Draft

...NOOR POV :...

"Kya hua, batao mujhe," I said softly, holding her. (What happened, tell me)

"Tum pehli insaan ho jisne mujhse ye poocha hai," she whispered. "Warna sabne toh bas faisla suna diya." (You are the first person who asked me this... Everyone else just announced the decision)

"Matlab tum ye shaadi nahi karna chahti?"I asked, my chest tightening.

(So you don't want to do this marriage?)

"Bilkul nahi! Tumhe pata hai wo aadmi kaisa hai?" she asked, voice trembling.

(Absolutely not! Do you know what kind of man he is?)

I shook my head no.

"Jab hum pehli baar mile the, tabhi usne kaha tha ki main kabhi pyaar ki umeed na rakhun. Main sirf samajh ke liye uski patni rahungi. Kamre ke andar... hum anjaan log rahenge." (When we met for the first time, he told me never to expect love. I will only be his wife for society. Inside the room... we will be strangers)

My jaw literally dropped. "WTF."

She gave a sad little smile. "Sach hai, Noor. Usne seedha muh pe bola tha."

(It's true Noor. . He said it straight to my face)

I sat down beside her, stunned. "Toh tumne kisi se kuch kaha kyun nahi?"

(Then why didn't you tell anyone?)

"Kya kehti? Kisi ne poocha hi nahi. Aaj pehli baar tumne mujhse poocha hai," she said, voice cracking. (What would I say? No one.

Even asked. Today is the first time you asked me)

I felt my heart sink. Nobody - absolutely nobody - deserves to be trapped in a loveless marriage.

I hugged her again, tighter this time. "Tum bohot strong ho," I said softly. (You are very strong) "Agar main tumhari jagah hoti, toh main toh bhaag jaati." (If I were in your place, I would have run away)

Laxmi let out a small, watery laugh. "Mujhe bhi bhaag jaana chahiye," she whispered. "Par... gharwale..." She trailed off. (I should also run away...But... family...)

Rishi pov

I wore my sherwani, fixed the collar, and looked at myself in the mirror one last time. Ma came over, put a tika on my forehead, and did the aarti, her eyes shining with pride and worry - that strange mix only mothers can pull off.

Finally, after all the rituals, the baraat was ready. The dhols started, people began dancing like they were possessed, and money flew into the air. Some of the cousins even started firing gunshots in the sky - typical village wedding chaos.

I got on the horse. Kids cheered, old ladies blessed me, and someone shouted, "Arey dulhe raja, muskurao toh zara!" So I smiled - the forced, tired kind of smile that doesn't quite reach youreyes.

(Hey groom, smile a little!)

We reached the bride's house after what felt like an endless parade. A big tent was set up right outside the house - bright lights, plastic chairs, and half-wilted marigolds hanging from bamboo poles. The arrangements were... let's just say, modest. Shabby, even. But there was an honesty in it. They'd clearly tried their best.

We offered to help, but they were pretty adamant about doing everything themselves. Something about pride.

I went and sat down on the mandap. People were scattered all around - some gossiping, some watching the pandit prepare the havan kund. I saw Raghav bhaiya sitting on a sofa with Priya bhabhi and little Chaavi. Ma and Papa were there too, looking around, trying to smile politely at guests. Everyone seemed restless.

Then the pandit said, "Vadhu ko bulaiye." (Please call the bride.)

A few people nodded, someone went inside, and I adjusted my dupatta, trying not to look awkward under all the attention.

But after what felt like half an hour, the pandit cleared his throat again. "Mahurat ka samay nikalta ja raha hai... vadhu ko bulaiye."

(The auspicious time is passing... please call the bride.)

This time, everyone's faces changed. The light laughter and background chatter faded into an uncomfortable silence. Ma exchanged a look with Papa. Even Raghav bhaiya stopped talking.

I could feel the tension crawling up my neck. Something wasn't right.

Instead of sitting there like a dumb statue, I got up and walked inside the house.

"Bhala aise kaun karta hai?" a woman muttered.

