7. Betrayal

Krisha's Pov

I stood before the full length mirror, my breath catching in my throat. The yellow silk draped over my shoulder felt like a warm embrace from the past. It wasn't just a saree, it was my mother's soul woven into fabric. The vibrant yellow saree made my skin glow, providing a radiant mask for the exhaustion underneath.

I had left my hair open, the dark waves cascading down my back like a silken waterfall. With minimal makeup just a touch of kohl to define my tired eyes and a small bindi. I looked breathtaking. The gold jewelry made soft clicking sounds every time I moved, a regal sound that masked the trembling of my heart. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe. I looked gorgeous.

Taking a final look, I pulled myself together and stepped out of my room. As I walked down the stairs, my hand gripped the railing like a lifeline. I had expected a small, suffocating circle of my own family members those people who were always ready to bring me down.

But as I reached the bottom step, I froze.

The hall wasn't just filled with my family. Standing there, amidst the flowers and the incense of the pooja setup, was the entire Rajvansh family. Kavya Aunty, Advik, and even Kashvi were already there, seated alongside my own relatives. The sudden sight of them sent a jolt of electricity through me. This wasn't just a home prayer, this was a formal gathering.

Advik's head turned first. As his eyes landed on me, his breath visibly hitched. He looked mesmerized, his gaze fixed on me. Beside him, Kashvi's eyes widened with a mixture of awe and sadness, while Urmila's face twisted into a familiar mask of jealousy.

My fingers curled into the silk of my saree. I hadn't been told they were coming this early. The presence of Advik's family made the air feel twice as heavy. Every genuine smile from Kavya Aunty and every hopeful glance from Advik felt like a trap, pulling me into a life, I was planning to escape.

Then, a voice broke the tension-Dadi.

"Aree meri laddo! Kitni pyari lag rahi hai. Thu thu... nazar na lage kisi ki," she said, circling her hands around me to ward off evil eyes. I just stood still, giving her a small, tight smile as everyone began to approach and greet me.

Kashvi pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Agar aaj Aunty hoti na, toh woh sabse zyada khush hoti, Krisha," she whispered against my ear. My chest felt like it was being crushed under a heavy stone, but I forced back the tears.

Dadi held my hand, leading me to sit in front of the home temple where the priest was preparing the ritual. Advik sat beside me. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, but I could feel his gaze heavy and expectant burning into the side of my face. As the priest chanted mantras and the hawan kund crackled, we were asked to offer sacred materials to the flames. The priest tied a red thread around our wrists-a symbol of a bond I was already planning to break.

The ritual was long, and my patience was thinning. Just then, my phone buzzed in my lap.

Karan.

I stood up immediately, but Urmila's voice cut through the chanting like a jagged knife.

"Are, kaha jaa rahi ho?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest with that condescending smirk.

I turned to her, my eyes cold. "Aapko batana zaruri hai?" I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care about the Rajvanshs' presence. I was so done with this theater.

"Mera matlab hai, sab mehmaan yaha hain aur tum aise hi muh utha kar jaa rahi ho," she snapped, her tone dripping with fake concern for decorum.

I ignored her completely, turning instead to Dadi and squeezing her hand. "Dadi, abhi aati hoon. Kuch kaam hai." Without waiting for an answer, I turned on my heel and walked away from the sacred fire, leaving that perfect family scene behind.

I ran to my room, the dim light feeling like a safe spot away from the heavy smell of incense and all those watching eyes. I sank onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands. I was so done with this the lies, the rituals, the theater. I wasn't a girl who played games with people's hearts, but I felt backed into a corner with no exit. I knew that by the end of today, I would break the people who loved me, and that realization felt like a slow poison in my veins.

The silence was absolute until a deep, gravelly voice shattered it.

"Shaadi kar rahi ho, Ms. Krisha."

My eyes snapped open, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it was painful. My breath hitched as I scanned the shadows, my gaze landing on the couch in the corner. Someone was sitting there, legs crossed with an air of dark elegance.

