AANYA

The mirror never lies.
At least, that's what I told myself as I sat before it, motionless, letting the brushes and powders dance across my skin.

The makeup artist worked with soft precision-dabbing, blending, setting-as if I were a canvas and she, a silent painter. I watched her hands more than my reflection; looking at myself felt...too loud.

When she draped the heavy red saree over my shoulder-silk rich enough to catch fire beneath the lights-and adjusted the full-sleeved blouse that shimmered like embers, I finally dared to lift my eyes.

I brushed a strand of hair away, whispering to my reflection,
"You look like a bride, Aanya. But you don't feel like one."

The room was quiet, too quiet. Aarav wasn't here. Of course he wasn't. He'd gone out for work, as if receptions and vows and new brides were just... events penciled in between meetings.

Just then the door creaked open, and my body stiffened before my eyes lifted.

Aarav.

He froze on the threshold, his hand still resting on the door handle, his eyes on me. Not blinking. Not moving. Just... looking. From head to toe, and back again.

I fumbled for words but said nothing, just looked at him. He caught my glance, cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... should get ready now."

He walked past me, his presence brushing the air, and set something inside the cupboard. Calm. Collected. As if my world wasn't still tilting from the way he had looked at me. Then, without a glance, he picked his clothes and disappeared into the washroom.

The room exhaled with him. I turned to the window, forcing my eyes outward.

Big cars lined the driveway, engines purring. Guests stepping out draped in silks and suits, laughter spilling ahead of them like perfume. Rich. Polished. Belonging.

And me? Just a girl in borrowed courage and a red saree heavy enough to drown me.

The door burst open again. "Bhabhiii!" Avni's voice sing-songed into the room. She stopped, her eyes widening. "Woww... you're looking damn gorgeous!"

I smiled faintly, murmuring a thank you.

A moment later, her brother stepped in-dressed sharp in black formals. I blinked. Almost instinctively, my eyes lingered. Black again.

I think it's his favorite, I thought, my gaze drifting around the room. The curtains, the furniture, the polished shoes by the corner-everything dark, everything muted. Always black. Or deep blue. Never soft. Never easy. Just like him.

"Let's go, Bhabhi," Avni chirped, tugging me along.

Downstairs, introductions blurred. Aarav's best friend, sharp in a navy suit. "Arrey, finally," he teased, patting Aarav's shoulder. "Introduce me to Bhabhi, at least!"

Aarav's voice was even, steady. "This is Vihaan, one of my closest friend. And this is his wife, Vaani."

Vaani stepped forward, warm eyes taking me in. "You look so beautiful," she said softly, squeezing my hand. "Red suits you perfectly."

Her kindness felt like balm. I managed a small smile. "Thank you... you're looking very graceful too."

They lingered for a moment, then Vihaan asked, "The others didn't come?"

Aarav gave a faint shrug."Busy with work. And... family drama."

The conversation drifted on-light jokes, half-finished stories, the kind people tell to fill silences. I nodded when I had to, smiled when expected, but the moment cracked when I felt two sharp presences approach.

My mother. My sister-in-law.

Their eyes scanned me, head to toe, their smiles painted.

"You look... different," my mother said, her tone dipping into mockery. "Don't forget, Aanya, whatever happens-your husband's respect is everything. Fulfil his needs. Don't ever say no to him. Understood?"

Her words landed like stones.

My sister-in-law leaned closer, harsher. "Don't act too smart here. Don't think wearing gold makes you rich. You'll always be what you are."

They left before I could reply, perfume and poison trailing behind them.

And then I heard it. The whispers, not theirs, but from other corners.

"She looks so dull."
"She doesn't look like a bride, more like a guest."
"Why her ? He could've chosen better."

The words burrowed into my skin. I gripped my saree, chest tight, and thought of slipping away, just leaving the hall-

But that's when I saw him.

The breath left my body. My chest tightened, the room spinning. Not now. Not here.

Every muscle trembled with recognition, with old fear crawling back into my skin.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. My knees gave way for a second-until a hand pressed firmly against my shoulder.

Aarav's hand.

His voice brushed low. "Are you okay?"

I forced the words out. "Ya-yaa... I'm fine." My voice stammered, my lungs burning. "Just... too many people. I'm not used to it."

He studied me, quiet concern flickering behind his calm mask. But before he could say more, the man approached.

"Mr. Saxena, congratulations!" He shook Aarav's hand, then turned to me with a smile that felt like poison. "Namaste, Bhabhiji. You've got a very beautiful wife, Mr. Saxena."

Before I could flinch, Aarav's arm slid around my shoulders-warm, firm, protective. A side hug, but more than that. His voice steady. "Yes. Indeed, she's beautiful. After all, she's mine."

I turned my head slightly, staring up at him. Mine?

Dinner was announced. We moved to the long table, guests filling every space. That man sat directly across, my mother by my side, Aarav at the other.

Her whispers dug in again, venom sweetened for my ears alone. "See, you ruined it, idiot."
A sting settled in my chest, but I swallowed it down.

After a few bites, I set my spoon down and rose quietly.

Aarav's voice stopped me. "Sit."

I turned, startled. "I'm full... I think I should leave."

His gaze didn't waver. Calm, firm. "Just finish this. After that, we'll go."

Something in his tone left no room for refusal. My lips pressed together, and I nodded, sinking back into the chair.

My spoon shook in my hand. My food threatened to spill. Aarav's fingers caught it, steadying me without words.

Then, with calm defiance, he lifted a bite from the plate. "Eat."

I glanced around-people were watching. His eyes didn't move. "You're my wife, Aanya. Don't look at them. Just eat."

The calm in his voice wrapped around me like shelter. Slowly, hesitantly, I took the bite. The food was tasteless, but the moment... heavy.

The night blurred after. Farewells, polite smiles. His friends left, and so did the warmth.

But when they left, the crowd shifted, and suddenly-I was alone.

And then he came, the man-that man-stepped close, his breath against my ear "You can't escape me". His words cut deeper than the whispers ever could.
Fear paralyzed me. The past surged forward, heavy, suffocating.

I didn't even hear Aarav at first, calling softly, "Let's go."

Only when his hand touched my shoulder again did I blink, jolt back into the room. "Hmm... what?" My voice barely a breath.

His eyes searched mine. "Are you okay? Something bothering you?"

I shook my head, quick, desperate. "No. Just tired. I... I want to rest."

The walk back to the room was heavy, my saree dragging like chains. I changed quickly, slipped into comfort clothes, and curled into couch.
When Aarav entered, I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. He didn't disturb me-just took his place on the bed, leaving the silence to fill the space between us.

Only when his breaths grew steady did I turn, switching on the lamp.

I pulled out my diary, the pen trembling in my grip.

And I wrote. To the only one who still lived in these pages.

Sameer...

The world saw me in red tonight. They saw glitter, jewels, gold... but they didn't see me. Inside, I was still just the girl who lost you, the girl who forgets how to breathe when the shadows return.

I wanted to disappear, Sameer. The whispers, the taunts... they cut deeper than any blade. And then... he came close. Yes, he's back here too. His words still echo in my ears, cold and cruel.

I smiled when I should have cried. I ate when all I wanted was to run.

And yet, a part of me wonders-how long can I keep living like this?
Maybe tomorrow I'll find a way.
But tonight, Sameer... I only know how to bleed in silence.

The ink bled into the page. The rest lived only in my thoughts, too heavy to write.