Chapter 7: The Cold Wedding and New Confrontations

7

Arjun and Neha’s wedding was scheduled for the end of June—a rushed affair to hide her pregnancy.

The date was set hastily by the pandit, no grand ceremony. No new lights, no extra mithai. The difference from my own engagement was stark.

My wedding with him had been grand; his wedding with Neha was cold and deserted.

Where once there were crowds and laughter, now only a handful of faces. Even the bandwallahs looked bored.

A UPSC topper should have been in demand, but everyone knew he’d offended my father. No one wanted to risk angering the Sharmas for a young man with no future.

In Delhi, power shifts overnight. Today’s hero, tomorrow’s pariah.

Even the IAS postings reflected this—while the second and third rankers received government orders, Arjun heard nothing. The North Block peons whispered about it. Everyone guessed my father had pulled strings—I said nothing.

Their wedding took place in a cramped rented apartment. Arjun spent lavishly—hiring outside cooks, setting up ten tables, even borrowing the neighbour’s space.

Neighbours peeked through half-open doors, gossiping about the biryani and empty seats. The only decorations were plastic flowers and a borrowed stereo playing old Lata songs.

In the end, not a single official attended; only two tables were filled with neighbours.

Even the local councillor sent regrets. The apartment echoed with awkward laughter and the clink of unused glasses.

I heard Arjun’s face was dark throughout.

He barely smiled, jaw set, eyes only for Neha. Even the photographers struggled to find a cheerful shot.

He blamed my father for interfering. When I went to the jewellery shop for ornaments, he was waiting—after ten years as husband and wife, he still knew my habits well.

He cornered me by the gold bangles, voice low and angry. The shopkeepers pretended not to notice, but I saw their ears twitching for gossip.

"You think I rose to power just because of your father? The Chief Minister valued me because of our shared vision and my talent for governance."

He sneered, "Ignorant woman, do you think this is enough to stop me?"

His pride was unbroken, but I saw the cracks. In the jewellery shop’s glass, our reflections looked like strangers—tied by kismet, separated by betrayal.