Yes or No?

EPISODE 3 — “THE YES SHE NEVER SAID”

SANA’S POV

If someone asked me how I agreed to marry Arun Rajput, I would like to say something dramatic:

Like — “I looked into his eyes and felt destiny whispering.”

Or — “My heart chose him before my mouth did.”

Or — “He touched my soul without touching me.”

But no.

The truth was FAR less poetic.

I… I said “okay.”

Indirectly.

Accidentally.

Without thinking.

In the dumbest way possible.

And now?

MY ENTIRE HOUSE WAS ON FIRE.

Not literally, but emotionally.

My mother screamed like India won the World Cup.

My father called every relative like he was announcing a new smartphone launch.

My grandma started searching for wedding muhurtham timings like she was checking stock market fluctuations.

My cousin sisters began creating a “Sana wedding Pinterest board” after telling me:

“You don’t deserve a man this calm.”

Rude but accurate.

And me?

I sat on the sofa staring at the wall like a traumatised potato.

“How did this happen,” I whispered to myself.

I replayed it again in my mind.

We were at the café yesterday, awkward and soft and way-too-close emotionally. We said goodbye, walked in opposite directions, and then… he texted.

Arun: “Can we meet again?”

I stared at the message for 10 minutes, kicked my pillow twice, screamed into a blanket, and then typed:

Me: “I mean… we can… if you want… I guess.”

WHICH APPARENTLY IS A YES.

To my mother, “I guess” \= wedding confirmed.

To my father, “if you want” \= start decorations.

To the universe, “we can” \= start preparing for marriage because Sana has finally agreed.

I regretted everything.

“Amma,” I groaned, “I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no,” she replied, stuffing laddoos into boxes.

“Not saying no doesn’t mean yes!”

“In Indian families it does,” she said.

I was doomed.

My phone buzzed again.

It was him.

Arun: “Is your family happy?”

Why. WHY DID HE ASK LIKE WE WERE ALREADY ENGAGED??

I typed:

Me: “They’re acting like you proposed.”

He replied instantly.

Arun: “They will calm down… eventually.”

OH. MY. GOD.

He didn’t deny it.

My stomach was doing backflips.

Why was he like this?? Why did he make everything sound so simple and soft?? Why did I feel like smiling when I was supposed to panic??

I threw my phone onto the bed.

I needed a break.

Instead, I got relatives.

Dozens of them.

Calling.

Texting.

Sending congratulations.

Making lists.

Selecting colours.

Choosing jewellery.

I wanted to scream.

This was marriage. Marriage! M-A-R-R—

“Baby…” my mom said, voice suspiciously gentle.

Oh no.

Mother-gentle-voice \= trouble.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“We should send sweets to Rajput’s house.”

“Why??”

“To show them we accepted.”

“I DIDN’T ACCEPT—”

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn’t!”

“You said okay.”

“I did NOT—”

“You implied.”

“AMMA THAT WAS NOT—”

“Yes beta.”

OH MY GOD.

I was losing.

I was actually losing against logic, emotions, and Indian mother interpretation.

I sat on the floor dramatically.

“I’m not mentally prepared.”

She patted my head.

“You never are.”

“Then why force me??”

“We’re not forcing you. You said okay.”

“STOP SAYING THAT.”

She smiled.

She was enjoying this torture.

I was suffocating.

Then my dad came in, happily announcing:

“We are going to Arun’s house tomorrow!”

“WHY???” I shrieked.

“To talk about engagement date.”

“ENGAGE—WHAT—NO—WAIT—STOP—I DID NOT—”

But no one listened.

Why would they? I was the chaotic one. The one who wasn’t serious. The one who joked everything away.

So the ONE TIME I accidentally acted normal, they assumed I matured.

Horrible misunderstanding.

Terrible.

Deadly.

And deep inside… even though my mind screamed NO…

my heart whispered something else.

Something confusing.

Something warm.

Something terrifying.

“…What if this won’t be so bad?”

I shut that thought immediately.

No. No feelings.

Feelings are dangerous.

Feelings ruin people.

Feelings make you listen to Arijit Singh at 3 AM thinking about a man who looks like silence.

No thanks.

I needed distraction.

I needed space.

I needed—

My phone buzzed.

It was him. Again.

Arun: “Did I trouble you?”

Oh.

Oh no.

OH NO.

Why did he sound so gentle??

Why did he care if he troubled me??

Why did that make my chest hurt in a stupid way??

I typed back quickly:

Me: “No no no!! Not troubled!! Just… chaotic.”

Arun: “I figured.”

I rolled my eyes.

How dare he.

How dare he know me this well this early??

He shouldn’t predict me so easily.

