Broken heart

Her POV

Sun rays brushed my face softly, warm and golden, pulling me out of sleep. I groaned and turned to the other side—only to hear the door bang open.

“This sleepyhead! Get up, stupid girl. It’s your wedding day!” Amma’s voice filled the room. “Still sleeping like it’s someone else’s wedding. Hurry up!”

My eyes flew open.

Wedding.

“Oh no—” I jumped out of bed, heart racing. Everything after that felt rushed—bath, prayers, trembling hands, nervous breaths. Before I could even understand what was happening, the stylists had arrived. My room turned into chaos—makeup brushes, jasmine flowers, silk sarees, aunties giving instructions all at once.

And just like that… I was almost ready.

My wedding.

Yes. My wedding.

A wedding I never imagined for myself. A wedding that came suddenly, without giving me time to understand what kind of life waited for me after this.

As the final touches were done, those words returned—sharp, cold, unforgettable.

“I want to marry you because of my parents. I already have someone in my heart. So don’t think we can be a lovey-dovey couple.”

Each word echoed inside my head, again and again, refusing to fade.

This was an arranged marriage.

And those words… were spoken by the man who was about to become my husband.

My in-laws were kind, warm, affectionate. They treated me like their own daughter even before the wedding. But he…

He was different.

A grumpy, silent man with eyes that never revealed what he was thinking. And what shattered me the most wasn’t his coldness—it was the fact that he was marrying me while loving someone else.

It felt like standing in a room full of light while my heart stayed in the dark.

“Sweetie, it’s time. Come, we have to go,” Amma said softly.

Her voice broke my chain of thoughts. I nodded, forcing a smile, and held her hand as we walked towards the wedding hall.

The music grew louder. The air smelled of incense and flowers. My heart pounded with every step.

And then…

I saw him.

He stood near the mandap, calm and composed, dressed in an ivory sherwani that fit him perfectly. Golden embroidery traced the fabric, subtle yet royal. His broad shoulders carried it effortlessly, as if the outfit was made only for him.

His hair was neatly styled, slightly messy in a way that looked natural rather than planned. A faint stubble framed his sharp jawline, giving him a rugged charm. His face was serious—no smile, no nervousness—just quiet confidence.

And his eyes…

Dark. Deep. Intense.

Eyes that looked like they had seen storms and learned to stay silent about them.

For a second, my breath hitched.

He looked unreal. Like a Greek god carved out of stone—strong, powerful, breathtaking. Someone who could make hearts flutter without even trying.

How can someone so handsome be so emotionally distant? I wondered.

Our eyes met briefly. There was no warmth, no affection—just a polite acknowledgment before he looked away.

That small moment hurt more than I expected.

The rituals began—mantras, blessings, sacred fire, whispered prayers. Time moved strangely, too fast and too slow at the same time. My hands shook as he tied the mangalsutra around my neck. Applause filled the hall, but my heart felt unbearably quiet.

And just like that…

I wasn’t just a girl anymore.

I was a wife.

A wife to a man who belonged to someone else in his heart.

A wife stepping into a life she knew nothing about.

A wife smiling for the world while hiding a thousand unanswered questions inside.

And somewhere deep down, I wondered—

Is this the beginning of my forever… or the start of my heartbreak? 💔

After few hours

I was still waiting for him.

I didn’t know where the hell he went after returning. He didn’t even spare me a glance after entering the room—our room. He simply changed his clothes and walked out, as if I wasn’t even there.

After changing myself, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to come back. Minutes stretched into hours, exhaustion finally pulling me under.

When I woke up suddenly, my heart sank. 11:30 p.m.

He still hadn’t returned.

Without thinking, I got up and stepped out. The mansion was enormous—cold, unfamiliar, endless. Every corridor looked the same, and I had no idea where to find him.

My steps slowed when I heard a voice.

Someone was talking… no—breaking.

A door stood slightly open. My breath hitched as I peeked inside.

It was him.

He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, clutching a large photo frame to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His shoulders shook. His voice—usually so controlled—was shattered.

“Why, jaan… why did you leave me?” he sobbed. "It’s been almost six years, and I still can’t forget you.”

My chest tightened. My legs felt numb.

“You know… today I got married,” he continued, his voice cracking into something unrecognizable. “But she’s not you. How can I be happy when she isn’t you?”

Each word stabbed deeper.

“My whole world was you… and she—she can never take your place. Even if she’s my wife now.” He laughed bitterly. “I can’t give your place to anyone, jaan. I don’t like her.”

I pressed a hand over my mouth, but it didn’t stop the sound my heart made when it broke.

“This room… it was supposed to be you in my room. You in my bed. But no… it’s her. And I don’t even want her there.”

My vision blurred.

“You know, jaan, I—”

That was it. I couldn’t hear anymore.

I turned and ran, my feet barely touching the floor as tears poured freely. I stumbled into the room—his room, not mine—and collapsed beside the bed, sliding down until I sat on the floor.

I hugged my knees to my chest and cried silently.

Why, God? Why me?

Why am I trapped in this life?

It was our first night.

Our first night.

And my heart had already shattered into a million pieces.

I knew this was a loveless marriage—but did I really deserve this?

Did I?