VK walked in, followed closely by Rajat. Mishti gently nudged Avni, reminding her of the ritual to touch VK’s feet. He was going to be her father-in-law now. And Avni obeyed immediately, smiling as she took his blessings.
VK laughed warmly, blessing her while Rajat couldn’t help tease his fiancée.
“Sanskari, Avni!” he teased. “Looks like Mishti is training you well.”
Avni straightened and shot back playfully, “You should hear about the other stuff she has taught me. No kissing and touching till the actual wedding.”
VK hid his smile while Rajat looked horrified at that thought.
“No way,” he said, looking at Mishti first, then back to Avni and raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m already scared now,” he said, grinning. “Two women against me before the wedding even starts?”
VK chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. Mishti watched them with her heart full. She quickly rubbed the kohl from her own eyes and dabbed a small smudge behind Avni’s ear.
Avni frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure,” Mishti said softly, “that you and Rajat always live like this. In love.”
Rajat smiled at her, in gratitude, but Mishti didn’t respond. She was still holding onto a quiet hurt. Rajat and Abhimanyu had once been the two men she trusted the most, almost family. They had known all along that Karan knew where she was, and stayed silent.
That betrayal hadn’t faded yet. That was when Karan and Abhimanyu walked in. The moment Karan stepped inside, his eyes went straight to Mishti. The admiration returned instantly. Ever since she had shopped for all the traditional outfits for the wedding-related events, he had been seeing her in a different light. Today, she was dressed in a pastel pink lehenga. Her hairwas left loose over her shoulders, soft curls resting at the ends. Minimal makeup, delicate jewellery. Nothing excessive, but as always, he found himself unable to look away.
Abhimanyu cleared his throat deliberately. “Bhai… Avni can notice your interest in her friend.”
Karan exhaled quietly and forced his gaze away, turning instead toward VK.
“Karan,” VK said, looking at him, almost casually. “There’s a small ritual you’ll need to do. It’s a family custom. The bride’s brother ties the sacred thread on her right wrist before the main ceremonies. It’s a blessing. A promise of protection.”
Karan froze. Before he could react, Avni spoke angrily. “No, Papa. That’s not happening.”
VK frowned. “But Avni, it’s a custom.”
“Then let’s skip this one,” she said firmly. “I don’t want him participating in anything related to my wedding as my brother.”
Her words landed hard. Karan felt it, even if he didn’t show it. But he chose to stay silent.
VK tried again. “You can’t skip customs like this. It’s your wedding, Avni.”
“I know,” she replied, nodding. “But I don’t like him. In fact, him being here and attending my wedding itself is already a lot for me to tolerate. And now you want me to let him perform rituals as my brother in my marriage? No way. He has no rights.”
Mishti didn’t like the way Avni spoke about Karan. She wanted to tell Avni to stop. The truth burned at her lips. To tell her that the story was not what she believed it to be. That Karan was not the villain she thought he was. But she stayed quiet and let VK handle it.
Before VK could say anything more, Karan stepped in himself.
“It’s okay, Uncle,” he said calmly. “If she doesn’t want me to participate, I won’t. Let’s not trouble the bride.”
Avni frowned and turned away, clearly done with the discussion. But this time, Mishti did not stay quiet.
She stepped in, looking at Karan. “You or Avni don’t get to overrule rituals like this.”
Both Karan and Avni looked at her, a bit surprised.
“What do you think a marriage is?” she continued, in anger. “It’s not a joke. It’s sacred. Every ritual has meaning. Every custom that’s fulfilled becomes a blessing for the bride and groom.”
She turned to Avni, unable to hold back anymore. “And what’s the point of having this wedding here, in our cultural way, if you want to skip rituals as and when you like?”
Karan watched her, surprised by how fiercely she was fighting for this. He hadn’t expected anything less from her either. Mishti had always been like this. Rooted in tradition, guided by values, someone who followed the unspoken rulebook of culture and faith.
But this felt like more than just tradition. It felt as though she was stepping into the role of his wife again, standing up for what was right.Standing up for him.
