I be able to support her, understand her, and fulfill her expectations?

The priest’s voice broke through my thoughts again. He called for Nandini’s parents to step forward for the kanyadaan.

Manish Uncle and Swarna approached their expressions a mix of pride and sadness. Uncle looked at me briefly before focusing on the ritual. Aunty’s hands trembled as she placed Nandini’s hands in mine, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“This is our daughter,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “We trust you to take care of her, to support her, and to stand by her.”

I nodded stiffly, unable to muster a response. The weight of their words settled heavily on my shoulders. I didn’t know if I could live up to their expectations, but I couldn’t let that show.

Nandini’s hands felt cold in mine, her grip light, almost hesitant. I wondered what she was thinking. Did she feel the same pressure, the same uncertainty?

The priest instructed us to stand for the saat pheras. I rose first, offering my hand to Nandini. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, her touch fleeting.

We stood side by side, the holy fire crackling softly between us. The priest began reciting the vows, one for each round around the fire.

The first step was for nourishment. As we walked, I wondered if I could provide her with the emotional and physical stability she might need.

The second step was for strength. I questioned my own strength—was I strong enough to navigate this new chapter of life?

The third step was for wealth and prosperity. I knew I could fulfill this, but was material wealth enough?

With each step, my mind raced with doubts, fears, and questions. Nandini walked silently beside me, her face unreadable.

By the time we completed the seven rounds, I felt like I had been through a lifetime of introspection.

We were guided back to our seats, where the priest handed me a small box containing sindoor. I opened it carefully, the bright red powder almost glaring in contrast to the golden light of the mandap.

The priest instructed me to apply it to the parting of Nandini’s hair. My hands trembled slightly as I leaned forward, the moment feeling heavier than anything I had ever experienced. The red streak stood out vividly against her dark hair, a mark that symbolized a bond I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

Next came the mangalsutra. The priest handed it to me, and I fastened it around her neck, the black beads and gold pendant resting lightly against her skin.

The priest chanted a final mantra and then looked up at us. “You are now husband and wife,” he announced solemnly.

The room erupted into applause, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. The weight of the words settled heavily on me. Husband and wife. We were bound together now, whether we wanted it or not.
We rose to take blessings from the elders, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain—there was no turning back now.

Manik’s POV ends.

Hope you all like the chapter.....

Few words for Manik...

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Finally Manik and Nandini got married....

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Kiara ❤️❤️