“He picked this for you years ago,” she says, her voice breaking. “He always said that the day you get engaged, he wants his ring right next to your engagement ring—to see the happiness in your eyes when you wear it and to remind you that you’ve got two men in your life who’ll always have your back.”
A sob escapes my lips before I can stop it. My fingers tremble as I reach for the ring, tracing its edges with reverence.
“He really chose this?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Mom nods, her tears finally spilling over. “He did. And even though he’s not here today, I believe he’s watching with a smile, giving his blessing.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I clutch the ring in my palm, pressing it against my heart. “I miss him so much, Mom.”
Mom pulls me into her arms, holding me the way she did when I was little—when the world felt too big, too uncertain. “I miss him too,” she murmurs against my hair. “But he’s here, sweetheart. In this moment, in this ring, in our hearts. Always.”
I close my eyes, letting myself sink into her embrace, letting the warmth of her love soothe the ache of my father’s absence. And for a moment, in the quietness of our grief and love, I feel him. I feel him with us, watching, blessing, smiling—just as Mom said.
A sudden chime of the doorbell shatters the quiet moment. Mom and I pull back as she stands, brushing away her tears. “I’ll get it,” she says, but I rise to my feet and follow her.
As we reach the door, Mom pulls it open and a group of uniformed men step inside, pushing in racks of luxurious outfits and trays glistening with exquisite jewellery. Mom and I exchange a look, surprise and curiosity flickering in our eyes.
“Excuse me,” Mom says, her voice filled with confusion. “What is all this?”
One of the men bows slightly. “We were instructed to deliver these.”
“By whom?” I ask, frowning. “I didn’t order anything.”
The man simply nods. “We’re just doing our job, ma’am.”
I open my mouth to question further when a familiar, poised voice cuts through.
“That will be all.”
Aditya’s mom steps inside, her elegant white saree draping perfectly over her frame. With a single glance, she dismisses the men, who bow and swiftly exit the room.
Mom and I exchange bewildered glances as we look at her.
“Samdhanji…” Mom begins, her voice cautious but kind. “What is all this?”
“Preparations, of course,” she says smoothly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know what’s truly appropriate for a girl entering a family like ours, so I thought I’d take care of it.”
Mom joins her hands, her tone measured but firm. “That’s very generous of you, but we never asked for any of this.”
“Like mother like daughter,” Aditya’s mom smirks, her voice dripping with disdain. “Whether asked or not, I have no intention of being embarrassed in front of our guests just because your daughter doesn’t meet our standards.”
I feel my mom stiffen beside me, but she remains calm. I take a deep breath, willing myself to do the same.
“Aunty, you didn’t notice, but I’m already dressed. Still, I appreciate your concern,” I reply, my voice even.
She eyes my peach salwar, scanning me from head to toe before letting out a dismissive sigh. “Of course, you’d choose something cheap like this.”
Then, she turns to my mother, her voice dripping with contempt. “This is how you play the game—act simple and modest, win the sympathy, and then marry into wealth.”
I clench my jaw, refusing to let her words get to me. “Aunty, how many times do I have to say it? I’m not marrying Aditya for his money.”
She raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug smirk. “No matter how many times you say it, I refuse to buy it. I know you’re far from innocent, and sooner or later, my son will see who you really are. And when that happens, I’ll be the one happy to see him finally kick you out of his life.”
Mom steps forward then. “All your assumptions about my daughter are baseless. Money has never been her motive. She is independent, capable, and more than able to stand on her own.”
Aditya’s mom scoffs, crossing her arms. “Yeah, right. Look, I’m not here to argue. I’m here to make it clear that in our family, we have certain standard to uphold, and you can’t just show up dressed like this.” She waves a hand toward the lavish outfits, her tone leaving no room for debate. “Now, pick something appropriate as per our status and get ready for the engagement. We don’t have all day.”
I inhale sharply. I refuse to let her dictate me. I take a step forward, my voice steady but resolute. “I’ll wear what I want and walk into that engagement with confidence, because I know my worth isn’t defined by what I wear. And as for your guests, I don’t mean to be rude, Aunty, but only the shallow judge someone based on their clothes. And I don’t waste my energy on people like that. Something you should learn to do too.”
