The soft sound of wedding bells echoed in her ears, but Aanya stood still—frozen in a world that didn't feel like her own.
Her eyes flicked to the mirror as her friends added the final touch to her bridal look. She looked... beautiful. But she didn't feel it.
This wasn't how she had imagined her wedding day.
She had always dreamt of love. Of slow, secret glances. Of late-night calls and butterflies in the stomach.
But life didn't give her that kind of love.
So instead, it gave her this—an arranged marriage with a man she barely knew.
A stranger.
> "You're quiet, Aanya," her best friend whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Do you want to talk to him once before the wedding?"
Aanya gave a small smile, but her eyes held a storm.
> "No point. He made it clear he's not into this either."
---
On the other side of the house, Armaan stood in silence, fixing the collar of his sherwani.
His brother nudged him.
> "You still look like you're at a funeral, bro."
Armaan's jaw clenched.
> "I'm doing this for the family. That's it."
> "You don't believe in love, do you?"
Armaan scoffed.
> "Love is a distraction. It fades. This... this is practical. Simple. Peaceful."
But his mind wasn't peaceful at all.
There was something about her—Aanya.
He hadn't spoken to her properly, but her silence, her calm, it stirred something.
Not attraction. Not admiration. Just... awareness.
And that bothered him.
---
The wedding hall sparkled with soft golden lights. The air was filled with music, chatter, and forced smiles.
Aanya walked toward the mandap like she was walking toward her own fate. Not dreadful, but unfamiliar.
Her heart wasn't broken—just numb.
Across the flames, their eyes met for a brief second.
No chemistry. No warmth.
But there was a strange pull. An unknown gravity.
Like two people tied together by something neither of them understood yet.
---
They took their vows.
They circled the fire.
And in the eyes of the world, they were now husband and wife.
> "Smile for the camera," someone called.
They both obeyed, a fake smile pasted on each face.
But inside?
Two strangers.
Two secrets.
Two different worlds.
And a lifetime waiting ahead.
---
The car ride home was silent.
She stared out of the window.
He kept tapping his fingers on his knee.
When they reached the house, petals were showered on them. Everyone smiled. They were welcomed like a fairytale couple.
But neither of them believed in fairy tales.
As she stepped inside his home—now their home—Aanya whispered to herself,
> "If love isn't fated for me... maybe I'll build it with my own hands."