Ambivalence

Dreamlike

Aaradhya's POV

With only two days left until the wedding, my mehendi ceremony was finally completed after three hours of sitting through it. My relatives surrounded me, some offering taunts coated in honey with hateful looks, while other's just gave me there blessing with some complements.

 As I removed my ring to apply mehendi, the henna artist commented, "Wow di, you got a tattoo for the prince." I mustered a faint smile, knowing that no one could understand the real reason behind the ink on my finger.

Inside me, a battle raged. A part of me wanted to ruin the mehendi, to remove his name from my hand, while another part, one that still held onto feelings I wished I could forget, wanted the mehendi to be beautiful and dark.

Despite being a wedding ritual, the atmosphere was somber. All this pain and chaos were being caused by one person, who, in his quest to achieve his goals, was hurting me. I couldn't fathom how his grandparents remained unfazed by his actions.

In the evening, I got ready in a coffee-gold sequin lehenga for the function. I was waiting for Sharvansh, as we had to enter together. As I scrolled through my Instagram, I looked at his photos. His profile picture was changed with his name, and he had posted a new picture of himself sitting on the throne, dressed in a black sherwani with a shawl. His eyes seemed darker than usual.

"I didn't know my wife was so into me," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

I almost dropped my phone; why couldn't he make some noise to let me know he was there? I turned to face him, and he was dressed in a golden sherwani with a shawl. The moment I looked at his face, it reminded me of the day he had forcefully tattooed me.

I took two steps to create a safe distance between us. "Let's go," he said, without addressing any of my thoughts or emotions, and offered his hand. I noticed the henna on his hands, I didn't thought he would actually apply mehendi on his hand.

I internally scoffed at him. I must have done some terrible deeds in my past life to have ended up with him as my husband.

Startled by his warm touch when he held my hand, my eyes remained locked on our intertwined fingers. All the anger and resentment I held seemed to melt away with his one touch, and I was torn between wanting to stay away from him and craving his presence.

As we walked down the carpet, a beautiful song began to play. I was sure it was Anu's idea; no one else would have known about this song's significance. This song had always held a special place in my heart, evoking emotions that had once been directed toward him.

The atmosphere felt dreamlike, with the song, the decorations, and the man walking beside me, holding my hand. I knew that nobody was truly happy about this wedding, but my parents had put in their best efforts. Even Sharvansh's grandparents had tried to make it special.

As I watched our siblings enjoying themselves, a pang of envy tugged at my heart. Reyansh's adoring gaze fixed on Anvi spoke volumes, a silent declaration of his love for her. It was evident that they shared a connection, a bond that transcended words.

But when I glanced towards my own would-be husband, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. His attention seemed scattered, his focus wandering aimlessly. It was as though I was invisible to him, an afterthought in his grand scheme of things.

I berated myself for expecting anything more. After all, he was not one to be swayed by emotions or sentimentality. His sole focus was on victory, no matter the cost. In his eyes, love was just a weakness to be exploited, a means to an end.

It was time for our performance. Dancing to this song with my husband was on my list:

"O sun saathiya, mahiya barsa de Ishqan ki siyahiyan