The world is always unkind to women, even when they are selfless—and if they find out she was abandoned by a man? The world will think of her as worthless. I cannot let her believe that.
Devraj’s gaze sharpens. “You think marrying her fixes that?”
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “But walking away would’ve shattered her.”
Vihaan exhales slowly through his nose. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
I glance at him. “I’m very sure of her.”
That earns me a look—one I don’t miss. Not approval. Not yet. But interest.
Devraj steps closer.
He’s taller than me by an inch or two, broader in presence if not in build. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.
“You’ve known my sister for four years,” he says. “You joke with her. You banter. You’ve always kept your distance.”
I nod again. “Intentionally.”
“Why now?” Veeraj demands. “Why step into her life like this now?”
I take a breath—not because I’m unsure, but because this part matters.
“Because,” I say slowly, “she doesn’t see herself the way you do.”
Silence.
“She jokes to survive,” I continue. “She talks to fill spaces where she feels she doesn’t belong. She laughs first so no one else can laugh at her. And today—today she stood there believing she was replaceable.”
Devraj’s jaw tightens.
I don’t soften my words. This isn’t the time.
“She wasn’t crying because the groom didn’t show up,” I say. “She was crying because she thought it confirmed everything she already fears about herself.”
Veeraj looks away first. Vihaan straightens slightly. Devraj stays where he is, eyes burning.
“And you think you can fix that?” he asks.
I don’t answer immediately.
Then, quietly, “No. But I can make sure I never become another reason she believes it.”
That lands.
Devraj studies my face like he’s searching for cracks. For bravado. For lies. He doesn’t find them.
“You understand what this means,” he says. “She’s not just a woman you married on impulse. She’s my sister.”
“I know.”
“She’s sensitive.”
“I know.”
“She overthinks.”
“I know.”
