Avni
I pressed my knees tightly to my chest, watching the priest chant mantras and circle the sacred fire. Every word echoed around me, but I couldn't focus. Aryan sat beside me. He was rigid, unreadable, his posture perfect and cold. He had mastered the art of stillness. There was no flicker in his eyes, no twitch in his lips, nothing to give away what he was feeling.
It was as if he didn’t even know who he was marrying.
Only I felt the crack in the moment when he applied vermillion to my hairline. That fleeting second my breath caught, and my heart stuttered not out of joy, but because I saw it in his eyes: the fracture. He was breaking inside, and for some reason, it made me feel triumph.
Pain throbbed in my legs, sharp and persistent. I’d forgotten my medicine in all the chaos, and now the dull ache had grown into something excruciating. When the priest asked us to stand, I nearly gasped. The pain shot through my legs like lightning. My father helped to sit on my chair while my brother stood next to him.
My eyes caught the knot. It was our knot. The one tying the edge of my saree to his stole. It felt less like a sacred thread and more like a chain. Binding. Suffocating.
Being this close to Aryan was unbearable. I could feel his presence, his heat but it wasn’t warmth. It was rage. He was burning beneath that perfect face. A walking wildfire, controlled only by willpower and that damn handsome jawline.
Handsome. Really? Ugh. Noor and Kavya could write poems about how “gorgeous” he was. To them, Aryan Rathore was a living, breathing fantasy.
To me, he was just a villain in an expensive sherwani.
If I were a witch, I would’ve cursed him already. Hell, I would’ve chewed him alive and sucked his blood dry. That’s how vile he made me feel.
God, I had never felt this awful.
I wished just once that he would show something. Anger. Disgust. Anything. But he just stood there, composed and silent, making me question everything.
What if this didn’t matter to him at all? What if he wasn’t even hurt? What if… what if he wanted to sleep with me to punish me?
No. No. I forced the thought away before it could take root. But then I looked at him.
And he looked back.
For a breathless moment, our eyes met.
And I forgot how to breathe.
I looked down instantly, heart pounding. That glance, did he think what I was thinking? Did he see how broken I was too?
“Now you are husband and wife,” the priest announced.
Applause erupted. Cheers. Whispers. Claps.
I stilled in my wheelchair as the crowd gathered, people stepping forward to bless us, smile at us… and judge us.
Their eyes lingered too long on my chair, then darted to Aryan. I could see the question in their faces: Why her? Why not Ira?
I didn’t blame them. I asked myself the same thing. Why him? Why not my dreams?
I was taken aback when Aryan gripped the handles of my wheelchair and began to wheel me through the crowd. Effortless. Silent. Efficient.
He didn’t look at me once, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his throat. He was angry. Maybe furious.
I smiled to myself. Good.
I wanted him to feel a fraction of what I felt the moment I lost my dream.
“Hey, bhabhi…” A stunning girl approached us, her smile wider than Aryan’s shoulders. Her voice was warm, teasing. “You’re really so beautiful.”
Aryan let out a small, dry snicker, like she’d just made a hilarious joke at my expense.
She glared at him and rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she said as she took control of my wheelchair and rolled me away from him.
And for the first time that day I could breathe. I could breath the same air he was not breathing.
“I’m Rhea,” she said, turning to me with a bright grin. “Your sister-in-law. Or in simpler terms, the only sane one in this family.”
“I’m Avni,” I replied, my voice hoarse from silence. It had been a week since the accident. A week since I’d spoken more than a few necessary words. A week since my world fell apart.
Words didn’t come easy anymore. Not when my dreams were buried under bandages and shame.
“But I already like you, Rhea.”
“You know,” she said with a laugh, “you’re the only person who ever managed to make my arrogant brother feel like he’s lost.”
I looked up at her quietly, studying her features. She had Aryan’s eyes - sharp, expressive but her smile was all her own. Genuine. Warm. Comforting.
Not like Aryan’s. I didn’t even know what his smile looked like.
Because I’d stolen it.
I stole his love. His dream girl. His future.
If he was the villain in my story…
Then maybe I was the thief in his.
Perfect.
“Where are you taking that cripple?”
