As the ring slipped gently into Aakrati's finger, a wave of applause rose around her, warm and celebratory, filling every corner of the house. For a moment, everything felt almost unreal—like she was watching someone else's life unfold in front of her.
She slowly lifted her gaze.
Her mother stood there, eyes shining with pride and emotion. Her father looked relieved, content, as if a long-awaited responsibility had finally been fulfilled. Krish's parents exchanged pleased glances, clearly happy with the match.
Shrisha, standing just behind, clapped the loudest. "Finally!" she whispered dramatically, grinning from ear to ear.
Everyone was smiling.
Everyone was happy.
Everyone… except one person.
Aakrati's eyes shifted, almost involuntarily, toward the edge of the room.
Arsh.
He stood there, slightly apart from the crowd. His posture was still, but his expression was anything but calm. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath falter. For a second, it looked like he might step forward, like he might break the carefully maintained peace of the moment.
Like he might say something.
Do something.
The air between them tightened.
Aakrati quickly looked away.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the ring. She could feel everyone watching, waiting. Smiling.
She couldn't afford hesitation.
With controlled movements, she took Krish's hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.
The room erupted again.
"Congratulations!"
"Such a beautiful couple!"
"Perfect match!"
The words echoed around her, but they felt distant—like they belonged to a different reality.
Krish looked at her, his smile soft, genuine. "You okay?" he asked quietly, leaning just enough so only she could hear.
Aakrati nodded. "Yeah."
But her voice lacked conviction.
—
After the ceremony, the energy shifted naturally toward the dining area. Chairs were pulled, plates arranged, and conversations began flowing more freely. The formal tension melted into a relaxed buzz of laughter and chatter.
The elders gathered together, already deep in conversation.
"They look perfect together," Krish's father said.
"Absolutely. Such a graceful girl," Krish's mother added.
"And Krish is such a sensible boy," Aakrati's mother replied proudly.
Aakrati and Krish were guided to sit together, side by side.
Krish adjusted his seat slightly toward her. "You should eat something," he said gently. "You barely had anything all day, right?"
"I'm fine," she replied softly, her eyes on her plate.
He studied her for a second, noticing the distance in her tone, but chose not to push.
Across the table, Shrisha was about to take the empty seat next to Aakrati when suddenly—
A hand caught her wrist.
She turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
Siddharth sat there, looking far too pleased with himself. "Sit here."
Shrisha raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?"
He leaned back, crossing his arms casually. "Because I helped you with your dress earlier. That makes us friends."
She scoffed lightly. "Friends, yes. But not close enough for you to decide where I sit."
Siddharth tilted his head, amused. "Then give me a chance. We'll get there."
Shrisha blinked, caught off guard by his confidence.
"You're very sure of yourself," she said.
"I have good instincts," he replied with a grin.
She tried to hold her attitude, but a faint blush betrayed her. "We'll see," she muttered before sitting down—though not without a small, reluctant smile.
—
Meanwhile, Arsh walked in quietly and pulled the chair next to Aakrati.
Too close.
She felt his presence before she even looked at him.
Her body stiffened almost instantly.
But no one else seemed to notice.
The table was alive with conversations—elders discussing families, future plans, wedding ideas.
Everything seemed normal.
Aakrati lowered her gaze to her plate, forcing herself to focus.
Just eat. Just act normal. Everything is fine.
But nothing felt fine.
Not when Arsh was sitting right beside her.
Not when she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat.
Earlier, he had looked like he might explode.
Now—
He was calm.
Too calm.
Something had changed.
The anger was still there, but it had settled into something quieter. Something controlled. Something far more dangerous.
This marriage isn't happening, he decided silently, his expression unreadable. She's not walking away from me like this.
And then—
Without warning—
His hand moved under the table.
Aakrati froze.
His fingers wrapped around hers.
Firm.
Possessive.
Her breath hitched sharply, but she kept her face still.
Arsh, what are you doing?! her mind screamed.
She tried to pull her hand away, slowly, carefully, so no one would notice.
But his grip tightened.
Unyielding.
Her fingers trembled in his hold.
She tried again.
Nothing.
It was useless.
Arsh didn't even look at her.
He sat there as if nothing was happening, casually picking up his glass with his free hand, nodding at something someone said.
"So, Krish," Shrisha spoke, "when are you planning the wedding?"
Krish smiled politely. "We'll discuss with everyone and decide soon."
"Yes, no rush, but don't delay too much," Krish's mother laughed.
Aakrati's heart pounded harder.
Her hand was still trapped.
Her pulse raced.
And she had to sit there—calm, composed, smiling faintly when needed—as if everything was perfectly fine.
Beside her, Arsh leaned ever so slightly closer.
Not enough for anyone to notice.
Just enough for her to feel it.
His voice came in a low whisper, meant only for her.
"Enjoying your engagement?"
Her breath faltered.
She didn't respond.
Couldn't.
Across the table, Siddharth was still busy with Shrisha.
"So," he said, casually reaching for a dish, "do you always argue this much, or am I just special?"
Shrisha rolled her eyes. "You're not special."
"Ouch," he placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "That hurts."
She suppressed a smile. "Good."
He leaned slightly closer. "You smiled."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"You're imagining things."
He chuckled. "Then I like my imagination."
Shrisha shook her head, but this time she didn't hide her smile.
—
Back at Aakrati's side—
Krish turned toward her again. "You really should eat," he said gently, placing a little food on her plate. "At least try."
She nodded faintly. "Okay."
But her hand…
Still held.
Still trapped.
Still burning under Arsh's grip.
Her mind raced.
What is he trying to do? Why now?
Arsh finally spoke again, just barely above a whisper.
"You think this is over?"
Her fingers stiffened.
"I didn't say anything today," he continued calmly. "But don't mistake that for acceptance."
Her throat went dry.
She tried once more to pull her hand free.
This time, he let her.
Suddenly.
Easily.
As if he had made his point.
Aakrati immediately pulled her hand back, placing it firmly in her lap, her fingers curling tightly.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't dare.
But she could feel his gaze on her.
Steady.
Unshaken.
Certain.
Across the table, laughter rose again.
Plans were being discussed.
Dates, venues, shopping.
Everything moving forward as if the future was already decided.
But Aakrati knew—
Nothing was settled.
Not really.
She picked up her glass of water, her hands still slightly shaking.
Krish noticed. "Hey," he said softly, "you sure you're okay?"
She forced a small smile.
"I'm fine."
But this time—
Even she didn't believe it.