Before she can answer, there’s a soft knock on the door.
Bhabhi-sa opens it slightly. Devraj bhai-sa steps in first, his expression carved from stone. Behind him, Dhruv follows, quiet as shadow.
“Sitara,” Devraj says, his voice lower now. “I wanted to tell you before the rest of the world does. Ayush’s family left the venue. They switched off their phones.”
For a moment, I can only stare. “Left?”
He nods once. “They’re gone.”
The words don’t make sense at first. How do people just… leave? Don’t they realize there’s a girl sitting here in red, waiting?
“I’ll issue a statement,” Devraj continues. “We’ll handle the press. No one will say a word that hurts you.”
He means it, I know he does. But words can’t protect me from pity. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a small sound that isn’t quite a sob.
Bhai-sa’s fists clench at his sides. He looks like he wants to destroy something. “If that man ever steps foot in Rajasthan again—”
“Bhai-sa,” I interrupt softly. “Please. Don’t make this worse.”
His jaw works, but he nods.
Dhruv hasn’t spoken a word. He’s standing a few steps away, watching me quietly. There’s no pity in his eyes—thank god. Just a kind of still concern that makes me want to cry harder.
Finally, Devraj bhai-sa turns to him. “I’ll make arrangements to clear the guests. We’ll end this quietly.”
As he speaks, Dhruv’s gaze doesn’t leave me.
It’s unnerving, how steady it is.
When Bhai-sa turns toward the door, Dhruv finally says, “Wait.”
The room stills.
His voice isn’t loud, but it carries—firm, certain, absolute.
He walks closer, stopping just a few feet away from me. “Devraj,” he says, and then his eyes shift to me. “Sitara.”
Something in the way he says my name makes my throat tighten.
“I know this isn’t the time for speeches,” he continues quietly, “but if you let this day end like this, it’ll haunt you. Every wedding you attend, every picture you see—it’ll come back to this moment.”
I blink, confused. “What are you saying?”
He breathes out slowly. “I’m saying I don’t want this to be the memory you carry.”
Then his gaze meets mine fully—unflinching, open, heartbreakingly sincere.
“I’ll marry you.”
The room goes completely silent.
Meher Bhabhi-sa gasps softly. Poorvi covers her mouth. Bhai-sa just stares at him, as if he didn’t hear right.
But I heard. Every syllable.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
I blink, my heart stuttering. "You—what?"
