“I never wanted to marry you! How dare you do this to me?”

His voice thundered through the room, each word cutting deeper than the one before. Aarav’s eyes burned with anger — anger so fierce that it almost scared me. The same eyes that once looked at me with warmth and mischief were now full of hatred.

“You have fallen so low ki aap ye karoge ab mere saath… mujhe toh sharam aa rahi hai ki maine aapse kbhi pyaar bhi kia tha!” he spat, his voice trembling with rage. “Yaar, I’m ashamed that I was even friends with you! You never cared about me, Rashika. Never!”

I stood frozen, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. I felt small and ridiculous inside the heavy lehenga I had never wanted to wear for him. The jewelry weighed like guilt. My mouth wanted to speak but no sound came out.

“Aapke liye sab kuch cheenna hi sahi hai na!” he continued, his words echoing in the silent room. “Par ye baat yaad rakhna Rashika — main kabhi tumse mohabbat nahi karunga! Bahut shaadi karne ka shauk hai na? I’m telling you, tum bahut pachtaugi. You’ll beg for forgiveness every day, but I swear, I’ll make your life a living hell after this!”

He shouted until his voice cracked, until his hatred spilled out like a wound that had been kept closed for too long. And I… I just stood there.

Speechless.
Helpless.

My throat felt dry; my eyes burned, but I could not find a single word that would make him hear. When I finally tried to speak, my voice was nothing but a thin thread.

“Aarav… I never did this,” I whispered, hands trembling. “Why do you not believe me?”

But he wasn’t listening. He had made up his mind. In his eyes, I was the reason his life had broken. The reason the evening had turned into a nightmare.

He looked at me one last time — red-eyed, jaw tight — and then he walked out. The door slammed like finality, leaving behind a silence worse than his words.

I could still hear my heartbeat. I could still feel the tremble in my hands. And I could still see the room — the room he had decorated himself.

The irony was cruel.

This was supposed to be a room filled with laughter, promises, and small, daily plans. White lilies and red roses were everywhere — arranged with thought, maybe for someone he loved. The soft fairy lights glowed against pastel curtains. The air smelled of roses and sandalwood. For anyone else, this could have been a dream. For me it was a nightmare I never chose.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I tried to wipe them, but they kept coming. How did I end up here? How did fate twist our lives like this?

I wasn’t supposed to marry Aarav. I was supposed to marry his elder brother — Dev Sisodia.

Dev, He is Calm, sure, the man everyone liked for his predictable gentleness. The one my parents had trusted. The one my heart thought would mean safety. Aarav was only ever Dev’s younger brother, the one who teased and teased again, the one I called my friend.

Life did not ask my permission. Life only pushed, and suddenly everything had fallen into the wrong places.

I don’t even know how it happened. One misunderstanding, one chaotic moment, and now here I was — standing in a bridal lehenga that was never meant for me, in a room full of flowers and memories and a man who thought I had betrayed him.

I sat on the edge of the bed and held the heavy dupatta as if it might steady me. My reflection in the mirror looked like someone I didn’t know — a stranger with swollen eyes, smudged kohl, and a face that had just lost everything.

What have I become?

I walked to the washroom slowly. The lehenga brushed the floor, the sound of my bangles jingling felt like broken music. I locked the door and slid down until I was sitting on the cold tiles. The chill did nothing to stop my tears.

When I let myself breathe, a sob escaped. I couldn’t hold it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Aarav wasn’t supposed to hate me.

Memories came rushing in — small, ordinary things that now hurt like knives. Him stealing the last piece of dosa at a college canteen. The late-night talks about future jobs and ridiculous dreams. The way he had once looked at me with something more than friendship but never said it loud enough to scare us both.

He had been my best friend before he was anything else.

We had shared our secrets, our laughter, our petty jealousies. He had stood by me when things were heavy, made me laugh in the smallest crises. And somewhere between ordinary conversations and silly fights, love happened — quietly, without fireworks, in the space between two breaths.

But that love never got the chance to survive.

Fate — the one that never consults the heart — had other plans.

I removed the jewelry piece by piece. The sound of glassy bangles hitting the sink felt like small funerals of the life I thought I would live. I looked into the mirror and did not see a bride. I saw a woman caught in a storm she had not chosen.

I whispered, “Aarav, you don’t even know the truth…”

But what was the point? He had built walls in his heart, walls of anger and humiliation. His mind had decided a story and would not let facts enter.

I opened the washroom door, and the wilted roses on the dressing table looked like a mockery. Petals that had once symbolized new beginnings now marked an end. I remembered the first rose he had given me in college — he had pretended it was for someone else but his eyes had laughed. I teased him then; he had said, “One day you’ll take these seriously.” I had smiled, naive and young.

Now the same flowers lay between us, but they were not for the future. They were for a marriage that had happened to both of us, in the most horrific way.

Everything outside seemed to carry on — the hum of the city, the distant horns, the life that never stops. But for me, the world had narrowed to one small room and the echo of Aarav’s footsteps walking away.

