Maithili’s POV
When Raghav looked at me with irritation and stuffed a Rasgulla into my mouth, I thought, “Dear God, I’ve had enough of this man already!” I was stuck in a position where I couldn't swallow it and couldn't spit it out; only the Lord knows my plight.
"Maithu, you feed him now," my father, Keshav Rao, urged. I nodded and broke off a tiny piece of Jalebi to feed him. I was terrified that if I fed a large sweet to this fitness-obsessed man, he might give me a "slap of death" later this evening.
So, I kept it very small.Finally, lunch ended, and we returned to the wedding hall. To escape my mother-in-law's constant fussing, we quickly finished a photoshoot in our wedding attire and headed to our rooms to change.
The sarees they had chosen for me were incredibly heavy and surely cost a fortune. Don't even ask about the jewelry—it was so heavy I felt like my neck might snap off at any moment. The beautician touched up my makeup and draped me in a new saree.
Then came the Kai Oppisu ceremony (the formal handing over of the bride). I was now wearing a maroon saree with a heavy gold border. It suited me much better than the morning’s green one. Perhaps to match me, Raghav was wearing a maroon suit; together, we looked quite decent.
"Maithili, you will realize later that I never took a wrong decision regarding your life. I believe I have sent you to a good family," my father said, trying to pat my head. I didn't pay him much attention. After all, he had arranged this without asking for my choice and had pushed me into this cycle of debt.
"Maithili, adjust well in your husband's house, child," my mother advised, her eyes welling up. "Your stubbornness worked with us, but it won't work there. Treat your in-laws like your own parents.
Understand your husband's needs and your duties toward him. Walk in his shadow for the rest of your life. And your sister-in-law, Ranjani, seems like a sweet girl; stay on good terms with her too."
I felt like crying, but I swallowed my tears, determined to stay strong.
"Okay, Mom," I whispered. Suddenly, Mansi and Manvi hugged me and burst into loud sobs.
"Mansi, Manvi, don't cry," I told them. "I won't be here anymore, so you must take care of Mom and Dad. Don't trouble them." They nodded tearfully and kissed my cheeks.
"Take care, Sis. Visit us often; we’ll miss you so much," Mansi said.
"Don't forget me, Sis. Message me every day," Manvi added.
"Manvi, Mansi—whenever you want to see your sister, come over without a second thought. You two are like my own children," my mother-in-law said warmly, which genuinely made me happy. From there, we boarded the car and headed toward the Vasishta Mansion.
A woman’s life is so difficult, isn't it? For twenty-five years, we grow up in one house, laughing and crying with our parents, thinking they are our whole world. Then, in a single day, we are married off and sent to a house of strangers with a mountain of responsibilities. New people, a new house, new mindsets. I sat by the window, staring out as the car moved, wondering what my future held.
Raghav’s POV
How stubborn is this girl? I’ve seen many brides wailing and clinging to their parents on the wedding day, but she didn't shed a single tear. She seems quite tough; I’ll have to be careful living with her.
My plan is simple: keep her under my control for a year, then give her a divorce and send her back.
That will be the end of the "marriage" chapter in my life. This relationship only has a one-year lifespan; I can't imagine staying with her longer than that.
My mind drifted back to the morning's Korean meeting.
They agreed to meet again, but today’s interruption felt so unprofessional. Give it a couple of days, and I’ll be back to my busy office routine.
I didn't even realize we had reached the house until Maithili got out of the car. I quickly stepped out after her.
Maithili’s POV
Good heavens, a three-story mansion! I had never seen such a massive house in my life. Do only four people live here? Why build such a huge place? Rich people really love wasting money. But I couldn't say anything; they’d probably just laugh at my "middle-class mentality."
"Maithili, Raghav, come. We must perform the Aarati," my mother-in-law called. We stood at the entrance. Looking at the hallway, I felt a pang of insecurity—I didn't feel like I belonged in such a lavish place. How did God bring me from my world to this one so suddenly?
Auntie performed the Aarati, put tilaks on our foreheads, and placed a Sere (a measure of rice) near my feet.
"Maithili, pray for the well-being of this home and kick the rice with your right foot as you enter," she instructed. I closed my eyes in prayer.
"God, even though I didn't ask for this, you have made me the daughter-in-law of this house. Grant this family prosperity. Give me the strength to protect the dignity of this home and handle these immense responsibilities. That’s all I ask."
I kicked the rice with my right foot, and it scattered far into the house. Raghav and I entered together. We were led to the prayer room, which was as big as the room I used to share with my sisters!
"Maithili, light the ghee lamp," Auntie said. My hands trembled slightly, and a drop of ghee spilled onto the floor.
"Disgusting. She doesn't even know how to do a simple task neatly," Raghav muttered. I felt a flash of anger—I wanted to snap back at him, but I remembered he was my husband and stayed quiet.
"It’s just a drop of ghee, Raghav. Don't scold your wife on her first day. Do you want her to be terrified of you? Keep quiet," Auntie defended me. Her support gave me a little courage.
"Go ahead, dear, do the puja," my father-in-law said kindly. I lit the lamp and prayed.
"Now, both of you must distribute gifts to all the guests," Auntie said. We stood on a decorated stage in the hall. They were giving away packs of clothes, silver plates, and small gold coins to every guest. Their wealth was staggering. By the time we finished distributing gifts, it was already 7:00 PM.
To be continued..
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