Page 62 of Since the Night We Met
This anklet is a reminder of that night which still makes me smile every day. It reminds me of how alive and carefree you were when you weren’t pretending to hate me. You left it with me, and I held it close to my heart every time I missed you. I wasn’t going to show you this until you forgave me, but our kiss last night gave me hope. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since, and I hope you thought of me at least once.
But I also know that you’re not where I am, and that’s okay. You can decide the meaning of the mangalsutra I will puton you today in your own time. Whether it becomes real for you today, tomorrow, or never at all, I’ll wait for it to happen, and I’ll wait for you. But this anklet? It already belongs to you, belongs to us, and belongs to a night when I fell head over heels for you.
So, I’m giving it back to you. I hope you hold onto it, as a piece of something real between us, and I’ll hold onto the hope that someday, I’ll get to put it on you again.
I can’t wait to see you as my bride.
– Abhay
She brushed her finger over the curve of one tiny seashell. Her gaze got stuck on the deep stain of her mehendi and the wordsAbhay ki jaanhe’d written there yesterday during the mehendi ceremony.
Alone in the room with no one to witness it, she could admit that she hadn’t stopped thinking about the kiss either. She hated how her father’s manipulations, Kashvi’s safety, the burden of duty, and her complicated situation with Abhay were all tangled now.
But that kiss… it had felt like their moment in the midst of the live entertainment show her father was hellbent on making her wedding. Much like this anklet resting on her palm, it had belonged to them before anyone else got involved.
Her lehenga had a pocket sewn into the side, a small hidden one just under the folds of embroidery. Siya slipped the anklet into the pocket slowly, and pressed it flat against her hip. In the chaos later on, she could hold on to it like an anchor in a storm, and that settled her nerves a little.
There was a soft knock against the doorframe to remind her that it was time. Siya let out a slow breath, trying to steady the sudden jitters in her chest. She stood up and adjusted the edge of her veil so that it draped cleanly over her shoulder, careful not to tug on the pins holding the dupatta.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked through the corridor, and down the stairs. When the staff pushed the double doors open, the muted thrum of classical music playing on strings reached her. She paused at the threshold, taking a moment to adjust to the scene in front of her.
The space in the living room of Abhay’s massive penthouse had been cleared entirely. The furniture was replaced by plush rugs and low cushions in subtle shades of cream and beige.
The mandap stood at the centre of the room, its beams wrapped with twisted strands of orchids and white roses. Candles flickered in glass bowls all around the base, and delicate strings of fairy lights lined the window frames, glowing gently against the soft evening sky beyond the glass. The understated beauty of it all stole her breath.
Then she found him, and her heart skipped a beat.
Abhay stood beneath the mandap, watching her with a misty smile, like he hadn’t quite believed she’d appear. He wore an ivory sherwani, exquisitely tailored with gold threadwork, with a muted gold stole slung neatly over his shoulder, worked over with contrasting red threads and beads. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d run a hand through it minutes before.
When he met her gaze, pretending to faint at the sight of her, Siya couldn’t remember what being angry at him felt like. She was suddenly aware of how long the last two days had felt since she’d last seen him. He was a sight for her sore eyes.
As she began to walk toward him, and the space between them narrowed with each step, he didn’t take his eyes off her even once. When she reached the end of the aisle, he stepped down without hesitation and extended his hand.
She slid her hand into his, and he tucked it under gently as he helped her step onto the raised platform of the mandap with care.
‘Hey,’ Abhay said softly.
‘Hi,’ she repeated, surprised by how calm she sounded. The swarm of butterflies in her stomach said otherwise.
‘Are you okay?’ His eyes searched hers in a way that always made it harder to hold her walls up.
‘I think so,’ she answered, honestly. ‘You look…’
His brows lifted, almost amused. ‘Acceptable?’
‘Almost,’ she muttered.
‘Well, you look like my favourite dream come true,’ he whispered, only for her.
‘Bride and groom, please step forward for the jaimala ritual.’
They faced each other as the priest chanted, seated on the other side of the mandap, as the Sanskrit verses rolled off his tongue with practised ease. Kashvi came and stood at her side, as Raghav stepped toward Abhay, holding the varmala.
Kashvi handed it to Siya, and brushed her arm once in a fleeting touch of reassurance. The garland was made of white and red roses with pearly strands holding it together, and felt heavy in her grip.
Raghav handed the garland in his hand over to Abhay and patted on his back as they exchanged smiles.
As the priest began chanting again, Abhay bowed his head and Siya put the garland around his neck. It slid down and settled against his chest, the contrast of it highlighting the delicate threadwork at his collar.
