Haldi Without Her

— Aaradhya —

The yellow of the haldi felt too bright. Too happy. Too fake.

My cousins were buzzing around me, laughing, teasing, smearing turmeric on my cheeks like this was some kind of dream. And maybe it was. A nightmare, actually.

Because somewhere in the crowd, in the same courtyard where I once broke my own heart for a boy with rage in his eyes…

He stood.

Veer Malhotra.

The man I had loved like a religion.

The man I had cursed like a disease.

And now, he was here. Laughing with my fiancé. Toasting to a future I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore.

I sat on the silk cushion placed in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by petals and platitudes. My smile cracked with every dab of haldi, my skin burning—not from the turmeric, but from the weight of eyes I could feel on me.

His eyes.

Of course he’d come.

Riyan had told me just last night. “My best friend from Delhi will be here too. He’s a little intense, but once you meet him, you’ll love him.”

Love him?

I had loved him once. Too hard. Too much. And it destroyed me.

When I walked away from Veer four years ago, I told myself it was the only way. That if I stayed, I’d forget who I was. That his obsession would swallow me whole. And now, sitting here in this pretty little fairytale of someone else’s making, I realized something terrifying—

I never really stopped being his.

The haldi brushed against my lips. My aunt joked about applying it extra so my “dulha” would be head over heels. Everyone laughed.

Except me.

Because my dulha wasn’t the man my body still remembered.

It wasn’t the man who could unravel me with one stare.

Riyan was sweet. Gentle. Safe.

But Veer… Veer was danger written in poetry.

“Smile, Aaradhya,” Meera whispered. “You look like you’re going to throw someone into the lake.”

I forced a grin. “Maybe I am.”

She giggled and looked away.

And that’s when I saw him.

Standing in a corner, alone, arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t laughing now. He was watching. Me. Carefully. Like I was a math problem he couldn’t solve. Like I was his favorite war.

I felt it again. That choke of breath. That cursed ache in my chest.

And I hated it.

Why was he here?

Why now?

Why, when I had stitched myself back together—flaw by beautiful flaw—did he have to rip through it all again?

Our eyes met. He didn’t smile. Neither did I.

And in that moment, I knew something he didn’t.

I may still carry his poison.

But this time—I’d be the one to choose the dose.

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