Author's Pov :-
While the entire Raizada family had gone for the Ashtavarnayak, Ishaan stayed back to attend an important meeting. Normally, he would never miss a family event; he always found time for traditions and loved being with everyone, even if it meant rescheduling work.
But this meeting was unavoidable, and he couldn't ignore it. As he left the office, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for not being with his family, especially knowing how excited his grandmother would have been.
After finishing the meeting, he made his way to a nearby wedding in the neighborhood, one of those routine invitations that came from people in the area. He adjusted his tie and ran a hand through his hair, thinking about the formality of it all. Weddings weren't exactly his favorite events, but he had learned long ago that appearances mattered.
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Vanya's POV:-
My heart pounded in my chest as I sat on the mandap, trying to make sense of the chaos around me. I had agreed to this marriage, even though a small, stubborn part of me had always hated the idea. I had tried to convince myself that it was just one day, one ritual, one performance for the people who called themselves my family. But nothing could have prepared me for this humiliation.
The groom's side had taken the money, the dowry, and run away. We Came to know that they were One of the con artist who take dowry and run away Just like that. My hands trembled as the crowd murmured, some in shock, some in cruel amusement. I felt my stepmother's cold gaze burn into me, her words slicing deeper than any blade. "You're a burden. No one is going to marry you. Look at this even today, you've brought shame to yourself and this family."
Shame, anger, helplessness it all collided inside me. I wanted to shrink, disappear, but my father said nothing. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room on me, judging, whispering, mocking. I wanted to scream, to run, to erase the day from existence, but I was trapped, pinned by the weight of their expectations and my own helplessness.
And yet, as the murmurs grew louder, my mind drifted back to the years I had spent with my mother the warmth, the laughter, the comfort that had vanished the day she died. I remembered how after she passed, my father remarried, and my stepmother had always made it clear that I was nothing but a burden, an obstacle to their new happiness. All those memories collided with the present moment, and I felt tears prick my eyes. Not just because of the ruined wedding, but because for the first time in years, the world seemed to confirm everything I had feared about myself.
I clenched my fists, biting back the sobs threatening to escape.
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Ishan's POV
I arrived at the wedding expecting the usual laughter and color, but the air was heavy and gray. People moved like ghosts, faces pulled tight with embarrassment or pity. I asked a few of them what had happened and heard the story in quick, bitter pieces. The groom had taken the money and run. A con, a scam, the kind of cruelty that made my hands clench without my permission.
What made my blood boil even more was the way everyone looked at the bride. As if she carried some catchy misfortune on her back. As if shame could be passed like an heirloom. I cut through the crowd toward the mandap and saw her there, the wedding lehenga askew, the color of her face swallowed by humiliation and tears. A woman stood over her, voice sharp and cruel, and I felt something cold and furious rise in me.
I stepped into the center of the mandap without thinking. The woman was holding the girl by the arm, about to push her out of the house, and she spat the word that lodged into my chest like a stone." You are a burden. And now, your wedding is ruined. No young man would marry you Only an old man would."
Get out of my house...
Who are you to do this, I interfered. Who are you to throw her out?
She turned on me with venom. I am her stepmother, she snapped. How dare you interfere.
How could you call yourself a mother when you treat your daughter like this I asked, It is not the bride's fault, the words came sharper than I intended.
She shrugged and said " the world had been an inconvenience since the day I got married. It is Vanya's bad luck. She has been nothing but a burden since I married into this house."
You should love her, I said. How is she a burden? What has any of that to do with this? She had the misfortune of being conned today. Does that make her less deserving of compassion?
She pointed to a random man in the crowd, the gesture theatrical. "Will that man marry her, she challenged. Will any young man marry her, someone whose wedding was canceled on the very day of her marriage, whose groom left her at the mandap and ran away? Will anyone- leave anyone would you marry such a women whose marriage got cancelled on her wedding day?
