The series of misunderstandings didn’t end with the engagement or the wedding planning—they continued, quietly and painfully, up until the day of our wedding... and even beyond. Raman, though a loving and respectful partner, was still deeply rooted in the same narrow mindset he had grown up in. Being the obedient son he always was, he couldn’t resist the constant emotional pull of his family’s opinions. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand me—but something had started building silently inside him, something that slowly began creating distance between us.
And then, the big day arrived. Our wedding day.
Despite all the friction, we were both excited. I was about to begin a new chapter with the man I had loved through every high and low. Raman looked royal in his brown coat-pant and sehra, while I wore a traditional red lehenga, the color of new beginnings, dreams, and love.
In the chaos of the day, my sister and I had decided to get ready at home instead of the parlor. Naturally, we got a little late. As a playful gesture, my sister called Raman and said, “Your bride will take some more time… can you wait a bit longer?” It was meant in jest, lighthearted and simple. But the moment spiraled quickly into something else.
Raman passed on the message, and in no time, my father-in-law called my father, fuming, “Your girl is now dictating terms to us? We’re all ready and about to leave for the venue—what kind of respect is this?”
My father, unaware of the context, called me and asked with a hint of disappointment, “What nonsense have you done now, at this moment?” His words stung. My heart sank. I couldn’t understand how such a small joke could be taken so seriously—how Raman couldn’t see the humor, and instead let it become another spark in this slow-burning fire between our families.
Meanwhile, Raman wasn’t having it easy either. His father scolded him, questioning his choice, labeling me as someone who would never respect their traditions or elders. Raman was torn—between the love he felt for me and the image his family had started to build of me in his mind.
The emotional weight on both of us was heavy. A strange blend of feelings—excitement, hurt, confusion, love, fear—rushed through us. On one side, we were thrilled to be together. On the other, we were beginning to question if we were truly meant for this union.
And then, we reached the palace—the venue that held our dreams and doubts alike.
Everything else faded when our eyes met. In that moment, nothing mattered. Raman looked so handsome, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. And he—he looked at me with the same deep love that had always been in his eyes. That silent gaze reminded me why we had fought for this day.
The rituals began, and the jaimala was done with laughter and joy. Soon, his friends came asking us to join the dance floor. Raman took my hand with a smile—but the moment he caught his father’s stern eyes, he dropped it midway and walked alone to the dance floor, leaving me behind.
That moment cracked something inside me. I stood in the middle, alone, watching the man I loved walk away, not by choice but out of fear, out of conditioning. My smile faded, and I felt the weight of what lay ahead.
Later, as I freshened up in the dressing room, my heart was full of questions. The wedding wasn’t over yet—feras and final rituals were still left. For a moment, I asked myself, Should I go through with this? Or should I step back? I was sensing the fragile foundation beneath our beautiful story.
And then, I asked myself the most important question: Do I still love Raman?
The answer was a quiet but steady Yes.
With that one answer, I cleared my mind of every shadow of doubt. I stood up, wiped the tears hiding behind my kajal, and walked toward the vedi with strength. We completed the feras, sealed our bond with promises of togetherness, and by evening, we were finally… husband and wife.
It was an overwhelming feeling—beautiful, surreal, powerful.
As we reached his home, a warm welcome awaited me. His cousins had prepared a lovely gesture that made me smile genuinely after hours of emotional whirlwind. That little moment of love filled me with hope again.
Because despite everything, I still believed in us.
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