Third person’s pov!

The morning air was thick with tension, the sun casting shadows across the village. Inside the barn, Vedant sat on the floor, his back resting against the rough wooden wall. He stared at the fresh clothes the boy, who stood as a guard last night, had shoved at him, still folded neatly on the ground. The fabric was coarse and plain—cheap, like everything about this forced marriage.

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. His mind was a chaotic mess, the weight of the decision he had made pressing down on him like a boulder.

Vedant had always believed in the sanctity of marriage. His parents’ bond was the epitome of love and resilience, something he had revered and hoped to have in his own life someday.

His father, a man of little business acumen, had once ruined the family’s wealth entirely. His mother, who had been born into luxury, stood by her husband despite the terrible losses.

Despite her father's insistence that she return to her home and take her children with her, she refused. She had chosen loyalty and love. And, despite the hardships of those years, his parents' love had grown stronger than the storm.

But today, Vedant was not marrying for love. He wasn't getting married for a future based on equal respect and affection. He was marrying a stranger—a girl he hardly knew—to protect her from demons posing as family.  

It was hardly the marriage he had imagined for himself. This was something entirely different.

“Hey,” one of the boys guarding the barn called out. “It’s time. Get dressed.”

With a sigh, Vedant picked up the clothes and moved to a corner of the barn where a couple of buckets of water and barely there soap was kept for his use. He quickly freshened up in the corner.

His hands trembled as he unfolded the fabric. It wasn’t fear—no, he wasn’t afraid. It was the weight of responsibility, the weight of stepping into the unknown.

As he changed into the simple attire, he caught sight of his reflection in a small puddle of water on the ground. His expression was hard, his eyes burning with resolve.

“If this is how it has to be, so be it,” he muttered to himself. “I will make sure she never regrets this.”

On the other side of the village, Vaidehi sat on the cold floor of her home. Her reflection stared back at her from the cracked mirror leaning against the wall. Dressed in an old saree, her face was devoid of makeup, her hair loosely tied back. No jewelry adorned her neck or ears. She looked more like a mourner than a bride. 

The contrast was obvious as her cousin sister, dressed in a vivid Kancheepuram silk saree and layers of gold jewelry, sat in the adjacent room.

Vaidehi's throat clenched as she considered the events of the previous twenty-four hours.   The treachery, accusations, and violence were all too much.

She wished to believe it was all a nightmare, that she would awaken to find her mother by her side, caressing her and wiping away her tears. But the stark reality was unforgiving.

"Amma, please," Vaidehi said quietly, glancing up at Manjula, who was standing by the doorway, her face stiffened with rage. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Manjula turned sharply, her eyes blazing.

“Believe you?” She hissed. “After what you have done to this family? After you have brought shame to our name?”

“Amma, I didn’t do anything! I was...” Vaidehi’s voice broke, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to tell her mother about the molestation attempt, about how she had fought back, about how she had hoped her mother would protect her. But the words wouldn’t come.

“You think your tears can undo the damage?” Manjula snapped, stepping closer. “You think your excuses will fix what you have ruined? It’s lucky that the guy didn’t get a chance to run off after he got what he wanted.. Raghav Anna did a good job by locking him there. Otherwise, I don’t know how we would ever show our faces again!”

“Amma, please... Please listen to me.” Vaidehi sobbed, her hands clutching at her mother’s arm.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you. Just sit there and do as you are told. This is the least you can do to make amends.” Manjula jerked her arm away, her expression cold.

Vaidehi’s heart shattered at her mother’s words. The woman who should have been her shield, her comfort, had become her judge and executioner. She wiped her tears, her hands trembling as she sat there. If no one would believe her, then what was the point of trying?

The village square was abuzz with murmurs as the two brides were led to the mandap. The dramatic difference between them was obvious—one glowing in her finery, the other a picture of quiet despair. 

Vedant waited at the edge of the square, his expression unreadable, as the boys eventually left him alone. The coarse shirt clung to his form, the cheap fabric serving as a reminder of how absurd the scenario was. He looked at Vaidehi, whose downcast eyes and shaking hands told him everything he needed to know.

Their gazes connected for a brief moment, and the sorrow in her eyes made him despise the entire group of people standing around them. Vedant drew a long breath, his determination strengthening.

'I'll make this right,' he told himself as he came forward.

****

A small group of men stood anxiously waiting for the arrival of the train. The sound of its whistle pierced through the air, and moments later, Viswa stepped off the train, his expression tired from the long journey. He adjusted the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder and walked toward the familiar faces of his friends.

"Viswa!" One of them waved him over urgently. Alongside them stood a couple of men from the temple administration, their demeanor calm but hurried as they guided the priest toward a parked car.

"What is going on? Why were you calling me repeatedly?" Viswa's forehead furrowed as he spotted his friends' apprehensive expressions.

"Viswa, there is a mess. A terrible mess." One of them paused, looking around at the others before taking a step forward.

"What  mess? What are you talking about?" He questioned, his tone worried.

The friend sighed deeply and rubbed his temple.

"Your sister... Vaidehi… something happened last night." He said and narrated the entire story.

Viswa froze, his eyes widening with disbelief.

"What?!" He exclaimed, his voice reverberating around the station. "What the hell are you saying? Who gave them the power to make such a decision? Did they just believe all that nonsense without hearing her side of the story? Didn’t you say the barn was locked from outside. How couldn’t those imbeciles not realise that someone trapped them there.."

“We don’t know, Viswa. By the time we reached, the whole matter had escalated. And now she is getting married to someone… a stranger. I believe his name is Vedant. They have already—"

But Viswa wasn't waiting for him to finish. His blood was boiling, and his legs were already moving as he dashed into the parking lot.

"Give me the key?" He demanded, his voice full of rage and despair.

One of his buddies handed him the key, and Viswa leaped onto the bike and drove away, his friends following behind.

The road was uneven, and the journey was unpleasant, but nothing could take his mind off the tempest that was raging inside. His sister, Vaidehi, was being forced into marriage, and he had not been there to protect her. Guilt and wrath burned in his chest, propelling every movement.

When he got to the venue, the scene that greeted him rendered him motionless. The mandap stood in the middle of the village square, the priest chanting mantras as the crowd watched in solemn silence.

His eyes darted to the mandap, and there she was—Vaidehi. She sat stiffly, her face pale, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

And beside her sat a man he didn’t recognize, dressed in simple clothes, his expression grim but determined.

When he arrived, heads turned to look at him, whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

But before he could take another step, he saw the man beside his sister lean forward, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted the nuptial chain.

Time seemed to slow as Viswa watched, helpless, as the nuptial chain was placed around Vaidehi’s neck. The priest’s voice rose, declaring the marriage solemnized.

A/N

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Love,

SF❤️