Tonight, the Roy mansion is bathed in lights, as if the night itself has taken a dip in gold. Tiny golden lights sparkle from tree branches to door frames, from window sills to even the clay pitcher near the well.
It's the wedding night of the only daughter of the house — Neela Roy. Yet, the house is eerily quiet, without the usual buzz of guests. The marriage is not for love — it's strictly a business arrangement between two powerful families. The bride and groom don't even know each other. No one outside the family knows about this secret wedding — if they did, it would surely be a headline in tomorrow's newspapers.
Amid all the chaos, the one person bearing the most responsibilities is Tiyasha, the maid of the house. She has worked here for two years, having left her studies at a young age to take care of her ailing mother. Tonight, she's busy running around with chores.
As for Neela — the name might sound sweet, but the girl is far from innocent. Having studied abroad, Neela knows how to act like the ideal daughter: polite, refined, cultured. But inside, her thoughts are different — for her, marriage is about financial security, status, and luxury. She doesn't believe in love.
Neela is marrying into one of the most prestigious industrialist families — to Arya Sen. Just the mention of his name makes the elite circles sit up in awe. He's a sharp businessman with a glorious family legacy. But he's also stern, ill-tempered, and emotionally distant. He, too, is getting married only to satisfy family expectations — he doesn't even know who the bride is.
Neela stands silently by her bedroom window, her mehndi drying on her palms, her eyes reflecting one burning question — Can I really go through with this marriage?
She had once loved someone abroad — a man with wealth, cars, and a lifestyle she adored. Arya Sen is rich too, but with him, Neela feels she'll never be free. She'll never get to live life on her own terms.
She smiles bitterly.
She doesn't want this marriage. She wants the city lights, cafes, luxury cars, foreign trips, a passport full of stamps — not love, but luxury.
And Arya Sen?
He's rigid, cold, and harsh.
To him, marriage is nothing but a social contract.
Neela feels suffocated by the entire arrangement. But no one in the house seems to notice.
The bridal saree lies on the bed — a red Benarasi with golden embroidery. The jewelry box lies open, filled with gold so heavy it feels like it weighs her down.
Neela touches the saree, a hint of irritation crossing her face.
"How am I supposed to even stand wearing this heavy thing?" she thinks, then turns to the window again.
She's slowly reaching a decision — she cannot go through with this wedding. She must run — tonight. Because this wedding will destroy her.
The thought hardens inside her.
---
The clock nears 10 p.m.
The wedding is at midnight. Her mother keeps walking into the room — fixing her hair, placing flowers in her bun.
Neela, seizing a moment of solitude, begins packing.
Some money.
Her phone.
A small handkerchief.
She's preparing to run.
She knows it's risky. But anything is better than marrying Arya Sen.
---
Outside, the sound of drums, conch shells, and ululation fills the air.
Someone walks into the room and says, "The car has arrived. The groom is here."
Something shatters inside Neela.
This is the moment. Or never.
She stands before the mirror — red saree, vermillion dot on her forehead, mehndi on her hands.
She doesn't recognize the girl in the mirror.
She sees hatred in her own eyes.
She locks the door behind her.
The window is half open. She peeks out — the back of the house is dimly lit and mostly empty. She could escape through there.
Grabbing her bag, wrapping a dupatta around herself, she climbs down through the window.
She hurts her ankle slightly but doesn't stop.
The wind rushes past her as behind her the wedding chants rise.
But she runs.
She runs toward the life she wants — a life where she isn't someone's puppet.
---
Back inside, Tiyasha knocks on Neela's door.
"Didi, can I come in?"
No response.
"Didi, the groom has arrived. Can I come in?"
She pushes the door gently — it creaks open.
But the room is empty.
Only a piece of paper lies on the floor.
Tiyasha picks it up, heart pounding, and rushes to Neela's mother.
"Didi-ma... something terrible has happened. Neela didi ran away... she left this letter."
"What are you saying?" Neela's mother's eyes widen in shock.
"Please see for yourself." Tiyasha hands her the note.
It reads:
> "Ma, I can't go through with this wedding.
I can't be someone's puppet for the rest of my life.
Forgive me, Ma. I'm leaving."
Neela's mother slumps down, holding her head.
"Listen... look what your daughter has done!" she cries, calling Neela's father.
Mr. Roy enters, shocked and speechless.
The joy that filled the house moments ago is gone.
---
Just then, Arya Sen's car pulls up at the gate.
Neela's parents are in panic. If this wedding doesn't happen, it will ruin their family reputation and destroy their business.
Tiyasha stands quietly, trembling.
The Roys make a sudden decision.
Neela's father, Bijoy Roy, calls Tiyasha over.
"You will take Neela's place.
No one from the Sen family has seen her — she was raised abroad.
There's no danger."
Tiyasha stands frozen, heart pounding.
Bijoy Roy, trembling with rage, adds: "Whether your mother lives or dies — that's up to you now. I'll pay for her operation. You just marry as Neela. Keep your mouth shut."
Tiyasha bites her lip, her world crumbling inside.
Why must she pay the price for someone else's mistake?
She wants to scream that she refuses.
But who would listen?
She thinks of her mother — lying on a hospital bed, fighting for life. Doctors said she could survive with treatment. But money is tight.
For her mother, she swallows her sorrow.
"I... I will do the wedding," she says softly.
---
To be continued…