I froze. My blood turned to liquid ice as the figure came into focus. It was him.

Dhairya Singh Shekhawat.

"YOU- ?" I shouted, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and fury. I stood up, my pulse racing, but he didn't even flinch. He remained seated for a heartbeat, watching me like a hunter watching its prey.

Then, he stood up.

He began walking toward me, his steps slow, deliberate, and silent. With every inch he gained, I lost ground, stepping backward instinctively until-thud. My back hit the cold wall. I was trapped between the wall and him.

He stepped into my personal space, so close I could smell his expensive cologne-charcoal, wood, and something dangerously manly. I expected a taunt or a threat. Instead, he did something that made my world tilt.

He reached out, his large, warm hand cupping my face.

His thumb grazed my cheeks, and my breath hitched. I found myself drowning in his eyes those deep eyes that seemed to look right through my mask and into my soul. My heart skipped a beat. Oh my God, his eyes... they're beautiful. I quickly shook the thought away. Shut up, Krisha! Focus! Focus!

"Behad khubsurat lag rahi ho," he whispered, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that sent a violent shiver down my spine.

(You look beyond beautiful.)

I forgot how to breathe. The air in the room felt electric, heavy with a tension I didn't understand. He reached out with his other hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin just a second too long.

"Saanse lo, Krisha... Main nahi chahata apni shaadi ke din tumhe kuch ho," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.

(Breathe, Krisha... I don't want anything to happen to you on your wedding day.)

His voice broke the spell. I gasped, finally finding my lungs. The reality of who he was and where we were crashed back into me. I jerked my face away from his touch and scrambled to the side, putting distance between us. A slow, lethal smirk spread across his face, as if he enjoyed the effect he had on me.

"What... what are you doing?" I asked, my voice betraying me with its breathy hesitation. I couldn't look at him, I was terrified of what he might see in my eyes.

"Filhaal toh tumhe dekh raha hoon," he said, his voice dripping with an unapologetic, raw honesty that made my skin tingle.

(Right now, I'm just looking at you.)

I looked at him then, my frustration finally bubbling over. "Ye kya harkat hai? Kyu aaye ho yaha?"

(What is this behavior? Why are you here?)

He took a casual step toward me again, leaning his shoulder against the bedpost, looking far too comfortable in my private room.

"Bs aise hi," he replied simply, as if breaking into a bride's room on her wedding day was the most natural thing in the world.

My heart thudded. Was he insane? Or was he the most dangerous distraction I'd ever faced?

He didn't move away. Instead, he again leaned closer, his hand lingering near my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a feather light touch that felt like a brand.

"Tumhe andaza bhi hai tum kya karne ja rahi ho hmm?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerously low vibration.

(Do you even have an idea of what you're about to do?)

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes locked onto his emerald ones. "Main wahi kar rahi hoon jo mujhe theek lagta hai, Mr. Shekhawat. Ab aap jaiye yahan se."

(I'm doing what I feel is right... Now leave.)

I told him to leave, and for once, the arrogant Dhairya Singh Shekhawat actually listened. He stepped back, his eyes lingering on mine for one last, suffocating second before he walked out of my room with that predatory grace.

It was strange. He usually did exactly what he wanted, yet he left the moment I asked. But it didn't matter. I hated him. I couldn't no, I wouldn't forget what happened five years ago. That memory was a scar that refused to fade, a constant reminder of why he was the villain in my story.

A sharp knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. I opened the door to find a servant standing there, head bowed.

"Dadi is calling you downstairs, Ma'am."

"Okay, I'm coming," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

I closed the door and turned to the mirror one last time. I adjusted the pleats of my mother's saree, my fingers trembling slightly. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to bury the 'Krisha' who felt too much and bring out the 'Krisha' who was made of ice.

As I descended the stairs, the air in the hall felt heavy, charged with a tension I knew all too well. Everyone was there. And right in the center of it all, sitting on the couch as if he owned the entire mansion, was Dhairya.