(Who does something like this?)

"Kuch khot hoga tabhi bhag gayi!" another added, clicking her tongue in judgment.

(There must be something wrong, that's why she ran away!)

"Bhabhi ji, uska kisi ke saath chakkar toh nahi tha?" someone else whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

(Did she have an affair with someone?)

I stood there frozen - watching people who were supposed to be kind, who were supposed to care, tear apart a girl's dignity without a moment's hesitation. Words - sharp, bitter, and cruel - filled the small room. Kusha tai sat on the bed, tears streaking down her face, exactly where Laxmi was supposed to sit as a bride.

NOOR POV

"Bas kariye aap sab," I said, unable to take it anymore."Bhag gayi toh bhag gayi."

(That's enough, all of you.... If she ran away, then she ran away.)

All eyes turned to me - disapproving, shocked, as if I had committed some blasphemy.

"Koi reason hoga na... wajah hogi bhagne ke peeche," I continued, trying to sound calm.

(There must be a reason... there has to be a reason behind her running away.)

"Aise kisi ke character pe sawal uthana kaisi samajhdari hai?"

(How is it sensible to question someone's character like this?)

"Bitiya, ladki ho. Thodi kam zubaan chalao," one of the older women snapped.

(Girl, you are a woman. Control your tongue a little.)

"Sasural jaogi toh jutte padenge!" Another said.

I rolled my eyes. Typical.

Before I could reply, Ma grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside.

"Zyada Jhansi ki Rani mat bano. Side mein khadi raho," ma hissed.

(Don't try to be Jhansi ki Rani too much. Stand aside.)

"par..."

(but...)

Before I could finish, the door slammed open. The noise cut through every conversation.

A man walked in - tall, broad shoulders, eyes sharp as steel. His face wasn't angry, but there was something terrifyingly calm about him. This was him - the old groom Laxmi was supposed to marry.

Everyone fell silent. Kusha tai and Tauji stood immediately, joining their trembling hands in front of him.

"Ladki kahan hai?" His voice was low, heavy. (Where is the girl?)

"BHAG GAYI!" someone shouted from behind. (She ran away!)

Tauji's lips trembled. "Sahab... wo bina bataye... chali gayi..." (Sir... she left without telling anyone...)

"Maaf kar dijiye," Kusha tai sobbed. Even Shankar, bent forward to beg for forgiveness.

(Please forgive us.)

For a moment, I thought the man would lash out - slap someone, shout, maybe throw something. But he didn't. Instead, he inhaled slowly and looked around. His eyes scanned every face in the room... until they landed on me.

I smiled awkwardly - the polite kind you give strangers you never plan to meet again. But his eyes didn't move. They were... assessing. Almost dangerous. The kind of stare that makes your stomach twist and your palms sweat.

Then he said, "Shaadi na sahi, swayamvar sahi."

(If not a wedding, then a swayamvar.)

"Huh?" I blurted out.

Before I could process, he stepped forward, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me toward the door.

Everything happened too fast. One moment, people were gasping, shouting; the next, I was standing on the mandap - as the bride.

He sat down, pulling me beside him.

"AYEE! Pagal ho?" I shouted, getting up.

(Hey! Are you crazy?)

"Baitho chup chaap," he said, his voice deep, commanding. His hand gripped mine tighter and then pulled me down.

(Sit down quietly.)

"Abe AYE!" I again got up and tried to jerk away his hand, but before I could, he lifted his other hand dramatically.

(Hey!)

And suddenly - click.

The sound of guns echoed around us. When I looked up, I saw them - a dozen men, weapons raised, pointed at everyone's heads.

"Baith rahi ho, warna ek ek karke sabke dimaag udwa dun," he said coldly.

(You will sit, otherwise I'll blow everyone's brains out one by one.)

"Yeh kya tareeka hai?" I started, my voice trembling but words still coming out.

"Main maanti hoon aapki feelings hurt hui hain, par aap communicate kariye na! Ese gunpoint pe shaadi thode karte hain?" (I understand your feelings are hurt, but at least communicate! You don't get married at gunpoint like this.)