My mind flashed back to the mandap. Dev and Mine whereas Aarav and Naina’s marriage was meant to be the center of the day, two families celebrating their right match. Dev looked handsome and steady. Naina glowed in her bridal saree, her smile bright and real. I had felt happy for her, genuinely. The ceremony had been beautiful. And in that whirl of rituals and crackers of expectation, a chaos grew.

A chain of errors, whispers, and misplaced vows — someone took a wrong step, someone spoke too quickly, the priest misinterpreted a word, and in a flash Dev was bound to Naina and somehow, through a tangle no one could untie in that second, I was tied to Aarav.

The memory still made no sense. How does a planned wedding twist into such a catastrophe? I had tried to shout, to stop it, but the noise swallowed me. By the time anyone noticed, the knot was tied. Dev’s expression had been horror, Aarav’s had been confusion — then fury. The world fell silent around me.

Aarav, in front of everyone, had felt betrayed. Whether by me or by fate, he chose the person to blame. He singled me out in a way that was cruel and immediate.

I wanted to explain. I wanted to shout the truth and make them all understand. But the truth sounded like excuses in the middle of someone else’s happiness-turned-ruin. People were looking; the chatter slowed; eyes judged; whispers spread. My voice had no place in that storm.

I sank onto the couch now, staring at the jacket Aarav had thrown over the armchair, at a book with a leaf folded inside. Little things only he would notice were left behind like crumbs of a life we had been meant to share. I could almost see him smiling, teasing me with a line he loved. But that man was gone. All that remained was the empty shell of memories that stung.

How does love turn into hatred so quickly? Maybe trust breaks, and then love does not die — it only changes face. It becomes anger, pain, and accusations we hurl to cover the fact that we are hurting.

Aarav’s words echoed in my head: “Tum bahut pachtaugi.” “I’ll make your life a living hell.”

A part of me wanted to scream that I never wanted this. That I did not choose to be in his arms, that I had been as much a victim of that hour as he was. But how do you make someone who has decided to hate you understand the complexity of a single moment?

Night fell and the room dimmed to shadows. I sat by the window with my knees hugged tight, the city lights flickering like distant stars. Moonlight touched my fingers, cold and indifferent. Hands that had once fit into his like puzzle pieces now trembled in loneliness.

Maybe destiny is cruel with a strange sense of humor. It gives you everything you think you want — and then snatches it away at once, giving it to someone else, in the wrong way. It forces a life on you and calls it fate.

And yet, a stubborn corner of my heart still believed that maybe one day Aarav would stop hating long enough to hear me. That he would realise I had not betrayed him, that my heart had always belonged to someone else first — to honesty, to the truth. That despite everything, there was only ever a small place inside me reserved for him, if only he would see it without anger.

But for now, all I had was silence. And silence hurts more than any accusation.

I thought about Dev — my almost-husband who was now someone else’s man. I thought of Naina, who must be in shock and also guilty in small ways she did not deserve. I loved Dev in a way that was steady and quiet, a feeling of trust that grew from years of knowing. He had been chosen for me by careful hands. He had not deserved this chaos either.

The four of us — Dev, Naina, Aarav, and I — had become unwilling players in a drama not written by any of us. Dev’s calm had been shattered for a day. Naina’s bride-smile had turned fragile. Aarav’s anger had become a wall. And I — Rashika Mehta — was left to gather the pieces that fate had scattered.

The night did not bring rest. Every small sound — the creak of wood, the distant laugh of someone celebrating, a car horn — made my chest tighten. My mind replayed the mandap scene in a loop: the garlands, the words, the priest’s voice, the stunned faces, the tie, the knot. I could still feel the silk of the garland around my neck. I could still feel the weight of a reality I had not chosen.

I hugged my knees closer and whispered into the dark: “This is not how our story was supposed to end.”

Maybe it was not the end. Maybe it was the beginning of something worse, or something that might, with time and truth, heal. When love turns to hate, it does not stop. It opens a new door — a door to pain, regret, and sometimes, unexpected forgiveness. Or sometimes it just closes on people forever.

For now, I did not know which door would open for us. I only knew that the next day, we would have to face family, neighbours, questions, and the cold, practical world that expects answers. I would have to stand up, put a face on, and pretend as if I had not been crushed.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the window and watched the city breathe. Somewhere in that breath, I prayed for a sliver of mercy. For truth to show itself. For Aarav to see me not as a traitor but as the woman who had been caught in the wrong moment.

The night passed slowly. Dawn would bring responsibilities, sharp looks, and whispered commentary. But night kept my grief private for a few more hours. And in that darkness, I let myself feel every broken, small thing until the light forced me to collect myself and step back into the world.

This chapter of our lives had ended without meaning. But perhaps — though the thought felt fragile and foolish — maybe the next chapter could still be written, if not by fate, then by our choices. For now, mine was simple: survive the morning. Survive Aarav’s face. Survive the shame and confusion that had become our household’s new language.

Because when love turns into hate, it is not the last word. It is merely the start of a long story.

And mine had just begun.