ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT

3. a Royal wedding

The wedding day arrived with a swiftness that left me breathless. I, Mayura, stood in front of the mirror, my reflection staring back at me in a red lehenga that seemed to blaze with a fire of its own. The intricate embroidery and delicate sequins sparkled like diamonds, but my eyes remained dull, my heart heavy.

The lehenga was a masterpiece, designed by the finest couturiers in the land. The silk fabric felt like butter against my skin, and the delicate dupatta draped gracefully over my head and shoulders. But I couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a gilded cage.

As I walked out of my room, the royal family greeted me with warm smiles. Abhimaan's mother, the Queen, took my hands in hers, her eyes shining with tears. "You look stunning, Mayura. Welcome to our family."

I forced a smile, my lips trembling. The ceremony was a blur of rituals and chants, the priests' voices droning in my ears like a dirge. Abhimaan stood beside me, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

But I refused to meet his gaze, my eyes cast downward, my lashes veiling my emotions. I didn't look at him once, couldn't bear to face the man who was claiming me as his own.

As we exchanged vows, I felt like I was surrendering my soul. The ring on my finger seemed to tighten, a constant reminder of the chains that bound me to this life.

I stood at the threshold of my childhood home, my heart heavy with the weight of goodbye. The vidaai ceremony, a traditional farewell to the bride, was a mere formality, a pretence of emotions that no one truly felt.

My parents, relatives, and family members surrounded me, their faces etched with fake sorrow. They didn't care if I lived or died; I was just a pawn in their game of power and wealth. I felt like a commodity, a piece of property being transferred from one owner to another.

As they bid me farewell, their words were hollow, their hugs cold and distant. I didn't shed a single tear, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. I hugged them back, my arms stiff, my heart numb.

"Mayura, our dear daughter, go and make us proud," my mother said, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I forced a smile, my lips trembling with rage. Proud? You never cared about my happiness, my dreams, my life. You only cared about your own interests, your own power.

I turned to Abhimaan, my husband, my captor. He had no emotion ,  but his eyes gleaming with triumph, as if he had won a prize. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized I was now his property, his to command and control.

The car door closed behind me, and I was gone, leaving behind the only life I had ever known. I didn't look back, refusing to acknowledge the people who had never truly loved me. I was Mayura, the royal bride, a prisoner in a gilded cage, but I would not be defeated.

Abhimaan's family was kind, welcoming me with open arms. But I knew it was all a facade, a mask to hide the truth. I was a pawn in their game of power and wealth, a mere trophy to be displayed and admired.

As the night wore on, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, the red lehenga now a symbol of my shackles, my prison. I longed to break free, to flee from this life and find my own path. But for now, I was trapped, a royal bride in a loveless marriage.

As we drove to the palace, the silence between Abhimaan and me was palpable. No one spoke, the only sound being the soft hum of the car engine and the gentle rustling of the dupatta against my skin. I gazed out the window, watching the city give way to rolling hills and lush green forests.

Finally, we arrived at the palace, its grandeur and beauty taking my breath away. The sheer scale of the structure, the intricate carvings, and the sparkling fountains left me awestruck.

As we stepped out of the car, Abhimaan's family members greeted us with warm smiles. His mother, the Queen, embraced me tightly, her eyes shining with tears. "Welcome home, Mayura. You are now a part of our family."

His father, the King, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "We are glad to have you as our daughter-in-law. May you bring joy and happiness to our family."

Abhimaan's siblings, Prince Aaryan and Princess Riya, welcomed me with open arms. Aaryan, the younger prince, was charming and friendly, while Riya, the princess, was kind and gentle.

As we entered the palace, the welcoming ceremony began. The priests chanted and performed rituals, while the family members showered me with gifts and blessings. I felt like a queen, a true member of the royal family.

After the ceremony, we adjourned to the grand hall for a feast. The food was exquisite, the music lively, and the company warm and friendly. Abhimaan's family members regaled me with stories of their ancestors, their history, and their traditions. I listened intently, fascinated by their rich heritage.

As the night wore on, we moved to the gardens, where a beautiful fountain show awaited us. The water danced and swirled, the lights and music creating a magical atmosphere. Aaryan and Riya pulled me into a game of tag, our laughter echoing through the gardens.

For a moment, I forgot about the arranged marriage . I was just a young woman, enjoying the company of her new family, feeling like I belonged.

But as the night drew to a close, reality set in. I was Mayura, the royal bride, a pawn in their game of power and wealth. I glanced at Abhimaan, who was watching me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

I knew I had to be careful, to navigate this treacherous terrain with caution. But for now, I would play along, pretend to be the happy bride, and bide my time until I could find a way to break free from this gilded cage.