Typed: 08/12/2023
Chapter 10: Truth

Author's POV:

He closed the door quietly, so quietly that he stood there, staring at it, clutching the doorknob to make sure he'd actually closed it. Upon confirmation, Yug gave his wooden door a slight nod, as if acknowledging its importance. He turned around and exhaled hard and loud.

He turned around, his cream-coloured sherwani well-fitted, gripping his body, keeping his pressed lungs intact for support. He coughed, clearing his throat as if to give a world-class speech. "Are you tired? I am."

Khushi nods in agreement. She wasn't sitting the way newlywed brides sit in Indian daily soaps. She sat comfortably with her legs folded as if sitting on the floor. Her hands though, which he could see since they weren't covered by the light red coloured veil, they were aggressively moving. She'd fist her hand in a tight ball, then open it, then click her knuckles, then repeat.

He moves carefully, weight so light. "I think we'd spend this night getting rid of your jewellery because they look awfully heavy and then fall asleep." He caught how her hands instantly released from the tight grip. He'd just helped her feel relaxed.

"Personally," he says comically, "I'm sleeping in this sherwani. I'm too lazy to change. I won't judge if you don't too. Although—" he glances at her rigid posture. Yug fell on the bed on his side, right in front of her, elbow by her leg lifting his face. He was super comfortable now. "—it seems it'll be hard for you to sleep in this."

Typed on 10/12/2023

Khushi smiles. She suppressed her giggle. "Yes," she settles for a simple reply rather than a lengthy one, ultimately resulting in the room breaking into hysterical laughter. "This veil is hard to take off, it's got all these bobby pins."

Yug had either watched too many daily soaps to prepare for his wedding night or he had much more common sense than Akshay, his best-friend would accept because he quickly nodded. His hands instantly held her veil, "let me help you." He took off one bobby pin after another, all secure her veil in place. "Why were you wearing the veil though?" It wasn't usual at weddings, at least not the ones he attended.

Khushi didn't take a pause, the reply came off naturally. "My mother wanted me to. It's part of her culture." Whilst, Khushi's biological, her deceased mother had belonged to another religion—the same one as her father—her stepmother came from a different caste. Khushi did not see anything wrong in approving of her stepmother's wishes because, in a way, it meant—it felt—like she had a mother.

Yug dipped his head in acknowledgement. He knew Vani wasn't Khushi's biological mother. He'd found this piece of information the day his mother had met Khushi. He doesn't know the details or circumstances in which Vani and his father-in-law got married, but he knew it was soon after his wife's real mother had died.

Brushing the topic off, he gently and carefully lifted Khushi's veil. His eyes landed on her long eyelashes, staring at her hands, her forehead showing stress as if she was thinking about her mother too. As he finally grasped to look at her face, his face fell. It took him a good second to process everything.

This isn't Khushi.

"Who are you?" His voice had a sharp edginess to it today. Khushi has spent most of her life analysing people and their behaviour professionally. And a small proportion of it—which felt like an eternity—she'd witnessed angry eyes on her twenty-four-seven. Her husband's eyes didn't hold the same level of anger though.

Yug's angry eyes were like his shield and sword, with large and heavy clouds ready to hail in one go. The kind of hail that people hadn't witnessed in decades. There wasn't anything scary or intimidating about his eyes to her because deep down she knew Yug was nothing more than a compassionate and merciful person who seemingly changed his nature according to the atmosphere. This is why she wasn't petrified that he'd do anything to her.

His eyes weren't murderous. They were nothing like Samar's. His eyes were just frozen with torrent and when that torrent was released, it felt like the downfall of the society. Though angry eyes, his voice wasn't angry. It was confused, deep and chocked. Not the crying choked but the breathless one. For the first time, his voice didn't give any air of solid confidence, it did the opposite. It sucked the air out of her.

An uneasy feeling spread through her veins, her features tightening, her face paling, losing its strong appeal and colour.

He genuinely looked surprised. Yug wasn't pulling a plank.

At first, she thought he was just being silly. Pulling one of those stupid pranks he does, he's always looked like the type of man who'd pull others' legs. He was a relaxed yet mysterious person. The handsome yet dominating one. The jokester yet the serious one.

Khushi tries to move her lips, part them, and do anything to let a smile or chuckle escape to ease the situation. To escape the tense atmosphere but nothing comes out. She's voiceless with a voice.

She just sits there. Silent. Pale. Confused. Afraid. Blank. And close to having a heartbreak.

As she stared at him for a couple of minutes—those couple of minutes were torture. He looks back at her, intently, with his earthy brown eyes, flicking with only one expression. Horror. She was the reason for his horrified expressions—and then a gasp escaped her mouth.

It can't be true. It can't. A tear slips down her eyes beautifully shadowy eyes. She'd sat in that makeup room patiently for this day. To this day. The only time she knew she'd cry was during the farewell, not in her new house.

Khushi knows there's no point in wiping that tear off her eyes. What was the point of wiping it away when one knows they'd shed a river's worth of tears tonight? So she let it roll down her rosy cheeks. His eyes are ready to hail with emotions—they already are—and hers are drowning the house in her painful sobs.

With every touch of the tear on her skin, it felt like her heart was getting torn into small pieces. Torn, kicked, stabbed, twisted in million pieces.

It was crystal clear. Unlike the clean window, she didn't have any fog to hide her vision. She could see it on his face. His emotions changed with every passing second. Betrayal was there and Khushi automatically moved back on the bed. She was afraid to see the expressions she'd seen all her life by her parents.

His expressions were playing the role of a mirror in front of her—the cold wooden board touches her skin through the light fabric of her partly removed veil and she shivers. Not from the coldness but because of his eyes.

So cold. So icy. So hateful.

