Part two - The Wedding.

Sometimes that has to do with perfect

Written by Kingson Das

(Based on a concept by a @Borrdcat)

Part Two — The Wedding

The next morning arrived too fast.

Aarohi stood in the doorway of her room, watching the house move without her. Wedding planners walked in and out. Relatives laughed too loudly. Someone played music she didn’t recognize. It felt strange — like she had returned to a place that no longer belonged to her.

She found her mother in the kitchen.

“Ma,” Aarohi said carefully, “when were you going to tell me?”

Sunita Sharma didn’t stop what she was doing. “We just did.”

Aarohi swallowed. “You always said relationships were distractions. Marriage was something to wait for. Then why—”

“This is different,” her mother said, finally turning around.

“This is your sister.”

Aarohi nodded slowly. She had learned that sentence well.

This is different.

It always was — when it wasn’t about her.

By evening, the groom’s family arrived.

Aarohi stayed upstairs until she was called down. She adjusted her dupatta, fixed the calm expression on her face, and stepped into the living room wearing perfection like armor.

And then she saw him.

Kabir Mehta.

The room tilted.

He stood near her sister, Ananya, smiling easily — the same smile that once belonged to Aarohi’s late-night conversations and whispered promises. His hand brushed Ananya’s, gentle and familiar.

Her breath caught.

Ananya noticed her first. “Didi!” she said brightly. “You’re finally here.”

Kabir turned.

For a moment, his face froze.

Just a second. Just long enough for Aarohi to know she wasn’t imagining things.

Then he smiled — polite, controlled, distant.

“Aarohi,” he said, like her name meant nothing at all.

The rest of the evening passed in fragments. Voices echoed without meaning. Plates clinked. Someone praised her achievements. Someone else spoke about the wedding dates.

Aarohi smiled through all of it.

Later that night, when the house finally quieted, she found him alone on the balcony.

Kabir didn’t turn when she approached. “I knew you’d come,” he said.

“Why?” Aarohi asked. Her voice didn’t shake. That surprised her.

He sighed, like she was an inconvenience. “I was curious how long it would take you.”

She stared at him. “How could you do this?”

Kabir finally looked at her — not guilty, not ashamed. Just honest in the worst way.

“I was bored,” he said.

“Everyone talked about you — the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girl. I wanted to see what would happen if I broke that mask.”

Aarohi felt something inside her turn cold.

“And Ananya?” she asked.

“I love her,” he said simply. “It’s real with her.”

The words landed like poison.

Aarohi stepped back. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She walked away.

She told her parents everything.

Rajesh Sharma listened in silence. Sunita Sharma held her hands tightly. When she finished, the room felt unbearably small.

Finally, her father spoke.

“She is your sister,” he said.

“If she wants something, you give it to her.”

Her mother nodded. “They’re in love. It’s okay.”

Aarohi stared at them, waiting for more.

Nothing came.

That night, she understood something clearly for the first time.

Perfection had never protected her.

It had only made her invisible.

(To be continued in Part Three — The Mask Cracks)

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