His eyes found mine instantly. They were fixed, intense, and unyielding. I felt that familiar shiver race down my spine the one his presence always commanded but I forced my gaze away. I took a seat beside Kashvi, trying to blend into the background of a conversation about wedding rituals that I had zero interest in.

I kept my eyes downward, focusing on the intricate gold border of my saree, but I could still feel him. Across from me, he sat like a king on a stolen throne. His words from earlier kept looping in my mind like a broken record: Behad khubsurat lag rahi ho.

Stop it, Krisha. Don't think about him, I scolded myself.

My gaze shifted slightly and landed on Reyansh, who was sitting beside Advik. He caught my eye and immediately rolled his eyes, looking away with a scoff. I didn't know what his problem was, but his constant hostility was the last thing I needed. It felt like God was playing a twisted game-the more I tried to ignore these men, the more they were shoved into my life.

Just as I felt I might suffocate, Karan entered the hall. I felt a wave of genuine relief wash over me. I offered him a small, rare smile, and he gave me a subtle nod, a silent signal that we needed to talk.

"Main abhi aati hoon," I whispered to Kashvi.

As I stood up and walked toward the garden, I felt a burning sensation on my back. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Dhairya's gaze followed me like a physical touch until I cleared the doorway. Once we were in the garden, hidden by the lush greenery, I let out a long, ragged sigh.

"Thank God you're here, Karan. I was literally suffocating in there."

Karan looked at me, a soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. "Tu toh aaj sach mein sundar lag rahi hai," he said with a small laugh.

(You look really beautiful today.)

I gave him a playful glare. "What do you mean? Main hamesha sundar nahi lagti?"

His smile faded into something more wistful. "Aaj zyada achi lag rahi hai... I wish Aunty was here to see you."

The mention of my mother hit me like a physical blow. A pang of sadness tightened my throat. "Tum sabne aaj mujhe emotional karne ka theka le rakha hai kya? Everyone is saying the same thing that she should have been here."

(Have you all taken the contract to make me emotional today?)

I looked up at the sky, my eyes stinging.

"Karan, if she were alive... if she were here with me right now... this marriage wouldn't be happening. My life would be so different. I'd be following my passion, my dreams, not tied to this cold business world. My life would be beautiful, not this living hell."

I meant every word. Without her, I was just a girl fighting a war in a house that felt like a grave.

"You know, Karan... I'm not the kind of person who likes playing with the hearts of those who love me," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. I looked at the dark horizon, my vision blurring. "But sometimes, you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. I'm not just doing this for myself. I'm doing it for Advik, for Kashvi, for their whole family. It's better they hate me for a month, a year, maybe even a decade... rather than suffering a lifetime in a marriage that is nothing but a hollow lie. I just can't do it to them. I can't do it to myself."

Karan stepped closer, his presence a steady anchor in my chaotic sea. His eyes, usually filled with professional sharpness, were now soft with a rare, protective warmth. "I understand, Krisha. I really do. Just trust yourself. You're the strongest girl I've ever met-heck, the strongest person I know. This is just a phase it hurts, but you'll get through it." He reached out and patted my shoulder, his hand steady and grounding. After talking about our plans and some business deals.

"It's so cold out here," I murmured, my teeth nearly chattering. "Winter is my favorite, but god, it's freezing today."

Karan let out a small, breathless chuckle. "Yeah, it really is."

I looked up at him, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"You've always been there, Karan. Like a real brother. Not like Shaurya... my own blood, yet he doesn't even realize I exist unless he needs a favor or a signature. You're the only family I've chosen."

"Always, Choti," he replied softly. Even though we were practically the same age, that nickname always made me feel like I had someone looking out for me someone who wouldn't let me fall.

Moved by the raw emotion of the moment, I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him. It was a desperate, pure hug-a silent thank you to the only person who knew the truth of the war I was fighting.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The rhythmic, mocking sound of hands meeting echoed through the garden, slicing through our moment like a jagged blade.