He wasn't joking. How else could someone hold a stupid and irrelevant joke for more than five minutes? He went to a design school, not drama. For the first time, she felt so confident with her judgement. The fragile and constantly afraid Khushi was sure her husband had no clue who she was.

The corner of Yug's lip wasn't twitched upwards into a smirk. His usual and typical smirk was missing. Neither were his lips lingering with the slightest smile. No hint. Nothing. Just straight-lined, his forehead giving the same lines as a frown and his eyebrows were knitted together, sending a dangerous nerve down her spine.

Her heart threatened to stop beating and even her hand on her heart did no justice to the frantic and heart-thumping increasing heartbeats. The guy she dreamed of spending her whole life with didn't know who she was. What else could be worse?

Am I going to be a divorced woman? Again? Only, this time, the divorce won't be liberating.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" Her voice echoed in the silent room. It wasn't. But sometimes for the benefit of the doubt, we end up asking the question to make sure we're right. Right now, Khushi wanted to be proven wrong, and perhaps be enveloped in a warm hug, with Yug whispering things like, I was joking. It's ok, calm down.

But he doesn't say anything. He watches her with a straight face and narrowed eyes. "Yug?"

"You're not her, you're not Khushi." He finally says. His confidence seemed to disappear or rather decrease within a second because his voice came out exceptionally low like he was unsure he was even speaking to anyone. After a hesitant pause and gazing at her, looking directly into her eyes, he repeats the same question. "Who are you??"

Who am I?

His words freeze her on her spot. Did she have to bring her birth certificate now to prove she is Khushi? The part which shook her to the core and frightened her was how he questioned her, 'who are you?' The certainty of his question and how legitimate it sounded, at that moment, Khushi was sure he expected or wished someone else was Khushi instead of her.

"Y—you don't know who I actually am? I am Khushi." She raised her voice to sound sure, confident and assertive, however, the shakiness of her voice betrayed her. It expressly conveyed how scared she was of the conversation. She hated where this was heading and the worst part was, that she couldn't do anything to avoid it too.

Despite the circumstances, Yug listens to her, his full attention focused on her. Even though this is not where he expected to be tonight with his wife—having this dreaded conversation—he listens to each word she says, absorbing the information, trying to solve the puzzle.

"You came to my house with the marriage proposal. For me. I am Khushi Gupta. I am the woman you wanted to marry." Her voice doesn't show a tantrum but more of a plea. Begging him to understand that she has not lied to him. His eyes were so close yet so distanced from her.

She weeps watching his hazy eyes and grabs a hold of his hand, squeezing it hard. It was more for her comfort and to be sure he wouldn't leave her that she held his hand. "Please. Please." They both are unsure what she means with her plead but one thing is clear, Khushi is not going to let go of her husband, Yug, ever.

Yug doesn't push her hand away from him, despite the circumstances, he is not disrespectful or inconsiderate, though raging with anger. He simply gets up, the movement automatically releases him of her touch. He stands away from her, his solid back in view.

Khushi follows her husband's steps and gets off the bed, clutching her heavy lehenga tightly with all the energy she has left. Though her body was tired and the cold floor made contact with her bare feet, it was nothing compared to her spouse's expressions and wrath.

"You can't." His voice raises now, angrily. He shakes his head furiously, his hair falling on his temple from the force. "You can't be her." Khushi's puzzled. "I wanted to marry her," he points at a picture frame near his window on a small side table. His bride's eyes fall short at the sight of the frame.

It was her younger sister. Her half-sister, Isha.

Her fingers tremble, more than her body, her hand gives out and the frame falls crashing on the floor. It's glass shattered, however, nowhere near her heart and her husband's. Theirs was shattered more.

She finds herself whispering something no woman in her position would ever dream of, not even as a joke. Her heart ripped more as the next words that came out of her mouth bounced in the empty room. Though fully furnished, the room was so empty. Empty of compassion. "This is m—my sister." As this escaped out of her mouth, she let out a loud pitiful, sad, damaged sob.

The picture was of her half-sister, Isha. Not only her parents—who'd always picked Isha over her—but her husband too. Unintentionally. Unintentionally everything and everyone left Khushi as a backup. As the second option.

She couldn't stop herself from crying. Today, the sixth of December, the day she thought would be so special to her. So special but it became her worst nightmare.

Her husband didn't recognise her. He wanted to marry her sister. Not her. All those dreams, those vows they took, they were all meant for someone else. Not me. Those feelings weren't for her.

She could see her future drifting away from her, the worst part was she couldn't do anything to stop it.

After what felt like a lifetime with a burning head, Yug said the most dreaded words, "I can't stay with you." His voice was sad. Remorseful and pitiful. He pitied her. He sympathised with her but just because he couldn't so openly display his emotions like her, it didn't mean he wasn't hurting. As Khushi shrieked openly, he screamed internally.

It was too early to decide the faith of this marriage. Too early but something had to be said. Something. So he said it. He said what felt natural to be expressed in this situation.

Yug moved and took two small steps to approach Khushi. He doesn't know why. To provide support? Or look into her eyes again to reassure himself that yes, this isn't the right Khushi, or subconsciously begging her to stop him. Stop him so he'd change his decision.

He stopped halfway. Unsure. In his nearly six to seven years of career, he's been in various situations and he'd always dealt with it but this. This wasn't his career. This was his marriage. Khushi didn't avoid looking at him. She stared at him, hard, her face flaring in anger. For him or her family? He doesn't know the answer to it. There's something so powerful in her eyes, something fierce and promising.

At that moment, the stormy look on her face had said it all; Khushi would not let him leave her.

The Unwanted Bride

Pls don't forget to vote, it helps me understand whether people like the story or not + helps me stay motivated enough to write :D