The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow windows of the chawl, painting streaks across the cracked walls. Pranati stirred beneath her thin blanket, lips parting in a soft gasp.
In her dream, she walked through a garden unlike any she had ever seen. Flowers of every shade—crimson, gold, violet—floated in the air, drifting lazily around her as if carried by invisible wings. She reached out, laughing softly as petals brushed against her fingers.
But the serenity didn't last.
Without warning, the flowers ignited, flames leaping skyward with a crackling roar that seemed to devour the garden. The air turned thick with smoke and heat. Heart pounding, Pranati stumbled backward.
From the blaze, a figure emerged. Hooded. Silent. Imposing. It moved toward her with an almost unnatural certainty. In one swift motion, it pressed vermillion onto her forehead. The mark burned—not physically, but deep inside her chest, a jolt of something both familiar and terrifying.
Pranati's eyes flew open. Her chest heaved, her hands clutching the blanket as though it could hold her steady. Sweat glistened on her forehead, and her hair stuck damp to her face.
For a moment, she lay there, frozen, staring at the ceiling as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. The vividness of the dream lingered, a shadow of both awe and dread.
"I… what was that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The quiet morning pressed in around her, but the feeling of the hooded figure—the vermillion mark—refused to fade.
---
Pranati sat up in her bed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her heart still raced, and her hands trembled slightly. She looked around the small room, half-expecting the shadows to move or the hooded figure to appear again.
"Strange," she murmured to herself, voice low and thoughtful. "For the first time… I dreamt about getting married… but it was a nightmare."
She hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the morning light spilling through the window. The memory of the vermillion mark burned in her mind, and a shiver ran down her spine.
"What… what does it mean?" she whispered, almost afraid of the answer. "Am I… going to be part of something I don't understand?"
The quiet of the chawl felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Outside, the sounds of the waking city crept in—the distant calls of street vendors, the clatter of footsteps—but inside her room, Pranati felt suspended between dread and curiosity, caught in the echo of a dream she couldn't shake.
Pranati took a deep breath, letting the tension in her chest ease slightly. She shook her head, as if shaking off the remnants of the nightmare.
"No," she said softly, a small smile forming on her lips. "This… this is a new beginning. I can't let fear decide my life."
She swung her legs off the bed, planting her feet firmly on the floor. The morning sunlight kissed her face, and for a moment, the room felt warm, safe, almost ordinary.
"I need to be positive," she whispered to herself, adjusting her dupatta and smoothing her lehenga. "No matter what happens, I face it with my head held high. This is my life… my choices."
With renewed determination, Pranati stepped toward the door, ready to embrace the day, unaware that the echoes of her dream had already started weaving into the threads of the world outside.
Meanwhile, at the villa, the morning light streamed through the tall windows, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. The family had gathered in the living room, drawn by the sound of Bani Dadi's voice, firm and serene.
She stood near the mandir, her hands folded, a quiet certainty in her posture. Vedshree, Suman, Vanraj, Sanjeev, and the brothers had all come downstairs, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
"I have spoken to the priest," Bani Dadi announced, her voice clear and steady in the hushed room. "After consulting the stars and the auspicious timing, he has confirmed that Ruby and Arnav can be married in the next three days."
A ripple of emotion passed through the room. Vedshree's hand flew to her chest, her eyes filling with immediate, overwhelming relief. Suman broke into a wide, tearful smile, reaching for Vedshree's hand and squeezing it tightly.
"Three days?" Vedshree whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So soon?"
"It is the most auspicious window," Bani Dadi replied gently, her gaze soft. "The alignment is favorable. We should not delay."
A wave of happiness seemed to break over the room. Sanjeev clapped Vanraj on the back. Suman immediately began instructing the staff to bring sweets. A silver tray laden with laddoos and barfi was brought out, and laughter soon mingled with the clinking of plates.
Ranav and Arav exchanged a glance—a look that held both happiness for their brother and a flicker of something unspoken, something unresolved. They joined in, accepting the sweets, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes.
Arnav stood slightly apart, his expression composed, unreadable. He accepted a laddu from the tray offered to him, his fingers closing around the sweet without enthusiasm. His gaze drifted toward the window, toward the world outside the villa walls, as the celebratory chatter swirled around him.
Sweets were shared, blessings were exchanged, and the villa buzzed with the sudden, urgent energy of a wedding now hurtling toward them.
But in the midst of the sweetness and light, a quiet tension hummed beneath the surface, unseen and waiting.