My blood turned to ice. We jerked apart, my heart hammering against my ribs. There, standing on the stone path with a poisonous smirk across her face, was Urmila. Beside her stood Priya, Dadi, Kashvi, and Kavya Aunty. The air in the garden instantly turned toxic. I kept my face blank, my chin high, but inside, I felt a familiar dread. Urmila's mind was a gutter, and I knew she was about to drag me into it.

"Aaj shaadi hone wali hai madam ji ki, aur yeh yaha gulchare uda rahi hai. Wah, Krisha!" she mocked, her voice dripping with enough venom to kill.

(Today is the wedding, and here she is, having her little flings. Wow!)

"What are you even saying?" I asked, my voice laced with rising heat and pure confusion.

"You heard me! You and this bastard Karan... what exactly is going on between you two?" she shouted, her face contorting with malice.

My eyes widened. The air around me seemed to catch fire. "Awaaz niche! Keep your voice down! What utter rubbish are you talking? How dare you call him that!"

"Dekh rahi ho sasu maa ji? Kavya? Kaise support kar rahi hai apne aashiq ko!" she yelled, pointing a finger at us. Dadi and Kashvi remained silent, their trust in me visible they know about karan, but Urmila wasn't stopping.

(See, mother in law? Kavya? Look how she supports her lover!)

"Shut up! JUST SHUT UP!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the mansion walls.

The shouting was enough to draw the rest of them out. Within seconds, Advik, Dhairya, Reyansh, and Dhruv were sprinting toward us, their faces covered with confusion.

"What is going on here?" Advik asked, his gaze darting between me and Karan.

Urmila let out a sharp, manic laugh.

"Ask your to-be wife what she and her lover were doing here alone."

That was the final straw. Karan stepped in front of me, his body a literal shield between me and her vile accusations.

"How dare you speak about her like that? Have some shame!"

"Khud toh anaath ho! Tumhari himmat kaise hui mere samne bolne ki?" Urmila shrieked, her voice reaching a glass-shattering pitch.

(You're just an orphan! How dare you speak in front of me?)

The word 'Anaath' (Orphan) hit me harder than any physical blow ever could. Karan had grown up with nothing, no one to call his own until he met me. I had fought to make sure he never felt that void, and to hear her weaponize his loneliness was more than I could bear. My vision went red. Tears of pure rage welled up in my eyes.

I grabbed Karan's arm, pulling him aside with a strength I didn't know I had. I stepped into Urmila's space, my hand already raised, ready to leave a permanent mark on her face, but Dadi's hand shot out and caught my wrist in a tight grip.

"Dadi, chhodo mujhe!" I hissed, my voice shaking with the force of my fury. "I've heard enough about myself over the years. I've taken her insults, her taunts, everything! But not a single word against Karan. Not today. Not ever."

I turned my burning gaze back to Urmila.

"HOW DARE SHE TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THIS! WHO GAVE HER THE RIGHT?"

I jerked my hand away from Dadi's grip, a scream of pure agony and rage escaping my throat. Karan immediately caught my arm, his touch the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.

"Shh... krisha, koi baat nahi. It doesn't matter," he said quietly, his own voice thick as he wiped a stray tear from my cheek.

"Aise kaise koi baat nahi, Karan?" I sobbed, my strength finally deserting me. "I failed as a sister. How can someone insult you like that while I'm standing right here? I'm supposed to protect you!"

My knees gave out, and I hit the cold grass, the weight of the secrets, the impending marriage, and this final insult crushing the life out of me.

Dadi looked at the group, her face a mask of iron. She saw me broken on the ground, and something in her finally snapped against Urmila. "Chalo yahan se sab! Move! Now!" she commanded, her voice like thunder. She signaled for everyone to leave Karan and me alone.

I felt the weight of a gaze on me before they turned-Dhairya. His eyes were dark, heavy, and completely unreadable, lingering on my slumped form for a second too long before he followed the others inside.

