Morning arrived like a beautifully crafted lie. The sunlight was soft, the breeze was calm, and the distant sound of wedding music floated through the Singh mansion like a promise of peace. Everything looked perfect—if you didn't look too closely. But beneath the silk and the marigolds, hearts were beating louder than the drums, echoing the silent tremors of a life about to change forever.
Avni Sinha sat before her vanity, caught in a strange limbo. She was half-ready, draped in heavy silks, but her mind was elsewhere. Her jewelry lay untouched on the marble tabletop, and her reflection felt like a stranger she was only beginning to know.
A soft, hesitant knock broke the silence. Avyaan walked in, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a quiet, observant gravity.
"You're supposed to knock before entering," Avni said, her voice steady but distant.
"I did," Avyaan replied, stepping into the room. "You were just... lost in yourself."
She paused, then slowly turned to face him. "What is it, Avyaan?"
He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. "Truthfully? Are you okay?"
It wasn't the usual teasing of a younger brother. It was the raw concern of someone who had watched her carry the weight of their family for years.
"I'm fine," Avni said, a soft exhale escaping her.
"Liar," he countered instantly.
Avni stood up, smoothing the front of her lehenga. She walked toward him, her chin tilted up. "I'm not afraid, if that's what you're asking."
"I didn't ask if you were afraid," Avyaan said pointedly.
That landed. Avni looked at him for a long moment before finally letting the guard down, just a fraction. "It’s just... weird. The situation. The people."
"The people?" Avyaan studied her. "They don't matter."
"I know that," Avni said. "But... what if they matter to him?"
Avyaan gave her a small, knowing smile. "Then you'll just have to make him understand, won't you?"
"Why do I always have to be the one to make people understand?"
"Because you've always been the one in charge," Avyaan said softly. He looked at her—really looked at her—and the teasing disappeared. "Just be happy, Di. Please."
Avni didn't reply. Instead, she pulled him into a tight, fierce hug. It was short, but it said everything they hadn't put into words since the day their parents died. In that moment, she wasn't the CEO; she was just a sister finding her anchor.
Downstairs in the garden, Divyansh Singh stood alone. Scooby ran circles around his feet, his tail a frantic blur of gold, but for once, Divyansh wasn't playing.
His mother’s words from earlier that morning were a persistent hum in his mind: “She would have suited Vivek better.”
He clenched his jaw, not in anger, but in a quiet, simmering frustration. Vivek was the gold standard—polished, predictable, perfect. Divyansh was the variable, the code that didn't always compile on the first try. He looked at the house, feeling the weight of the suit he was wearing. What if she thinks so, too?
The peace was short-lived. Divyansh was summoned to the terrace by the "Chaos Squad"—Rishabh Malhotra, Aditya Rajput, and a handful of cousins who looked entirely too gleeful.
"I don't like the look on your faces," Divyansh muttered as he walked in.
"Perfect," Rishabh grinned, leaning forward like a detective in a noir film. "That’s exactly why we called you here. Sit."
Divyansh sat, regretting it immediately.
"So, Groom," Rishabh began, his eyes narrowing. "Let’s talk stats. What’s the experience level here?"
Divyansh stood up to leave. "I'm out."
"Sit down and answer the question," a cousin barked, laughing.
Divyansh slumped back into the chair, his face heating up. "NONE. Are you happy now? I’ve been busy building a company, not a dating profile."
The terrace exploded into a roar of laughter.
"Honesty! I love it!" Rishabh cheered. "But bhabhi? Man, she’s in for a surprise."
"I am going to perform your last rites myself," Divyansh threatened.
"Relax," Aditya said, his tone calmer but no less teasing. "Think of this as a training session. Rule number one: No overconfidence. You aren't in a Bollywood movie."
"Rule number two," a cousin added, "don't try to Google things at the last second. It never ends well."
"And Rule number three," Rishabh said, pointing at Divyansh’s face. "Use the dimples strategically. They are your only weapon."
"What are dimples going to do?!"
"Everything," they shouted in unison.
"Bhai, she’s already flat for your dimples," Rishabh said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have you seen the way she looks at you when you smile?"
Divyansh froze, his heart doing a strange, frantic flip. "Shut up."
Aditya’s expression softened as he leaned in. "Look, it’s going to be awkward. That’s the truth. Don't expect violins in the background. It’s just going to be the two of you and a lot of silence. Just don't overthink it."
"Great. Thanks for the confidence boost," Divyansh grumbled, standing up to leave.
"Hey!" Rishabh shouted after him. "Just don't fall off the bed!"
"RISHABH"
Divyansh retreated to the garden, but he wasn't alone for long. Avni found him in the same spot, looking like a man trying to solve a problem that didn't have a solution.
"You keep disappearing," she said, coming to a halt beside him.
"Habit," he replied.
"What’s wrong?"
He hesitated, then the truth slipped out—raw and unfiltered. "My mother thinks you’d be better off with my brother. That you’d suit him more."
The silence that followed was sharp. Avni didn't move. "And what do you think?"
He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. "I... I don't know."
Avni stepped closer. She didn't offer him a soft word or a comforting hug. Instead, she offered him her strength. "Then figure it out, Divyansh. Because I didn't say yes to a man who doubts himself every time someone mentions his brother."
"I'm not doubting you—"
"You are," she cut in, her voice steady and direct. "You think I don't see the difference between the two of you? I do. And I still chose you."
The air between them seemed to vibrate.
"Why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Because you're real," she said, her expression softening just a fraction. "You aren't a rehearsed speech or a perfect resume. You're just you. And I don't want 'perfect.' I’ve spent my whole life being perfect. I'm tired of it."
She took a small step closer, her hand grazing his arm. "So stop comparing yourself to a ghost of a version of me that doesn't exist. I want you."
Something inside Divyansh finally settled. The noise of his mother’s voice, the laughter of his friends—it all went quiet.
"ROMANCE!" Rishabh’s voice shattered the moment as the squad reappeared from behind the shrubbery.
Avni stepped back instantly, her face flushed.
"We were just checking if the groom was mentally ready," a cousin laughed. "Physically, he still looks like he might faint."
"OUT. ALL OF YOU," Divyansh roared, though he couldn't hide the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't forget the dimples!" Rishabh shouted as they retreated, their laughter echoing through the garden.
Silence returned, but it was different now. Comfortable.
"Sorry about them," Divyansh muttered.
"Stop apologizing," Avni said, though she was hiding a smile of her own.
He looked at her, the uncertainty finally replaced by something solid. "You're sure? About this? With me?"
She didn't hesitate. She didn't look for a script.
"Yes."
Sometimes, love doesn't need to silence the doubts. It just needs to be louder than them. And today, as the sun climbed higher and the wedding ceremony drew near, that was more than enough.
Because between the roles they played for the world and the truth they found in the garden, the choice had already been made.
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