The morning arrived far too soon.
I had barely slept the previous night, thoughts about the Malhotras kept circling endlessly in my head.
It was only 6:30 when Mumma began knocking on my door. "Tanvi, wake up! We're getting late!"
I groaned softly and called out, "I'm awake, Mumma, don't worry."
Dragging myself out of bed, I went to the washroom, splashed cold water on my face, and stood under the warm shower. The water felt comforting, as if washing away all the nervousness that had built up inside me. By the time I stepped out, sunlight had spread across my room, painting even the corners in gold.
I wore the lavender kurta and the silver-threaded jewelry I'd bought yesterday. The delicate embroidery glistened faintly in the sunlight. I applied a stroke of kajal and a nude lipstick, light, simple, just the way I liked. Leaving my hair open, I glanced at myself in the mirror and tried to calm my racing thoughts.
A knock on the door broke my silence. It was Mumma, holding two boxes stacked on top of each other, one small, one large.
"Tanvi," she said with a smile, "open these. You'll love them."
Still confused, I opened the smaller box first. Inside were lavender and silver bangles, shining beautifully under the morning light. My eyes widened in surprise, but before I could say anything, Mumma motioned toward the bigger box.
I lifted the lid, a pair of white heels. Elegant, but completely not me.
"Mumma, why did you get these?" I asked softly.
"Because, beta, you look beautiful, and every beautiful girl deserves something special. Take them as a gift from us. Please don't refuse," she said, her eyes gleaming with affection.
I smiled faintly and nodded. After she left, I slipped on the bangles, two on each wrist, perfectly matching my outfit. Then I wore the white heels, though they felt a little uncomfortable.
As I walked out, Mumma looked at me from head to toe and frowned playfully. "Something's missing."
Before I could react, she gently pulled me back into my room, made me sit on the bed, and placed a tiny white bindi on my forehead.
"Now it's perfect," she said, smiling. "You look beautiful."
Papa was already waiting, so we had a quick breakfast before the car arrived. Everything felt strange, the luxury of the car, the silence inside, even the air seemed heavy. Mumma kept checking the time on her phone while Papa stared straight ahead.
I rolled down the window slightly, letting the soft breeze touch my face. It helped, even if just a little.
After half an hour, we turned into a private street lined with guards at every entrance. The small houses disappeared, replaced by sprawling mansions with tall iron gates and manicured gardens.
And then, I saw it, Malhotra Mansion.
The nameplate gleamed beside the gate in bold golden letters. The guard saluted as our car stopped, and a maid appeared to escort us inside.
The mansion stood tall and royal, white marble walls, grand pillars, glittering glass windows. A vast garden stretched ahead with fruit orchards, flower beds, and a fountain at the center. Everything about it screamed power and perfection.
At the main door stood a woman in her early fifties, graceful and commanding. Dressed in an elegant saree with subtle jewelry and neatly tied hair, she exuded quiet sophistication.
"Welcome," she said warmly. "You must be the Guptas. I'm Vedika Malhotra, Arvind's wife."
She folded her hands politely, and we did the same. She led us inside, where the mansion looked even more breathtaking, crystal chandeliers, antique decor, and walls painted in deep gold and ivory tones. I felt small, almost invisible, in that sea of luxury.
As we sat on the sofa, my eyes drifted to the family portraits on the wall. One showed Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra with an older woman I assumed to be his mother. Another featured a younger couple, perhaps his brother and his wife, and behind them stood two boys.
When I looked closer, I froze.
Ansh Malhotra.
There he was, standing beside the boy who must be Kabir. My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, everything blurred.
Before I could process it, a deep voice snapped me back. "Manas! You're here. Sorry to keep you waiting."
It was Mr. Arvind Malhotra himself. His presence filled the room, tall, confident, eyes sharp but calm. I quickly lowered my gaze, remembering Mumma's whisper:
"Don't talk too much. Smile when needed, and be respectful."
I nodded slightly, trying to breathe normally.
We touched the feet of both Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra for blessings. Soon, an elderly woman entered, dressed in a beige saree with her silver hair braided neatly and adorned with tiny gemstones. She looked regal yet kind.
"This is my mother, Mrs. Savitri Malhotra," said Arvind.
We all bent down again for her blessings. Throughout, I could feel Vedika's sharp gaze on me, as if measuring my every gesture, my every word.
After a few minutes of polite conversation, Vedika smiled and said, "Kabir will join us soon."
The name alone made my stomach twist.
And then, a voice. "Hello. Nice to meet you all."
I looked up.
Kabir Malhotra stood there, composed and tall, dressed in a pastel green kurta with white trousers. His features were sharp, golden-brown skin, perfectly styled hair, and eyes that carried a strange calmness. He greeted my parents respectfully and touched their feet for blessings.
"Take Tanvi to the garden," said Mr. Malhotra. "You both can talk comfortably there."
Kabir nodded and gestured for me to follow.
The garden smelled faintly of roses and jasmine. The silence between us was thick until he finally spoke.
"The circumstances forced you into this marriage, didn't they?"
I hesitated, then replied quietly, "Yes."
He nodded slightly. "Then, we're on the same page. I need to discuss something with you, but not here. Give me your number. I'll text you the date, time, and place by tonight. Meet me there."
I handed him my number, unsure of what to say. He wasn't rude, but there was an undeniable coldness in his tone, like someone who had built walls long ago.
For a fleeting moment, my mind wandered back to Ansh, his soft smile, his warmth, his kindness. Kabir felt nothing like that. Being around him felt like standing next to ice.
Just then, a maid called from afar, "Sir, lunch is ready."
We returned to the dining hall. Lunch was formal and quiet, the clinking of silver cutlery echoing louder than words.
As we prepared to leave, Mr. Malhotra said, "Sadly, Ansh couldn't be here. He's in the UK visiting his grandmother."
My heart skipped again at his name.
Then he added, "The engagement date will be finalized tomorrow. Manas, please come with your wife to the temple in the morning."
Papa nodded obediently. We exchanged our goodbyes, and I followed my parents back to the car.
As the mansion disappeared behind us, I couldn't help but feel the weight of what was coming.
The marriage wasn't just a union, it was a bargain, a promise made years ago.
And I was the price.