1. Forced Marriage

The house garden is decorated beautifully with different types of flowers. It's filled with laughter and joy with dhol beats, many people and why not? It's the wedding of Chauhan's daughter – Avni, the best friend of Siya. Siya was looking after everything, after all it’s her best friend's wedding. It has to be perfect. The wedding was small, only limited people were invited from both the groom and bride’s side as they belong to a middle class family.

Siya, who lived in Delhi, had come to Mumbai to attend Avni’s wedding. They both have been best friends since they were in 10th grade. ( You might be thinking how ? so lemme clear the things — Avni and her parents used to reside in Delhi only, but for the last 2 years they are staying in Mumbai because of her father’s work transfer.)

Last week, she fled from Delhi to Mumbai and helped uncle and aunt a lot. Avni’s parents, however didn’t like her much. Despite this, Avni saw her as her bestfriend. The reason for the dislike was clear: Siya always seemed to outshine their daughter, whether in studies, sports or making friends, and even in competition. Avni’s parent couldn’t hide their jealousy. Avni herself sometimes felt a twinge of envy, but she never let it come between their friendship. Siya knew about their disapproval, yet she didn’t care. Her focus was only on one thing — making her best friend’s wedding perfect.

“Siya, Jaldi aao beta! Dekh phere suru hone wale hai”, aunty called her out, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and subtle pride — a reminder that her daughter was marrying into a respectable, well-off family, unlike her, who was still unmarried, busy managing every arrangement and attending the guests.(Siya, Come here quickly. See the pheres are going to start.) As soon as she heard she stepped towards the mandap with a basket full of flowers and handed them to the staff for showering it to them from top. And stood beside Mr. and Mrs. Chauhan, who had tears in their eyes. The panditji just told the bride and groom to stand up for pheras, but suddenly so many gun carrying men stepped out of the luxurious cars outside the garden. A 6’4 man , wearing black tailored suit, entered the venue with his guards. Everyone started gossiping who he is and why he has come here? Seeing guns in their hands, everyone present there was frightened.

But that stranger’s eyes were somewhere else — cold, unreadable, searching. As soon as his eyes fell on the girl standing near the mandap, he started walking that way.

“You are coming with me”, he said finally, his voice calm but sharp enough to slice through the noise. Siya blinked, pointed a finger towards her, “Main?” (Me?) “Yes, You”, he stepped closer towering over her. “You really don’t recognize me or are you just pretending?”

She raised a brow. “Should I? Kya mein aapke TV add mein aayi thi kabhi?” (Have i came in your TV add?) His jaw tightened, “You think this is a joke?” She shook her head in denial and answered, “No, But crashing someone’s shadi and scaring people to death? Yes, that’s pure comedy!”

His lips twitched — not like a smile but more like a warning. “You have got a sharp tongue, Miss …”. “Siya Trivedi”, she said before he could finish. “And I don't get scared easily”. He leaned closer, eyes darkening like a storm, “You should. Because you’ve made a mistake that you can’t afford”. She folded her arms. “Really? Because the only mistake I see here is you forgetting your manners at the door!”

This awakened the beast in him. He has come here just to take that girl without any chaos but the way she was back answering to him ignited his anger. Avni’s father stepped in, “What are you doing? And who are you all?” Why are you all ruining my daughter’s wedding? And why will Siya go with you?” He snapped his fingers and within minutes, his men surrounded the mandap, their presence like a dark shadow spreading across the floor. One of them aimed the gun directly at Mr. Chauhan.

Gasp. Screams erupted.

Siya’s heart pounded in her chest, but her voice didn’t trembled, “ Put that down! Ye shaadi hai, koi battlefield nahi!” (This is wedding , not some battlefield) His gaze locked on her. “This is a battlefield now, Miss Trivedi.” She took a step towards him, fury lightning in her eyes, refusing to back down, “You think guns make you powerful? You must be really insecure.”

He froze for a moment — may be out of surprise, may be disbelief — before his eyes darkened. “No one talks to me like that.” She retorted, “Maybe because everyone here is too busy shaking in their fancy shoes. Par main tumhare jaise gunde-mawali se nahi darti!”. (I’m not afraid of a thug like you! )

That hit something deep. His expression turned like ice. He stepped so close, she could see the pulse ticking in his jaw. “You’ll regret that”, he said quietly. “You will regret ever opening your mouth in front of me.” Siya fired back, “And you’ll regret thinking you can shut it.”