I stayed there for a long time, my face buried in my palms, leaning into Karan as he sat beside me, soothing my back. Finally, the tears stopped. I stood up, the cold wind drying the salt on my cheeks. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my eyes turning into shards of ice.

"I'm so sorry, Karan," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips as I stood in the aftermath of the garden's cold air and Urmila's venom. My voice felt like it was crumbling under the weight of the insults he'd just endured for me.

"I don't want to break down in front of all these people. Ever since this marriage was fixed, my tears just won't stop. Sometimes it makes me feel weak... but deep down, I know I'm not. After her death, this is the first time my emotions are spilling out all at once, like a storm I can no longer hold inside. And then Urmila how dare she."

Karan didn't hesitate. He stood up, his expression hardening into that of a protective brother, and gently wiped my tears away. "Don't be sorry, Krisha. Tune kuch galat nahi kara," he said softly, his voice firm.

(You haven't done anything wrong.)

"There is nothing wrong with letting your emotions spill out. Some feelings stay buried for so long that when they finally rise to the surface, they only prove how strong you were for holding them in."

"But-"

"No buts," he cut me off, a sudden, sharp smirk ghosting across his lips-the kind of smirk that reminded me we weren't just victims. "Aaj teri shaadi hai. Jaa, taiyaar hoja."

(Today is your wedding. Go, get ready.)

"Jaa rahi hoon. Khayal rakhna apna," I said, offering him a sweet, knowing smile. Only we knew the storm that was brewing behind the calm. Only we knew that the wedding everyone was preparing for was about to become a headline no one expected.

I looked at him and gave him a single, knowing, sharp nod. The plan was still on. If anything, Urmila had just given me the fuel I needed to burn this whole house down.

I walked back toward the house. The hall, which had been a chaotic mess of people and accusations minutes ago, was now eerily empty. Everyone had left to finalize the preparations-the flowers, the mandap, the guests. Everyone was busy preparing for a celebration, and I? I had my own preparations to finish.

Hours later, I was sitting in my room. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and heavy perfumes. I was draped in the red bridal lehenga, the fabric so heavy with gold embroidery. I had refused a professional makeup artist, I didn't want a mask of heavy foundation. Instead, my cousins were fussing over my hair and a light touch of kohl and lipstick, all because Dadi had insisted.

When they finally finished and stepped back left the room, I looked into the mirror.

My heart stopped.

The woman staring back at me wasn't just Krisha. I was the mirror image of my mother. I looked breathtaking, gorgeous in a way that defied words, but the sight didn't bring me joy. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the reflection. In this moment, I didn't care about the plan or the business or the revenge. And not because of the situation, but because I miss her. When she was alive, I never imagined a day would come when I would have to live without her.

Every girl dreams of her mother standing behind her on her wedding day, fixing her veil, whispering that everything will be okay. I was standing here in my bridal finery, and the silence where her voice should have been was deafening.

I needed her. I wanted her. I'd barely smiled with an open heart since she left, This world has given me more pain than happiness. And today... today I was about to break bonds that were supposed to last a lifetime. Today was going to be the toughest day of my life-when the truth comes out. Because the truth always finds its way to the surface.

A stray tear escaped, threatening to ruin the kohl. Just then, the door creaked open.

"Laddo," a soft voice called.

Dadi walked toward me, her eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and pain. I didn't say a word, I just stood up and hugged her so tightly I thought I might break.

"Dadi-" My voice broke, the emotions I'd been stifling finally flooding out.

"Bilkul apni maa ki tarha pyari lag rahi hai," she whispered, pulling me back to look at me.

(You look exactly as lovely as your mother.)

She took my hand, leading me to sit on the edge of the bed. "When your mother, Swati, got married... she looked so beautiful. I thought I'd never see a more stunning bride in my life. But seeing you today in this bridal joda? Whatever joy I felt back then, Swati must be feeling the exact same thing watching you from above."

