The sacred thread of marriage, tied in haste and clouded by misunderstandings, now bound Khushi to a man she once saw through the lens of love—Arnav Singh Raizada.
Her bangles clinked gently as she stepped over the threshold of Shantivan, her bridal red dulled under the weight of betrayal. The vermilion in her maang, the mangalsutra around her neck—it all felt heavy. Unwanted. Forced.
Anjali: (rushing forward with joy)
“Khushi ji! Aap… aap sach mein hamari Chhoti Bahu ban gayi? Arnav ne... shaadi kar li?”
(You really became our younger daughter-in-law? Arnav actually married you?)
Khushi managed a weak smile. She couldn’t meet Anjali’s eyes.
Khushi:
“Ji, Di... ho gayi shaadi.”
(Yes, Di... we got married.)
Arnav entered behind her, his face expressionless. His eyes met Khushi’s for a split second—hard, unreadable. She looked away.
Devyani (Nani): (placing a hand on Khushi's head lovingly)
“Hamesha khush raho, bitiya. Tum aayi ho is ghar mein Lakshmi bankar.”
(Stay happy always, dear. You’ve come into this house like Goddess Lakshmi.)
Khushi felt a sharp sting in her chest. Lakshmi? No… she was a pawn. A prisoner in a game she didn’t even know she was playing.
The family celebrated in ignorance. There was no baraat, no pheras, no saath vachan. Just a registrar, a signature, and Arnav's command.
As the night settled, Khushi stood in the middle of Arnav’s—no, their—bedroom. The air between them was thick with silence. Tension crackled like static.
Khushi: (softly, her voice breaking the quiet)
“Arnav ji… kyun kiya aapne aisa? Kyun?”
(Why did you do this, Arnav ji? Why?)
Arnav turned, his eyes dark.
Arnav:
“Tumhe sach mein nahi pata, Khushi Kumari Gupta? Ya ab Singh Raizada kahna chahiye?”
(You really don’t know? Or should I say Singh Raizada now?)
Khushi: (stepping forward, eyes brimming)
“Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha. Aapne shaadi kar ke mujhe is bandhan mein kyun baandha?”
(I don’t understand anything. Why did you trap me in this bond through marriage?)
He laughed bitterly.
Arnav:
“Tum jaanti ho Shyam ko, na? Tumhara hone wala pati. Tum dono ke beech jo maine suna, wo jhoot tha? Tum usse door jaane ka natak kar rahi thi?”
(You know Shyam, right? Your would-be husband. What I heard between you two—was that a lie? Were you pretending to walk away from him?)
Khushi’s world spun.
Khushi: (shocked)
“Aapne humein suna? Kya suna?”
(You heard us? What did you hear?)
Arnav: (cutting her off)
“Bas! Mujhe farak nahi padta. Anjali Di maa banne wali hain. Main unka ghar tootte hue nahi dekh sakta. Isiliye… tumhe shaadi karni padi mujhse.”
(Enough! I don’t care. Anjali Di is pregnant. I won’t let her family break. That’s why... you had to marry me.)
Khushi: (a tear rolling down her cheek)
“Toh aapne mujhe saza di? Bina sach jaane? Mujhe… mujhe dhoka diya aapne.”
(So you punished me? Without knowing the truth? You... you betrayed me.)
Arnav: (coldly)
“Yeh shaadi sirf 6 mahine chalegi. Uske baad... tum ja sakti ho.”
(This marriage will last only six months. After that... you can leave.)
Khushi stepped back as if slapped. Six months. She was nothing more than a placeholder in Arnav Singh Raizada’s life.
Khushi:
“Aur uske baad? Kya sab kuch jaise tha waisa ho jaayega? Mera dil… meri zindagi… kuch bhi maayne nahi rakhta aapke liye?”
(And after that? Everything goes back to normal? My heart… my life… means nothing to you?)
Arnav: (quietly, almost whispering)
“Tumne meri Di ka ghar todna chaha. Tumhare liye mere paas koi jagah nahi bachi.”
(You tried to break my Di’s home. There’s no place for you in my heart now.)
Khushi turned away, swallowing a sob. Her heart cracked open—again.
She lay on the recliner that night, curled up with her dupatta clutched tightly to her chest. On the bed, Arnav stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open. The guilt clawed at his insides, but his anger screamed louder.
Outside, the wind howled through Delhi’s sky. Inside, two hearts lay broken—too proud, too hurt to admit the truth.
-×-
To be continued…
Chapter 2: Dil Ki Sadaa
By
Muskan Tarway
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