Chapter 3

**The New Beginning**

A week after the engagement, the preparations for Ayesha’s wedding were in full swing. The house was a hive of activity, with relatives coming and going, the hum of sewing machines stitching bridal outfits, and endless phone calls coordinating everything from caterers to florists.

For Ayesha, it was a surreal experience. While her family seemed to revel in the chaos, she felt like a passenger in her own life, watching helplessly as it sped toward a destination she hadn’t chosen. The only reprieve she found was in the quiet moments she managed to steal away in her room, where she could write or simply sit in silence.

The wedding date loomed closer, and the reality of her new life began to sink in. Soon, she would leave the only home she had ever known and step into a world where she was uncertain of her place.

The bridal studio was a luxurious affair, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and soft golden lighting that cast an ethereal glow over the elaborate lehengas on display. Ayesha stood on a small platform, her reflection staring back at her as the tailor fussed over the final adjustments to her wedding dress.

The red and gold ensemble was exquisite, every inch of it covered in intricate embroidery and shimmering embellishments. It was the kind of outfit she had once admired in magazines, but now, wearing it felt heavy—not just in weight but in significance.

Her mother and aunts cooed with approval, their excitement palpable. “You look like a queen, Ayesha,” one of her aunts exclaimed.

Ayesha forced a smile. “Thank you.”

But her thoughts were elsewhere. She remembered her conversation with Arman on the balcony during the engagement. His words had stayed with her, offering a strange mix of comfort and confusion. He had promised to try, but what did that mean? Would he respect her, support her, or simply tolerate her presence?

The Wedding Day

The morning of the wedding arrived, bringing with it a flurry of activity and a sense of finality that weighed heavily on Ayesha’s chest. Her sisters and cousins surrounded her as she got ready, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

“Don’t look so serious, Didi,” her younger cousin teased, adjusting the intricate jewelry on Ayesha’s wrist. “You’re going to start a new chapter with such a handsome husband.”

Ayesha managed a faint smile, but inside, her nerves were fraying. Her hands trembled as the makeup artist applied the finishing touches, her reflection in the mirror looking almost unrecognizable. The bride staring back at her seemed like a stranger, adorned in layers of gold and crimson, her eyes lined with kohl, her lips painted in deep red.

When it was time to leave for the wedding venue, Ayesha’s father appeared in the doorway, his eyes softening as he took in her appearance. “You look beautiful, beta,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, Abba,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But trust me, you’ll find your place. You’re stronger than you think.”

Ayesha nodded, though his words did little to soothe her anxiety.

The wedding hall was a dazzling spectacle, decorated with cascading floral arrangements and golden drapes that shimmered under the lights. Hundreds of guests milled about, their colorful attire adding to the vibrant scene.

As Ayesha entered, her heart pounded in her chest. All eyes turned toward her, the weight of their gazes making her feel as though she were being scrutinized under a magnifying glass. She kept her focus forward, walking steadily to the stage where Arman stood waiting.

He looked impeccable in his cream sherwani, his expression calm and composed. When their eyes met, he offered her a slight nod, and she thought she saw a flicker of something—understanding, perhaps? Or was she imagining it?

The ceremony itself passed in a blur. The recitation of vows, the exchange of garlands, the blessings from elders—it all felt mechanical, like a play she was performing in without knowing the script.

When the time came for the final rituals, Ayesha felt a lump rise in her throat. The moment she had been dreading was here: the vidaai, the farewell to her family.

Her mother wept openly, clutching Ayesha tightly. “Be happy, beta,” she whispered. “This is your new home now.”

Ayesha nodded, unable to speak. Tears blurred her vision as she hugged her father, her siblings, and her cousins. By the time she climbed into the car with Arman, her heart felt as though it had been ripped in two.

The drive to Arman’s family home was quiet. Ayesha sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, the gold bangles on her wrists jingling softly with every bump in the road. Arman sat beside her, his gaze fixed out the window.

When they arrived, the house loomed before them like a fortress. It was grand and imposing, with tall gates and manicured gardens, but it felt cold, devoid of warmth.

Ayesha was greeted at the entrance by Arman’s mother, who performed the traditional welcoming rituals. Her expression was neutral, her smile polite but distant.

As Ayesha stepped into the house, she felt a wave of unease. The grandeur of the home only emphasized how out of place she felt.

After the ceremonies and the dinner, Ayesha was led to her new room. It was spacious and beautifully furnished, but it felt sterile, lacking the personal touches that made a space feel like home.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the embroidery on her dupatta as she tried to calm her nerves. The sound of the door opening startled her, and she looked up to see Arman entering.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to look so terrified,” he said finally, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

Ayesha blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not terrified,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the point. Instead, he crossed the room and sat in the armchair by the window. “I know this is... a lot,” he said, his tone softer now. “For both of us.”

Ayesha nodded, her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know what you expect from me,” she admitted quietly.

Arman sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t know either. But I meant what I said before—I’ll try to make this work. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

His words offered a small measure of reassurance, though they did little to ease her nerves. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He stood then, moving toward the door. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

As he left, Ayesha stared after him, her mind racing. The man she had married remained an enigma—guarded, distant, but not entirely unkind. Whether that would be enough to build a life together, she didn’t know.

For now, all she could do was take things one day at a time.

The silence of the room enveloped Ayesha as Arman left, the door clicking softly shut behind him. She looked around, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was beautiful—a four-poster bed adorned with silk sheets, a large wardrobe carved with intricate floral patterns, and a vanity table lined with silver accents. But to Ayesha, it felt cold, like a place meant to impress rather than comfort.

She ran her fingers over the embroidery of her wedding dupatta, the rich fabric feeling heavier now than it had earlier in the day. Her heart ached with longing for her own room back home, cluttered with books, drawings, and the simple familiarity of her life before all this.

Unable to bear the suffocating stillness, Ayesha got up and moved toward the window. She pulled the curtain aside, staring out at the sprawling garden bathed in moonlight. The tall hedges and perfectly arranged flower beds looked more like a display than a place to sit and relax.

Her mind wandered back to Arman’s words: “We’ll figure it out as we go.” There had been sincerity in his tone, but it wasn’t enough to erase her fears. What did “figuring it out” even mean in a marriage like theirs? Would it mean quiet compromise, or would she be forced to bury her own hopes entirely for the sake of peace?

Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She had cried enough today. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, and she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

With a deep breath, she turned away from the window and began to unpin her jewelry. The weight of the bangles and necklaces felt suffocating, and removing them was like shedding layers of pretense.

As she lay down on the unfamiliar bed, sleep didn’t come easily. Her mind swirled with doubts, fears, and the faintest glimmer of hope—hope that somehow, she would find her footing in this new, uncertain life.