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, her thumb grazing my chin in the sweetest, most maternal way. "I just want my Laddo to be happy. Today is a big day, don't be so sad. I know the circumstances of this marriage haven't been easy, but once you're settled, I'm going on a tirth yatra (pilgrimage). I'll finally be tension-free."

I looked at her, pouting to try and lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Aur main yahan akeli kya karungi, haan?"

(And what will I do here alone?)

"Tu akeli thodi rahegi? Tera pati, tera naya pariwar tere sath hoga," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

(You won't be alone. Your husband, your new family will be with you.)

"Nahi! Main bhi aapke hi sath jaungi," I joked, folding my arms over my heavy lehenga.

(No! I'll come with you.)

"Hatt pagal!" Dadi laughed, giving me a light, playful slap on my shoulder. "Shaadi ke baad mere sath tirth yatra par jayegi? Bilkul bewakoof hai. Tu toh apne pati ke sath honeymoon par jayegi!"

(Go away, crazy girl! You'll go on a pilgrimage with me after marriage? You're a fool. You'll be going on a honeymoon with your husband!)

She teased me, her eyes dancing with mischief. For a fleeting second, the room felt light. We were laughing, the typical banter of a grandmother and a bride. But as I looked at Dadi's happy face, a cold shiver ran through me.

She was dreaming of my marriage and happiness. I was dreaming of an exit.

"Aree Dadi, aap bhi na," I muttered, a shy flush creeping onto my cheeks despite the ice in my veins. She leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss on my forehead, her lips warm against my skin.

"Humesha khush rahe," she whispered, her voice a fragile prayer.

(May you stay happy forever.)

The love in her eyes was so thick I could almost touch it, but beneath it, there was a layer of pain-a silent apology for the world she was handing me over to.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. I opened it to find a servant standing there, head bowed in that submissive way I'd always hated.

"Vikrant sir is calling you downstairs, Ma'am."

"Okay, we're coming," I replied. Dadi took my hand one last time, squeezing it with a strength that surprised me, as if she were physically transferring her power into my soul to help me survive the night.

We descended the stairs together. At the home temple, I bowed my head, feeling the cold marble beneath my knees. Dadi took a thick divine thread a mix of sacred yellow and vibrant red-and tied it firmly around my wrist.

"Yeh humesha apne paas rakhna, Yeh tere upar koi bhi pareshani aane nahi dega." she said, resting her palm on my head. I looked at the thread, a bitter thought crossing my mind: Can this thread protect me from myself, Dadi?

(Keep this with you always. It won't let any trouble come near you.)

The drive to the wedding venue was a blur of neon city lights and suffocating silence. When we arrived, the doors opened to a scene straight out of a fairy tale. The area was fully open to the night sky, decorated like a piece of heaven fallen to earth. Fairy lights hung from the trees like weeping stars, and fresh flowers were scattered across the ground in waves of white and gold. A small water fountain danced in the center, its mist catching the light.

It was dreamy. It was beautiful. And to me, it felt like a cage. I knew that in a few hours, I would be the one to ruin all of this beauty.

As we walked inside, Kashvi spotted me. She was a vision in a light pink lehenga, looking absolutely gorgeous, but the second she saw me, her expression shifted into something unreadable-pure, raw emotion. She ran toward me.

"Aree, aaram se!" I gasped as she collided with me in a bone-crushing hug.

When she pulled back, her eyes were swimming in tears. Oh god, why? Why was everyone being so emotional? What I was about to do to these people... it felt like a crime.

"You're looking like a Goddess," she whispered, her voice trembling. I reached out, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with my thumb.

I moved through the crowd like a ghost in bridal lehenga. I met Richa Di, whose own wedding with Dhruv was just two days away and Kavya Aunty, whose genuine smiles felt like stabs to my heart. Every relative I greeted, every blessing I received, felt like a debt I had no intention of paying back.

Finally, Kashvi took my hand, leading me away from the noise and the prying eyes. She stopped in front of a door. Bolted to the center was a tag that made my stomach flip.

