A raging sting burned my cheeks, "Shravan Chauhan suicided." Father barked out his words, nose scrunching in rancour as the door slammed behind him, against the dusty beige walls. "He unalived himself - the wedding is just around the corner and the groom is no longer breathing."

A series of rushed footsteps slowed as mother's frustrated figure came into view. "Keep it down, will you? What if the servants hear?"

"Let them. People will know sooner or later. I don't understand where I went wrong in raising you, Srishti?" He rubbed a palm over his face before charging at me with a raised hand to strike.

Flinching, I backed two steps. Unalived? Shravan? The dull sting from Father's slap suddenly scorched again, this time blurring the edges of my vision. "Isn't this what you wanted? Tell me Srishti, do I congratulate you? Tell you how dearly you failed my expectations again? Why did I raise you? You fail me each and every single time i decide to put my faith in you and now you couldn't even seduce a man to get over a fucking wedding?"

A vase near my vanity came knocking down to the floor, the edges of its porcelain ripping. What are they saying? I don't understand anything. I'm so confused. Everything was fine then what went wrong? "So the wedding is...cancelled?" Mother's voice faltered, she didn't care if I hurt myself over the chipped pieces of porcelain. "Wedding? What Wedding? The one with a dead groom?" My father joked harshly.

"...but this isn't possible." I finally manage to crack my voice, gather my courage and shove away the confusion for once since father stormed inside my room. "Shravan...he...he agreed to the marriage. We both talked. We're engaged." I finally tugged my chin up, looking into his eyes with defiance I've never shown. I will not accept any nonsense people throw at me. Not even my father. Sharvan said he'd-

"So why did he kill himself?!" A muscle ticked in his jaw as he seethed at me. "Being angry at her wouldn't solve this. We need to talk to them." Mother insisted, coming up to me she grabbed my arm to drag me near her. "You didn't get any scratches did you?"

I shake my head. Mother brushed a light thumb over the bruise appearing slightly on my skin.

"Who do we talk to? Tarang has just risen to market, this type of scandal would not only affect the sales but we will be frowned upon by the elite circle as someone whose daughter was so undesirable that the groom killed himself a week before the wedding."

"An ice pack will soothe the swelling." She muttered, brows knitting in a frown as she turned to face Father's distraught. "Chauhans. We need to talk to them. Nothing of that sort will occur, we have the upper hand."

"What upper hand? The Chauhans are not to be messed with. They will twist the truth to their favour." He walked up to the study desk pulling the wooden chair as he lowered himself on the seat. "Any negotiations will end before they even start."

"There's no need for negotiation. We just need a better option. You are right, they are not to be messed with but we aren't messing with them. We will just guide them, show them ways to cushion the casualties- in our favour that is."

"How?"

"I'm sure annulment of the wedding will raise a foible, of course they need not to pay any attention to it, still thinking of Chauhans in their fashion they wouldn't want a single blemish to tarnish their prominence, would they?"

"...No. But how would that cushion the casualties of a broken wedding in our favour?"

"That is, if we have no broken wedding to deal with in the first place." She implied, some strands of her braided bun fell loose over her shoulders. Father's brows crossed, he paused the shaking of his legs and thought intently for a moment. "You mean..."

"Yes," Mother clasped my palm in hers, "Our Srishti is still capable, educated and beautiful. They were the ones to ask for her hand, so if we pitch - carefully enough - the wedding will still be on board."

"But who will replace the groom?"

"Sushant Chauhan's youngest. I hear he's back in the country, a recent graduate from the Oxford University, BA in PPE."

Silence draped over the heavy tension for the next few minutes before father stood up from my wooden chair and nodded his head with a little hesitation. "I'll try prompting." Without a single glance at me he strided past the door to my room, his footsteps heavy in the marble floor as he descended down the stairs. "I'll have mita send you an ice pack. Make sure to not irritate your skin so much." She squeezed my hand before turning back to follow father out of my room.

None of them even asked if I wanted the wedding. If I was okay with it - when I've still not digested that the man with whom I finally steeled my heart to settle down was no more. What if all of this was nothing but a cruel joke? A misunderstanding? Maybe someone is trying to jest with us. Shravan...he was kind to me. Surely, he was a bit off during our engagement as if something weighed in his mind but he was polite to me during our first meeting. Shy, even to say. He told me that he'd respect me and we'd get to know each other before we take any big steps in our relationship. Then what went wrong between us - as for the man who made me feel less about the abrupt decision shoved on me but sew on dreams of love and our knotted future - to kill himself?

I let out a shuddering breath and sank to the hard floor. If Shravan is really out of the picture, the wedding will be off. And the taunts and sarcasms cast upon us will be unbearable to imagine. Tarang is doing good in the market, however if they - Chauhans bear hard feelings towards me or my family - it'd take no time to crush whatever two generations of Tyagis established and expanded into nothing but dust people trample on.

Oh how foolish I was to believe that I had a happy future lying ahead of me, one with my betrothed, with whom I wouldn't have to prove my worth again and again. With whom life won't be so difficult. With Shravan...

And oh how foolish I still am to want to wish all of this just to be nothing but a cruel nightmare. To wish whoever they plan to shove me to refuse and i wouldn't be stumbling upon a family with my hands chained who have nothing but scorn for me to share.

Sushant Chauhan's youngest...i don't even know his name. Please...please let this be a vague dream. Let me wake up with cold sweat on my forehead and blink away my tears back to caress the name of my betrothed on my mehendi.

Shravan.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Two knocks on my door caused me to look up - Mita stood by my door with an ice pack in one hand and a dust pan with a broom in another. The broken porcelain pieces were still on the floor. And even though I didn't step on them, the view of them was enough for me to bleed through the reminder of what I'm living in might be the reality.