I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. My eyes flicked to the girl again, the bride, trembling under the weight of every cruel word. How could anyone speak to her like that? How could anyone blame her for a con man's crime? My blood boiled hotter with every passing second.
"Yes," I said, my voice low and steady, but carrying the weight of my resolve. "I would marry her."
The woman's eyes narrowed, disbelief flashing across her face. "Easier said than done," she spat. "Would you marry her right now? Right this moment? You'll say yes today, but tomorrow, you might run away like the groom did. Simple. There's only two choice either I marry her off to an old man and kick her out, or you marry her."
I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the girl whose life had been turned upside down in a single morning. She deserved someone who would stand for her, protect her, and not leave when things got messy. "I will marry her," I said, my voice firmer this time, leaving no room for argument, "but only if she agrees."
I looked at her then, searching her eyes for an answer"
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Vanya's POV:-
I stared at him, my eyes blurred with tears, my hands trembling in my lap. The noise around me the murmurs, the whispers, the cruel laughter faded into the background. I couldn't understand why a man would step in like this, why he would put himself in the middle of all this just for me.
And yet… there was something in his voice, firm and calm, that made the fear in my chest loosen, just a little. I thought about the choice laid out before me: married off to some old man, forced out of the only home I had, or… this stranger who had already shown he wouldn't let me be humiliated further.
I bit my lip and tried to think clearly, though my thoughts swirled like a storm. Could I trust him? Could I rely on him in the chaos, in the mess my life had become? I think… I think I could.
I nodded slightly, letting my eyes drop to my hands. Tears slid down my cheeks, and I swallowed hard, feeling the lump in my throat. My voice was small when I finally spoke, but steady enough. "Yes… I agree."
It wasn't excitement or fantasy that made me nod. It was practicality, it was a flicker of relief, it was the tiniest spark of hope that maybe… maybe someone could stand for me when I had no one else. I thought, this is better than the other choice. Better to marry this man than to be forced into a life I did not want.
And so I nodded again, letting the tears fall freely, feeling the weight on my shoulders ease, just a little, as I placed my trust cautious, trembling, but real in the hands of someone who had already protected me once today.
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Ishaan's POV:-
I saw her small, trembling nod, and a wave of relief washed over me. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to know she wasn't resisting, enough to know I could do this without forcing her. I straightened my back, took a deep breath, and said aloud, more to myself than anyone else, "Okay… I'll marry her."
Her stepmother's eyes widened for a moment, then she muttered, "Fine. I'll arrange a sherwani for you and make it fast you only have half an hour until the auspicious time end. "
I excused myself politely and stepped aside, pulling out my phone. I had to inform my family they were at Ashtavinayak, unaware of the chaos unfolding here. I dialed Arnav first, my quiet and dependable brother.
"Arnav, is everyone there?" I asked.
"Yes, bhai," he replied, calm but alert, as always. "Why? What happened bhai?"
I asked him to keep the phone on speaker and explained the entire situation to everyone about the con groom, the humiliation, the stepmother's cruelty, and the sudden necessity of marrying Vanya immediately. There was a long pause, then I heard the familiar, soft sigh of understanding from Dadu.
"Ishan," he said, his voice steady yet carrying concern, "I understand the intensity of the situation. We'll be home in half an hour. We'll attend your wedding."
From behind, I could hear Krishna muttering with his usual mix of sarcasm and excitement, "Unexpected… sudden wedding, brother."
I shook my head, a small smile touching my lips. "Not a wedding… sudden wedding. The priest said we have only fifteen minutes for the auspicious time. After that, we won't get a proper moment to marry. I have no choice but to do this now."
Arnav's calm voice replied immediately, "Okay. Then do one thing. We'll reach home and prepare everything for her — rituals, welcoming, everything."
I could almost hear the slight shock in everyone's voices. A wedding in half an hour? But practicality won out.