It sounded brave - but my heart was thundering. This wasn't bravery. This was survival panic.

"Mere teen gin ne se pehle baith jana," he said, eyes forward. (Sit down before I count to three.)

"Bitiya, baith ja!" Kusha tai cried. (Child, sit down!)

"Nahi, Noor!" Mumma screamed from somewhere behind. (No, Noor !)

"Ek..." (One...)

"Bitiya baitho!" someone yelled. (Child, sit!)

"Do..." (Two...)

Everyone was shouting now. My body froze. My brain screamed run but my legs wouldn't move.

"Teen..." (Three...)

And then - boom.

A gunshot split the air.

Screams, Crying, Chaos.

I didn't dare look. My body refused. My hands were shakinguncontrollably.

"Ek..." he said again, his tone calm - terrifyingly calm. (One...)

My knees gave way, and I fell beside him. Someone threw a dupatta over my head. The pandit's trembling voice began reciting mantras.

"Noor... Noorrr...!" I heard faint screams - Mumma's voice.

"Var-vadhu phere ke liye khade ho jaayein," the pandit said. (Bride and groom, please stand up for the pheras.)

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't even think. Aq

He stood up. Looked at me. Then, without a word, picked me up - in his arms - and started walking around the fire.

Then, without a word, picked me up - in his arms - and started walking around the fire

...Rishi pov : ...

The whole shaadi thing got over quicker than I expected. Pandit kept chanting, people kept talking, and I just wanted it done. When he finally said "vivah sampann hua", (the marriage has been completed) I stood up, dusted off my kurta, and bent to take blessings from Ma, Baba, Bhaiya, and Bhabhi. They smiled, satisfied, like everything went just as planned.

Then I turned around - and found my newly wedded wife still sitting there on the mandap like a lost child.

"Idhar aao," I ordered. (Come here.)

She flinched, hesitated for a moment, and then looked up - eyes red, face pale, and tears still fresh on her cheeks. I pointed my finger toward the ground. "Yahan... Idhar aao."

(Here. Come here.)

She got up slowly, her lehenga rustling as she moved, and came forward.

"Pair chuo sabke," I ordered. (Touch everyone's feet.)

And she obeyed - bent down, touched Ma's feet, then Baba's, then Bhaiya-Bhabhi's. Nobody said much. Ma just nodded and adjusted her dupatta while Bhabhi smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

After that, we walked toward the car - maybe at gunpoint, but all the rasams were completed properly. Traditions mattered, after all.

When we finally sat inside the car, silence filled the air. She kept her gaze fixed outside the window, clutching her dupatta.

By the time we reached the haveli, it was late. The air was cold. Ma and Bhabhi were already waiting at the doorstep, all smiles, ready with the thali for grihapravesh. (ritual of entering the house)

I stepped out first. The driver opened her side of the door, but she didn't move. I waited for a few seconds before losing patience.

"Utroo," I said sharply.

(Get down.)

She finally got out, still avoiding my eyes. Her face was streaked with black lines of smudged kohl and dried tears. The sight should've made me feel something... but it didn't.

She stood silently as Ma performed the arti, circling the plate in front of us, whispering mantras. Then came the kalash - she hesitated for a moment before lightly kicking it. Rice spilled acrossthe threshold, soft and scattered.

Next came the alta footprints - one red foot, then the other, pressing onto the white cloth as she stepped inside. Her steps were small, almost trembling, leaving behind delicate red marks.

Then the little post-wedding game - the ring hidden in a bowl of milk and rose petals. Ma laughed, saying it was for "Dekhte hain puri zindagi kiski chalegi" I dipped my hand in, eyes on her, and pulled the ring out first.

(Let's see who will have control for the rest of life.)

Of course, I did.

She stayed silent through everything. Not a single word, not a single smile. Just... quiet.

I leaned back on the sofa after the rasam ended, watching her sit there with lowered eyes.

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