BRIDE'S ROOM

Kashvi opened the door and push me inside, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

An hour had passed in that room, but it felt like a century. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. My hands shook as I grabbed it. It was Karan. I answered immediately, not even checking the door.

"Sab sahi ja raha hai na?" I whispered, my voice thick with anxiety.

(Everything is going well, right?)

"Haan, tension mat le. Sab plan ke according hai," Karan's voice crackled through the speaker. A wave of relief washed over me, so intense I almost slumped over. But that relief was short-lived.

(Yes, don't worry. Everything is going according to the plan.)

"Konsa plan?"

A third voice cut through the air. My blood turned to ice. I spun around to see Kashvi standing in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes darting between me and the phone. I hadn't realized I'd put him on speaker while I was checking a document on my screen.

I fumbled, my fingers slipping as I scrambled to end the call.

"Woh... haan... woh business plan ki baat kar rahe the," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

(We were talking about a business plan.)

Kashvi watched me for a long beat, her gaze searching mine. Finally, she let out a breath. "Acha, theek hai. Tune toh dara diya tha mujhe."

(Okay, fine. You really scared me for a minute.)

She walked toward me, but I couldn't meet her eyes. I just hummed a response, my throat too tight to speak.

"Chal, sab wait kar rahe hain mandap pe," she said, taking my hand.

(Come on, everyone is waiting at the altar.)

As we stepped outside, the grandeur of the venue felt like a mockery. Guests were smiling, the lights were twinkling, and the fragrance of expensive flowers was suffocating. I saw Urmila and Priya looking at me with their usual disdain, and my father standing there like a cold, marble statue. Shaurya? I didn't even want to look his way.

Kashvi led me to the mandap, helping me sit on the velvet cushions.

"Where is Advik?" Dev Uncle (Kashvi's father) asked, looking around with a frown.

"Mai dhund kar aati hoon Papa, unka call bhi nahi lag raha," Kashvi said, her brow furrowing.

(I'll go find him Papa, his phone isn't connecting.)

"Mai bhi chalti hoon saath mein," Richa Di added, and they both hurried off.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. The air at the mandap grew heavy with a different kind of tension. Guests began to whisper. Dev Uncle was pacing, his phone glued to his ear.

When Kashvi and Richa returned, their faces were masks of pure panic.

"Advik bhaiya kahi nahi mil rahe," Kashvi said, her voice trembling.

(Advik brother is nowhere to be found.)

"Hey Bhagwan! Kaha hai yeh ladka?" Kavya Aunty gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

Chaos erupted. Everyone scrambled to find him, running in different directions, shouting his name into the night.

In the mid, I felt Kashvi's eyes on me. Just for a second. It was a look of dawning suspicion that made my skin crawl.

I sat there, the perfect bride, while my phone buzzed again in the folds of my lehenga. Karan.

The stress was eating me alive. I stood up and moved to a corner behind a pillar, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps. I picked up the call.

"Hello, Karan? Woh theek hai na?" I whispered frantically.

(Hello, Karan? Is he okay?)

Before Karan could utter a single word, a hand reached from behind me and snatched the phone away. I spun around, my heart stopping. It was Kashvi.

Her face was unrecognizable-twisted with a mix of betrayal and horror. She held the phone to her ear, and I heard Karan's voice, clear and triumphant: "Haan, sab perfect ho gaya."

(Yes, everything went perfectly.)

Kashvi's hand dropped. She ended the call, her eyes burning into mine.

"Kya perfect ho gaya, Krisha?" she asked. Her voice was low, dangerous. I stopped breathing. The world around us seemed to fade into a blur. I couldn't find a single word to say.

"I ASKED YOU SOMETHING, KRISHA! TELL ME!" she shouted, the sound echoing through the garden.

Tears finally welled up in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks. Kashvi's own eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling as she looked at me-not as a friend, but as a stranger.

"You... you did this," she whispered, the betrayal realization shattering her.