His Unloved Bride | COMPLETED ✓

✿ TO BE LOVED ✿

ALAIA

20 November 2024

It's been eight years. The days passed, seasons changed and I aged yet nothing changed. I still think of you, my heart still craves for you. I've lived thousand deaths just to realise that you're gone. Your death, your grave, your memories, your smile and you. Everything is imprinted on my soul as if it was the day when you left me in this gray world.
I don't want to let you go but everytime I walk to your grave, reality slashes my heart into two. I still remember the flower you loved, those bright lilies in your hand as you tried to pluck one of them and tuck behind your ear, the scent of it engulfing you and then you smile as if you found your desire to live life once again. But now those lilies haunt me as it is me to leaves those flowers on your grave every morning.

I folded the crisp paper back and let my heart sink in agony. The heaviness of my bridal dress all of sudden became suffocating.

I get up from the bed and unpinned the dress followed by removing all the gold and diamond jewelleries from my body. For a split moment, I wanted to forget about everything but then the vermillion in my head and sacred chain around my neck made me aware that now I'm married.

Now I'm married to one of the richest businessman of the country. Agastya Singhania; the Billionaire, who's seven years older than me and the man who still writes letter to his girlfriend even after eight years of her death.
And this is my wedding night, the day I was supposed to cherish for whole of my life but instead I spent whole night alone in a giant mansion whose walls taunted me of the reality of my hollow marriage.

But I'm not complaining. Why would I? This marriage was nothing but a compromise that I stepped in on my own will. I was a lost case, a taint on my family's reputation, a girl who was nothing but a filth.

Changing my clothes into simple cotton saree, wore couple of glass bangles and tied my hair in a loose braids.

Wiping away the makeup from my face, I decided to step out of my room. Somehow I managed to find my way through the house and found a kitchen which was already fill with food aroma and Agastya's staff who were cooking it. I bit on my lips and sat on the dining table.

The breakfast was already served. I looked at the food, from South Indian to English breakfast, everything was on the platter but it didn't feel appetising. I took a toast and was about to eat when saw Agastya Singhania, my husband walking down the stairs.

He wore a crisp black shirt and Armani suit, his hair neatly trimmed and a vacant emotion masking his expressions. As soon as his gaze fell on me, I shifted my attention back to my plate. No, I didn't get butterflies nor did I feel any kind of newly wedded bride's emotion rather I was uncomfortable.

He gave me a small nod and sat across the table for his breakfast.

He took a sip of orange juice and one of his servent came forward to give his newspaper. Effortlessly skipping the first page, he indulged himself into it. My eyes fell on the first page of the newspaper and there I saw a picture of us with a headline — “Mr. & Mrs. Singhania.”
In the photograph, we both are in our wedding dress and smiling at the cameras flashing at us. Yesterday was indeed a memorable day after all it was my marriage, wasn't it?

“Your family will come to see you. If you need anything, don't be hesitant to ask me.” He said, passing me the butter.

I pressed my lips into thin line. “Why?” I asked. “Why would they want to meet me?” After almost disowning me.

“If you don't want then it can be arranged too.” He gave me a diplomatic reply.

Calm down, Alaia.

Let's not go the past, shall we?

“I'll do whatever you say, I'm your wife.” So, I gave him a diplomatic response from my side too.

“No. You're not. Please refrain yourself from using such words. We don't share any relationship, Ms. Alaia. Our marriage is purely for public.” He spat, without sparing a glance at me.

“Offcourse, I'm sorry. I didn't mean like that....” I said, my gut twisting.

I'm not his wife, merely his liability.

I closed my eyes and then all of sudden, the flashback hit me like a hurricane.

What was my fault? What was the fault of a twenty five years old girl when she decided to sleep with her boyfriend? And what was her fault when her boyfriend drugged her and made his four friends rape her whole night? What was her fault when someone uploaded her sex tape? What was her fault when her boyfriend physically assaulted her? What was her fault when her family threw her out on the streets? What was her fault when her family disowned her and her father slapped her till she went unconscious?

What was my fault? To love a wrong boy or to believe that the boy who promised me moon and stars will someday ruin my life?

And then there's this man who is still in very much love with his dead girlfriend. Oh, to be loved by someone like Agastya.