It was unfair.

It was dangerous.

It was—

ding

Arun: “If this is too fast… tell me.”

I froze.

He meant it.

He actually meant it.

His words were not demanding. Not pressuring. Not assuming.

Just… gentle concern.

I stared at the message for a long time.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I wanted to say “slow down.”

I wanted to say “I’m scared.”

I wanted to say “I don’t know how to do this.”

Instead…

Me: “No… I’m okay.”

The moment I sent it…

I regretted it again.

Because he replied:

Arun: “Then I’ll talk to my parents.”

OH.

MY.

GOD.

THE MAN TOOK MY “I’M OKAY” AS A GREEN SIGNAL TO BEGIN MARRIAGE PREP.

I died internally.

ARUN’S POV

She said okay.

Indirectly.

Awkwardly.

Nervously.

But she said it.

And that one simple word…

felt like someone had gently placed warmth inside my empty chest.

I didn’t smile.

I didn’t celebrate.

I didn’t assume.

But something inside me softened.

My parents were surprised — pleasantly so.

My mother teared up.

My father nodded with that proud silence he always carried.

But I…

I was calm outside, chaos inside.

Because I knew one thing clearly:

Sana didn’t realise what she agreed to.

She didn’t know how deep my world ran. She didn’t know what I had done. She didn’t know what shadows followed me. She didn’t know what attachments cost me.

She didn’t even know what my job really was.

To her, I was an office worker.

To the country, I was a soldier.

To the enemy, I was a threat.

To myself, I was… tired.

Exhausted.

Trying to be normal.

Trying to live like a human and not a weapon.

And then she happened.

A girl with messy hair and too much laughter and unfiltered honesty.

A girl who didn’t hide emotions because she couldn’t.

A girl who made me feel something after years of nothing.

I didn’t decide to marry her because our parents wanted it.

I didn’t decide because it was convenient.

I decided because for the first time in years…

I felt alive.

But I also felt fear.

Not fear of losing her.

Fear of her knowing me.

Fear of the truth.

Fear that once she learned who I really was…

she would run.

And I wouldn’t blame her.

I wouldn’t stop her.

I couldn’t.

But right now…

she was here.

She didn’t reject me.

She didn’t say no.

She didn’t look scared of me.

She was just… overwhelmed.

And overwhelmed I could handle.

Fear I couldn’t.

I typed cautiously:

“If this is too fast… tell me.”

Because I needed her to feel safe.

Needed her to know she wasn’t being pushed.

Needed her to know she had a choice.

Her reply came after a long pause.

A long, nerve-wracking, dangerous pause.

“No… I’m okay.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

That sentence…

was warmer than sunlight.

But also heavier.

Because “I’m okay” from a girl like her meant she was trying.

Trying despite her fear.

Trying despite her confusion.

Trying… for me.

I didn’t deserve that.

Yet I treasured it.

I typed:

“Then I’ll talk to my parents.”

And the preparations began.

I saw my mother pull out wedding checklists.

My father called the priest.

Relatives started messaging.

My home shifted into festival mode.

But in the middle of the noise…

my mind was on her.

Would she be overwhelmed?

Would she back away?

Would she regret that “okay”?

I didn’t want to scare her.

I didn’t want to rush her.

I didn’t want to be another burden in her chaotic world.

All I wanted…

was a little space in it.

Just a small one.

Just enough to sit quietly in a corner of her life…

and be someone she could trust.

Someone she could talk to.

Someone she could lean on.

Someone she could come home to.

I didn’t want grand romance.

I didn’t even know how to do romance.

All I wanted was…

peace.

And she, ironically chaotic, somehow brought peace into the room.

But peace is fragile.

And I wasn’t sure how long I could protect her from my world.

Or from me.

SANA’S POV

The next morning was chaos.

Actual chaos.

Decorations. Lists. Phone calls. Shopping. Relatives invading like zombies. My mother giving instructions like a general.

And me?

I sat on my bed staring at my phone like it was a bomb.

Should I text him?

Should I act normal?

Was he even normal?

Why did he sound like a peaceful forest fire??

My phone buzzed.

Arun: “Are you free today?”

My stomach flipped.

Then twisted.

Then performed gymnastics.

I typed back:

Me: “Why?”

Arun: “I need to talk to you.”

OH NO.

OH NO NO NO.

THIS SOUNDED SERIOUS.

I typed with shaking fingers:

Me: “About what??”

A long pause.

Then:

Arun: “Us.”

US.

U S.

WHAT WAS THIS MAN SAYING.

WHY WAS HE LIKE THIS.

WHY WAS HE TALKING LIKE WE WERE A REAL COUPLE.