The sharp voice sliced through the air like a whip. I turned my head slowly, then came face to face with the same woman who insulted my mother’s saree the moment I arrived here.
“Mom, don’t call her that!” Rhea snapped, her voice low and furious.
Mom?
I stared at the woman. She was chubby, with a permanent scowl and a mouth that was clearly her deadliest weapon. Aryan’s mother? She looked nothing like him. Where he was all sharp elegance and self-control, she was loud, careless, and overflowing with judgment.
Did I just insult my mother-in-law in my head? Probably. But I had my reasons.
It took only a few moments with her to understand exactly who she was.
First: she judged people by their appearances but not by their hearts. Likely because she didn’t have one.
Second: she cared for no one but herself. Empathy wasn’t something she lacked because it had never existed for her.
Third:her voice was more grating than a crow’s caw; in fact, I would have gladly listened to a chorus of crows over another word from her.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, frowning in mock innocence, as if she hadn’t just called me a cripple.
“Look at her,” she continued. “Dragging herself around, ruining my son’s life. She might’ve married him, but she’ll never be his wife.”
“Mom, that’s enough!” Rhea growled, turning my wheelchair and wheeling me away.
I placed a hand over hers, offering a small smile. “You don’t have to fight your mother for me. Don’t ruin your relationship because of someone like me.”
Rhea scoffed. “Are you pretending to be good, or are you really this good?”
I tilted my head. “Depends on how you see me.”
“I see my bhabhi right now.” She smiled softly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still, there was something genuine about it. She really wanted me to be part of her family. And yet… I was just here to flip her brother’s life upside down. For a few months, I would be Mrs. Aryan Rathore and then what?
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“To your family and friends. One last time… before we leave for your new home.” She hesitated before adding, “The Rathore Villa.”
And just like that, her words landed like a slap across my face. A silent, invisible strike that left me breathless. I was leaving.
Mr. Rathore had promised to arrange the best medical care for my mother, and to enroll my little brother in a prestigious school. I had to believe he'd keep his word. That was all I had now - hope.
“Hey, how are you feeling, Mrs. Rathore?”
Noor appeared with a faint, sad smile and pulled me into a gentle hug.
“I’m going to miss you so much at dance class,” she whispered. “I don’t even know if I can do Kathak without you.”
“Please… don’t remind me,” I whispered, turning my face away, trying to keep the tears from falling.
I hated crying. Hated it with everything in me. Tears didn’t fix things. They didn’t comfort. They didn’t heal.
They only made you feel weaker.
And I was not weak.
“Where’s Kavya?” I asked, switching topics quickly.
Noor glanced to the side. “Uh, she’s… there.”
I followed her gaze and there she was.
“Oh God.”
Kavya was laughing as Saurav ran his fingers down her neck. He was the same wing commander who had a girlfriend.
“What the hell is she doing?” I hissed. “I told you to keep an eye on her!”
“I’m not her babysitter, Avni,” Noor said with a shrug. “She’s a grown woman. She knows what she’s doing.”
“He told her he has a girlfriend!” I snapped.
“Saurav Bhai doesn’t have a girlfriend. Who told you that?” Rhea chimed in cheerfully, and both Noor and I turned toward her, stunned. “Actually, he’s a playboy. Breaks hearts for sport.”
“Stop her. Now!”
Noor hurried over, dragged Kavya away from Saurav, and guided her to me.
Kavya knelt down dramatically beside my wheelchair, still smiling.
“You’re leaving us!” she sighed. “You were like a candle… burning yourself to give us light. Now who’s going to burn for us?”
“Done with the drama?” I gritted out.
She giggled and hugged me tight. “I’m gonna miss you so, so much. You were like my sister. We were sisters.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling her familiar scent—memories dancing through me. Kavya and Noor were my constants. My roots. We had eaten together, played together, danced together. I couldn’t imagine a life without them.
“Avni…”
The voice cracked my soul. I looked up and saw my father. His face was crumpled, heartbreak etched into every line.
And just like that, everything I’d been holding back came crashing down.
I hadn’t said goodbye. Not to him. Not to my brother.
My parents were my strength.
My weakness.
And my everything.
_____
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