The crowd was terrified. Mrs Chauhan was so scared that she paralyzed at that place only. He snapped. The rage in his eyes ignited into something darker. Before anyone could react, he grabbed her wrist, turned to the stunned priest. “Pandit ji”, his voice thundered, “Shaadi shuru karo”. Everyone gasped. Siya froze, “Kya!? Have you lost your mind?!” But he didn’t answer. He simply gestured to his men, who moved the trembling groom and bride aside. “Sir”, Avni’s father stammered, “yeh — yeh zabardasti—”

“Chup!” His tone was enough to make the man stumble back. “This marriage will happen. Right now.” Siya’s voice rose, trembling with anger but firm. “You can’t force me—-”
“I can”, he said, eyes glinting. “And I will. Say yes or watch your father lose his life.” Siya looked at Mr. Chuahan. But she stayed firm, “Never and he is not my father…”. As soon as the word ”never” left her mouth, that man took the gun out from his hip, behind his tailored blazer. And shoot at Mr. Chauhan’s arm. Her breath hitched. She glanced at Avni’s terrified face, tears streaming down Mrs. Chauhan’s face, at the chaos, the tears, and the fear.

Her hands balled into fists. “Aapko lagta hai zindagi mein sab kuch zabardasti se milta hai?” (Do you think everything in life is obtained by force?) His stare didn’t waver. “In my world, YES!”

His POV:

I didn’t know why her attitude made my blood boil. I’d walked in prepared – to destroy, to punish, to make her pay by taking her with me without this chaos. But the way she met my gaze — unshaken, fearless – was enough to ignite something sharp inside me. And her audacity to tell me that I don't have manners and I'm a coward for carrying guns and the men around me.

She wasn’t supposed to look like this after what she had done. She was supposed to beg me. Fear me. Instead, she threw words at me like knives — witty, sharp, leaving invisible cuts, I couldn’t explain.

Everytime she said something, something inside me twisted. I wanted to break her spirit — not her body. I wanted her to know what it feels like to lose everything without understanding why. And so, before reasons could stop me, I did the only thing that could cage her forever.

“Pandit jii, mantra padhiye”, i ordered coldly. “Aaj se Siya Trivedi meri patni hai”. Her face turned white with disbelief, then flushed red with rage. “You’ll regret this”, she whispered, eyes glassy, voice trembling. I met her gaze, “No, Miss Trivedi. You will.”

Siya’s POV:

The sacred fire was burning infront me — almost cruel like mocking me. My hands trembled as the priest’s voice faded behind my tears. My heart pounded so loudly that it drowned every mantra, every whisper.

My friend, Avni stood frozen beside the groom, a gun pointed straight at them. “Don’t… please don’t do this,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “What wrong have I done with you? I don't even know you.. Why are you doing this with me? Please, I didn't do anything….” I keep ranting stuffs like this. But the man sitting beside me didn’t even look at me. His grip on my wrist tightened instead, forcing me to sit quietly beside him. My bangles clinked, cutting into my skin. But do I care? No, not with everything that was happening around me.

“Pandit, start the rituals,” he ordered coldly. “No!” I screamed, unable to hold anymore. I tried to get up, but his hold on my wrist didn’t let me. He just calmly said, “Do you want me to shoot this bride and groom as well?” And I froze. I just stared at him, tears now freely flowing from my eyes, “You can’t..” A sob escaped from my lips. “Now”, he said again turning towards the priest, and that poor trembling, feared soul started chanting.

Each pheras felt like a nail in my freedom.

Each vow sounded like a curse.

The sindoor burned when it touched my forehead. The mangalsutra felt like chains. When it was over, I didn’t cry. I just sat still like some statue, staring at the flames. When the priest announced, “Vivah sampann hua”, he turned to his men. “Take her.” (The wedding is complete.)

“Where!?” I demanded, struggling as they tried to pull me away. He finally looked at me — those dark piercing eyes shining with something colder than anger. “Hell”.