The courtyard was buzzing with the sounds of laughter, but Tanya felt oddly detached. She sat on a low stool in the center, her hands resting limply in her lap as the haldi ceremony swirled around her. Women draped in bright yellow sarees hovered near, carrying bowls of turmeric paste, smiling, whispering, and occasionally throwing a glance her way. Their excitement, their joy—it felt alien to her.

This is my haldi, she thought. But it didn’t feel like hers.

The cool paste touched her skin, and she shivered slightly. Her eyes closed as Avyaan’s mother lovingly smeared the turmeric on her face. The older woman’s touch was gentle, almost motherly, as though she were offering Tanya something more than just a tradition. Maybe she was. 

Still, Tanya’s heart remained distant. The weight of everything hung in the air, a tension she couldn’t shake. She was living someone else's dream, she was sure of it. This wasn’t how she imagined her wedding, her life—nothing about this felt real. The turmeric was supposed to bring good luck, they said, to bless the bride with happiness and love. But what kind of love? She opened her eyes and saw Avyaan standing near the entrance. His intense gaze met hers, and for a moment, the world quieted.

Avyaan. The man who had taken responsibility for her. The man who had declared her as his fiancée while she was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The ring still sat heavy on her finger, a reminder of everything that had changed. She felt a knot tighten in her chest. She didn’t hate him—she couldn’t. He had saved her in more ways than one. But she didn’t know what she felt anymore. She didn’t know if she could ever love him the way he needed, the way he seemed to care for her.

The women giggled as they applied more turmeric to her arms, her legs, her feet. Each touch felt like a chain tightening around her, binding her to a life she hadn’t asked for. She glanced up again at Avyaan. He hadn’t moved, still watching her with that unreadable expression, like he was trying to find something in her that even she couldn’t see. She looked away quickly, blinking back the sting of tears. 

What was she supposed to feel right now? Happiness? Gratitude? Fear? All she felt was numb. This wasn’t a celebration for her—it was another step in a path that had been laid out without her say. She wondered if Avyaan knew how trapped she felt, if he understood the turmoil that brewed inside her. 

As the ceremony continued, Tanya let the women laugh and smear the yellow paste, but her thoughts remained far away. She knew she would marry Avyaan, but she didn’t know how to make peace with it. Not yet.

The laughter around her seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of her mind without really reaching her. Tanya’s body was there, but her soul felt distant, detached. The turmeric paste began to dry on her skin, a tight, uncomfortable reminder of the ceremony unfolding around her. The vibrant colors, the flowers, the music—it all seemed to be happening to someone else.

She glanced at Avyaan again. He was still there, standing at the edge of the gathering, speaking to someone in low tones. His eyes, though, would drift back to her every few seconds, as if he couldn’t let her out of his sight. She knew he cared for her—maybe even loved her in a way she couldn’t yet comprehend. But did he see the real her? The broken parts? The fear, the uncertainty? Or was he just in love with the idea of her, of saving her?

Her gaze shifted back to the women surrounding her. Avyaan’s mother, who had been nothing but kind since she moved into their home, was now preparing a garland of flowers. His sister, Aria sat by Tanya’s side, applying turmeric to her feet with a smile that almost seemed too bright. They were all trying, she knew that. They were trying to make her feel like part of their family, trying to ease her into this life. But none of them knew the war waging inside her.

Tanya forced a small smile as they laughed and teased her, commenting on how beautiful she looked with the glow of the turmeric on her skin. She wanted to feel beautiful, wanted to feel like a bride, but all she felt was the weight of her circumstances. She had never been one to cry in public, but in this moment, it took everything in her not to break down. 

The scent of marigolds filled the air, their bright yellow petals strewn across the courtyard, adding to the overwhelming sense of tradition and festivity. But all Tanya could think about was how her life had spiraled into something she no longer recognized. She was marrying a man who had become her protector, her anchor, but not by choice—by necessity.

The thought gnawed at her as she absentmindedly played with the ring on her finger. It was beautiful, of course—simple, elegant, a reflection of Avyaan’s taste. But every time she looked at it, she was reminded that this engagement wasn’t born of love but of duty. Avyaan had placed the ring on her finger while she was in the hospital, still unconscious, still unaware of the new path her life had taken.

She hadn’t had a say in any of it.

The sound of a soft voice pulled her from her thoughts. Avyaan’s mother was leaning down, asking if she was alright, her brow furrowed with concern. Tanya nodded quickly, offering another weak smile. “I’m fine, Maa” she said, her voice barely above a whisper still trying to pass a smile.

But she wasn’t fine. She was lost. 

As the ceremony dragged on, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. The turmeric felt dry and itchy on her skin, and she longed for this day to end, for the questions in her heart to quiet. Avyaan’s presence, looming just out of reach, both comforted and suffocated her at the same time.

Later, when the crowd began to disperse and the ceremony wound down, Tanya was finally left alone. She sat still on the stool, her legs crossed beneath her, the turmeric flaking off her arms. The noise had faded, but her thoughts were louder than ever. 