Dadi's voice came softly through the phone, a mix of surprise, happiness, and a touch of sadness. "Ishan… I'm a bit sad I couldn't see the wedding of my eldest grandson properly. But… I have an idea. I won't explain now, but until you both arrive, we'll prepare everything at home. You both get married here first, then come to the house. We'll create the rituals there."
I nodded, absorbing every word, feeling the weight of responsibility, but also a quiet reassurance. My family understood the urgency, and their support made the impossible feel just a little more manageable.
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Author's POV:-
Ishaan stepped forward, adjusting the folds of his sherwani, his hands steady despite the storm of emotions swirling around him. He glanced at Vanya, who sat under the ghunghat (veil covering her face), her small form trembling ever so slightly. Even without seeing her face clearly, he could feel the faint tremor, the quiet sobs restrained beneath the delicate fabric. A protective warmth rose in him, urging him to hold her, to reassure her silently that he would never let her feel this helpless again.
The pandit, his voices calm but commanding, instructed him to tie the mangalsutra (sacred necklace symbolizing marriage). Ishaan hesitated for just a fraction of a second, the weight of responsibility settling fully on his shoulders. His eyes flicked toward Vanya, her hands nervously gripping the lengha in her lap, and he realized there was no turning back. With deliberate care, he fastened the mangalsutra around her neck, feeling the gravity of the act. Every small movement, every gentle tug of the chain, symbolized a promise he intended to keep with every fiber of his being.
Next, the pandit handed him the Sindoor (vermillion powder applied to the hair parting, a traditional symbol of marriage) and guided his hand. Ishaan's fingers brushed the delicate parting of her hair as he applied the kumkum, his mind whispering quietly, reverently, the vows he was making in that moment. This was not a ceremonial act alone; this was a sacred commitment to protect, cherish, and nurture the woman before him.
As the pandits announced that it was time for the saath phere (seven rounds around the sacred fire, each symbolizing a promise between husband and wife), Ishaan took a deep, grounding breath. The first round was for nourishment and shelter. As he lifted his foot to begin, he silently vowed, Today onwards, I commit to providing her nourishment and shelter, physical and emotional, for as long as we live.
The second round symbolized strength. His gaze swept briefly over Vanya, hidden beneath her veil, and he promised inwardly, I will be her strength when she feels weak, her anchor when the world tries to sweep her away.
The third round stood for shared prosperity. Ishaan's mind wandered to the life they would build together, the dreams she had deferred for others, the comfort she had never known, and he pledged, I will ensure abundance, not just of wealth, but of joy, opportunities, and respect.
The fourth round represented harmony and mutual affection. As he moved carefully around the fire, he thought, I will nurture peace and understanding, even when life tests us, and my affection will never waver.
The fifth round was for progeny, for raising children with love and guidance. He didn't yet know if children would come, but the promise was unwavering: I will support and guide our future family, if we are blessed with one, with care and wisdom.
The sixth round was for health and well-being. He felt the weight of responsibility more keenly here, remembering Vanya's struggles, her delicate trust in him now, and promised, I will safeguard her health, her spirit, and her happiness.
Finally, the seventh round was for friendship, faithfulness, and lifelong partnership. Ishaan's heart swelled with quiet determination. I will be her friend, confidant, and partner in every joy and sorrow. I will be loyal, steadfast, and unwavering.
Each vow echoed in his mind as he circled the sacred fire, not as mere ritual, but as a heartfelt commitment. Every movement, every step, carried the weight of responsibility and the warmth of genuine intent. He was not just marrying her because circumstances demanded it; he was marrying her because he had chosen to stand for her, to honor her, and to promise her a life of care, respect, and unwavering support.
And as the seventh round completed, he felt the quiet weight of destiny settle around them, the fire crackling as if acknowledging the sincerity of the promises made, and Ishaan knew that from this moment forward, his life was irrevocably intertwined with hers ,not by chance, but by choice, by courage, and by love still unspoken but deeply felt.
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