​I had just opened Google Meet on my laptop, preparing to join a session. This client meeting was incredibly important to me; a prestigious Korean company was looking to invest in my IT firm. If this meeting succeeded, I could take my company to an international level. The meeting began, and although I was alone in the room, the distant roar of a wedding celebration was deeply distracting.
​Determined to finish the task at hand, I adjusted my formals, fixed my hair, and greeted my Korean clients with a smile. Barely fifteen minutes had passed when the sound of the door swinging open irritated me.
​"Raghav, what are you doing here? Don't you remember whose wedding this is? There’s only half an hour left for your ceremony, and there are many rituals you need to perform at the altar! Everyone is waiting for you, and here you are sitting with a laptop. Is this right?" It was my mother, Kausalya, dressed in a Kanchivaram silk saree and heavy jewelry, scolding me.
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"Mom, please be quiet. This client meeting is very important to me. Don't disturb me," I said, immediately muting my audio and turning off the video.
​"If you're always busy with meetings and business deals, who is supposed to get married? Your father?" My dad’s entry into our arguments was nothing new.
​"Kausu, why do you always drag me into this?" my dad, Dhananjay, chimed in. "I told your son a week ago to postpone this meeting, but would your 'precious' son listen to me? He should get an award for his stubbornness. Without valuing a word I said, this gentleman has scheduled a meeting with Korean clients today."
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"Stop this meeting right now, put on your sherwani, and come out. Otherwise, I’ll have to show you what I'm capable of!" Mom warned, pointing a finger at me. I had no choice but to end the meeting, but I decided to have one last word.
​"Mom, why should I put so much effort into a marriage I don't even want? If you want to bring home a girl of your choice and have a wedding your way, shouldn't you also value my business and meetings?" I questioned.
​"Stop the meeting and come now, Raghav, or else..." Mom threatened again. Resigned, I turned my camera and audio back on, explained the situation to my clients, and ended the call.
​"Are you happy now, Mom? If this deal slips through my fingers, I’ll hold this 'wedding drama' responsible," I muttered. Mom just smiled, pinched my cheek, and walked out.
​Looking in the mirror, I saw myself in black formals—a look I now had to discard. Everything was happening according to my mother’s wishes. On the bed lay a prepared sherwani, a gold chain, a bracelet, a golden watch, and a turban.
​Frustrated, I took a quick cold shower, changed into the wedding attire, and put on the jewelry. As I sat there with my phone, my friend Ninad walked in.
​"Hey bro, you look like a hero! The bride is going to fall for you instantly. You look so cute, man," he teased. I felt like grabbing him by the neck.
​"Exactly, Ninad! My brother looks amazing," my younger sister, Ranjani, added with a grin. "If he had entered modeling or movies, he’d be famous by now. Not that he’s lacking fans—so many girls are probably heartbroken today!"
​"If you two would just shut up, I’d be grateful. I’m already dying of irritation; don't add fuel to the fire," I snapped. They just laughed..
​"Raghav, it's time for the Muhurta. Come," Dad called out..
​"Bro, the bride is super cute," Ranjani whispered as I walked. "She looks hot in her green saree. She might look a bit short next to your six-foot frame, but she’s fair as milk. She’s not 'zero-figure'—she’s chubby and cute with round cheeks. Her cat-eyes are amazing, and her natural curly hair is so long and thick. Plus, she has dimples when she smiles! You’re lucky, bro." I gave her a fiery look and walked on..
I was struggling to hold back my anger as I listened to my sister praise her so much. But there’s nothing I can do; I have to get married, there's no other way out.
​Mom and Dad have already showered her with endless compliments. But I don't believe any of it. All women have the same nature... they are all deceivers.
Maithili’s POV
​"Maithili, it’s your wedding today. Keep smiling. Your father arranged this for your own good," my mother said as she stood beside me while I sat decked out as a bride. Her words stung..
​"Mom, stop. Dad cares less about my happiness and more about my two younger sisters. He thinks marrying me off to someone wealthy will help them later. He’s marrying me to a man who seems to have no feelings. Even after hearing everything about him, I don't know how you have the heart to give me away. You’ve made me a sacrificial lamb," I said, my voice trembling..
​"Everything you’ve heard is just rumors, daughter. Once you enter his home, you'll understand. Now, smile and get ready," she replied. I gave a bitter smile and nodded..
​"Sister, you look so beautiful! I need to ward off the evil eye," my sister Manvi said..
​"And the groom! He looks like a movie hero," my youngest sister, Mansi, chirped. "He’s about six feet tall, has brown hair—probably colored—and a perfectly trimmed beard. Compared to you, he’s a bit darker, a wheatish Indian skin tone.
But his physique? Amazing! He must hit the gym for hours; he has an eight-pack! He looks so regal in his sherwani, like he belongs to an old royal family."
​I sighed..
"What does it matter how he looks? He’s a psycho, Mansi. A total mental case with a bolt missing in his head. Everyone says he’s arrogant and has a massive ego. And they say he’s 'allergic' to girls. You wouldn't understand the reasons even if I told you."
​"Maithili, it's time for the Muhurta. Come, dear," someone called. I stood up and walked toward the Mandap, dreading the life ahead...
To be continued..
​This is my first time writing a story in English. Please let me know if there are any mistakes, and I will correct them. If anything seems wrong, I hope you'll be patient and keep reading—after all, mistakes are natural when starting something new.
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