Avyaan approached her, his footsteps soft on the stone floor. She didn’t look up as he crouched beside her, his hand lightly touching her arm. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. They simply sat in the heavy silence, the weight of their unspoken words hanging between them.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low, careful. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, still staring at the ground. Hard didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I’ve already told you… we can take things slow. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was something else there too—something deeper. He was giving her time, giving her space, but she could see it in the way he looked at her. He wanted her to choose him, to want this life with him. But she couldn’t give him that yet. Not when she didn’t even know what she wanted herself.

Tanya nodded slightly, her throat tight. “I just… I need time.”

Avyaan exhaled softly, a mixture of relief and understanding in his expression. He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. “Of course,” he said, his voice gentle. “Take all the time you need.”

But time wasn’t the only thing she needed. She needed to find herself again, to figure out if she could truly be the woman Avyaan saw her as—the woman who could love him back.

As the evening breeze swept through the courtyard, Tanya followed Avyaan inside, her mind a storm of emotions she wasn’t ready to face. The haldi may have been over, but the real battle was just beginning.

———————•

TANYA

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the light turmeric stains on my skin, the faint scent of sandalwood still clinging to the air. The haldi ceremony had been earlier, and everyone was still downstairs, probably laughing and celebrating. It felt surreal, being at the center of something so festive, so bright, when I felt so empty inside. I kept staring at myself in the mirror, trying to recognize the girl staring back. 

A week. It’s only been a week since Avyaan told me we were getting married. He did ask for my consent. He checked if I was ready. He said very clearly that I shouldn’t burden my mind, but what can I do? I hadn’t questioned it at the time, too tired, too unsure of where I fit into everything. But now, sitting here, away from all the noise, the questions I’ve been avoiding are loud, echoing in my mind.

Why did he do it? Why did he declare me his fiancée without any feelings, without a second thought. I know he doesn’t love me. That much is clear. It’s not that he’s cruel—he’s never been cruel—but there’s no warmth in his eyes when he looks at me. He cares, I know that, but it’s distant, like I’m someone he needs to protect, not someone he’s in love with.

I feel the weight of his family’s love, and it’s overwhelming. His mother, so kind, so gentle, treats me like I’m her daughter already. I’ve never known a mother’s love quite like hers, and sometimes I wonder if that’s why it feels so foreign. She makes me feel like I belong, like I’m part of this family. She talks to me about Avyaan, tells me stories of him growing up, and tries to make me laugh. And I do, sometimes, but it’s not real laughter. It’s a reflex. 

And his father… he’s quiet, but I feel his care in every small gesture. He never says much, but he’s always there, making sure I’m comfortable, checking that I have everything I need. There’s something so reassuring about him, like nothing could go wrong when he’s around. It makes me feel guilty for doubting any of this, for feeling so lost.

His sister… She admires me. She looks at me like I’m someone strong, someone who’s survived. But I don’t feel strong. I feel fragile, like I could shatter at any moment. I’ve spent so long fighting my battles alone, but here, in this house, surrounded by people who care, it feels like I’m drowning in their love. They see me as strong, resilient, but I’m not. I’m just surviving.

I stand slowly, testing my legs. I can stand on my own now, which feels like an achievement, but it’s small compared to the storm swirling in my mind. A week ago, I could barely walk. Now I can take a few steps before needing to sit down again. It’s progress, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough.

And then there’s Avyaan. I can’t figure him out. I can’t understand why he’s doing this. Why he’s taken responsibility for me, why he’s declared me his fiancée when we both know he doesn’t feel anything beyond duty. Is it guilt? Is it some leftover bond from our college days, where things were easier, simpler? We were friends, close friends even, but this? This feels different, and I don’t know why he’s doing it.

I know we had a connection back then, something unspoken but strong. But that wasn't something on which he could be doing this, and life has pulled us in different directions. So why now? Why this? I’ve asked myself a hundred times, but I never get an answer.

Is it because of his brother, whom he loved. Maybe he is ashamed, maybe he is just trying to make it up for me. My mind is messed up, I can't think of anything straight. 

I sit back down on the bed, the exhaustion hitting me hard. My body is still weak, but my mind is worse, filled with questions that I don’t know how to ask. Every time I see Avyaan, I want to confront him, to ask him why he’s doing this, but the words never come. He’s always so calm, so steady, like nothing can shake him. But his calmness makes me feel cold, like I’m losing him before I even had him.

His family loves me, and I know I should feel lucky. I should feel grateful. But what about Avyaan? Does he care at all, or am I just a responsibility to him? Did he declare me his fiancée out of some misplaced sense of duty, or is there something deeper he’s not telling me?

I close my eyes and try to breathe, but the uncertainty is suffocating. Maybe one day I’ll get the answers I’m looking for. Maybe one day, I’ll understand why Avyaan has chosen to bind himself to me, even though I’m not sure either of us believes in this future together.

But for now, all I can do is wait. Wait for clarity, wait for the fog to lift, and hope that when it does, I’ll finally understand why this all feels like a beautiful dream laced with shadows.