WHY WAS MY HEART DOING STUPID THINGS.

Before I could respond, he texted again:

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad.”

Oh god.

He knew I was panicking.

How??

HOW DID HE READ ME SO EASILY??

“Amma,” I whispered quietly.

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m going out.”

“With who?”

I swallowed.

“…Arun.”

My mother froze mid-ladoo packing.

She looked at me like I just confessed to a crime.

Then her face split into the happiest smile I had ever seen.

“You… you’re meeting him… willingly?”

“I’m not doing it willingly, I’m doing it because he asked.”

“That means willingly.”

“NO IT—”

But she already pushed me toward the door.

I grabbed my bag.

My heart pounding.

My palms sweating.

My mind spinning.

What would he say?

Was he nervous too?

Did he regret it?

Was he pressured?

Did he—

And then I saw him.

Standing near the gate.

White shirt. Simple jeans. Hands in pockets.

Looking at me like I was something fragile he didn’t want to break.

My breath caught.

He gave a small nod.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

I wasn’t.

Not at all.

But I nodded anyway.

ARUN’S POV

She walked toward me with too many emotions on her face.

Confusion. Shyness. Panic. Curiosity. Fear.

She was glowing in the morning sunlight without even trying.

I wasn’t staring.

Okay, I was staring.

She stopped in front of me.

Her voice tiny.

“Why did you want to meet?”

I took a slow breath.

Because I needed her to hear this calmly.

“I want to make sure,” I said quietly, “that you aren’t… overwhelmed.”

She blinked.

A lot.

“Overwhelmed??” she repeated like I had accused her of murder.

I nodded.

“You didn’t have time to think,” I continued. “And I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

She stared at me.

Long.

Too long.

Then her voice softened.

“You thought… I’m scared?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I knew the truth.

She wasn’t scared of me.

She was scared of marriage.

Of stability.

Of deep emotions.

Of good things.

People like her weren’t afraid of danger.

They were afraid of stillness.

Afraid of soft moments.

Afraid of trusting someone who wouldn’t hurt them.

And that broke something inside me.

“Arun…” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

I nodded slowly.

“I know.”

“I just… didn’t say no.”

“I know.”

She sighed heavily. Like she carried a weight too big for her small shoulders.

“I’m not ready,” she admitted. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know how to be a wife. I don’t know how to be serious. I don’t know how to handle calm people. I don’t know how to talk to you without messing up. I don’t even know why you’re okay with me—”

“Sana.”

She froze.

I didn’t raise my voice.

I didn’t interrupt rudely.

I just said her name softly.

She blinked.

I spoke slowly, quietly, carefully:

“You don’t have to know anything right now. We’ll learn together.”

Her eyes widened.

I continued:

“You don’t need to be perfect.”

“What if I mess up?”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“What if you get annoyed?”

“I won’t.”

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“Then we try again.”

“What if—”

“Sana.”

She shut up again.

I met her eyes.

“I’m not marrying the perfect version of you,” I said softly. “I’m marrying you.”

Her breath hitched.

The world went silent.

The birds. The wind. My heartbeat. Everything paused.

She stared at me like she couldn’t believe someone could speak to her like that.

Slowly…

very slowly…

her lips trembled.

“So…” she whispered. “…it’s okay if I’m scared?”

“Yes.”

“…it’s okay if I’m not ready?”

“Yes.”

“…it’s okay if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed.

“And you’ll… you’ll handle the rest?”

I nodded.

Her voice barely audible:

“Then… I’m… okay.”

Not yes. Not acceptance.

Just “okay.”

But from her…

it was enough.

More than enough.

Inside, something loosened in my chest.

Something painful.

Something warm.

Something dangerous.

But I kept my face calm.

I only said:

“Then let’s begin the preparations.”

Her eyes widened in horror.

“WHAT PREPARATIONS—WAIT NO—STOP—”

I couldn’t help it.

I smiled.

Genuinely.

For the first time in years.

SANA’S POV

And that… was how my “not a yes” became the official starting point of our marriage preparations.

Just because I said—

“I’m… okay.”

What.

Is.

My.

Life.

But as we walked together quietly… side by side… awkward but strangely comfortable…

For the first time…

I didn’t feel scared.

Not of him. Not of marriage. Not of the future.

Because the man walking next to me…

walked as if he’d match my pace.

No rush.

No force.

No pressure.

Just… there.

Calm.

Steady.

Patient.

And some stupid part of my chaotic heart whispered:

Maybe… this won’t ruin you. Maybe… this will save you.

I ignored it.

But it stayed.

And that was the beginning of everything.

END OF EPISODE 3

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***