Chapter 8

I woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains. For a moment, I forgot where I was. The plush bed, the expansive room, the faint scent of fresh lilies—it was all unfamiliar. Then reality settled in. I was no longer in my small, simple room at Dadaji's house. This was the beginning of my new life as Tara Mehra, the wife of Veeranshu Mehra.

I turned my head instinctively, expecting to see Veeranshu beside me, but the bed was empty. The other side was cold, untouched, as if he had never been there.

The emptiness of the bed unsettled me, but I pushed the thought aside. This was an arranged marriage, and I had no illusions about romance or intimacy developing overnight. Still, the quiet absence stung more than I cared to admit.

I slipped out of bed and wandered into the en-suite bathroom. Its opulence still overwhelmed me—the marble floors, the gold accents, the walk-in shower that could easily fit three people. I took my time getting ready, unsure of what was expected of me on this first day.

I chose a red saree from the collection I had brought over. The color felt fitting—traditional, bold, and symbolic of the new bride. As I adjusted the pleats in front of the full-length mirror, I couldn't help but feel like an imposter.

Who was this woman staring back at me? She looked poised and elegant, but inside, I felt awkward and out of place.

By the time I stepped out of the room, the house was alive with activity. The staff moved silently, their efficiency impressive yet intimidating. It felt like walking through a world where I didn't quite belong.

I found Veeranshu in the dining room, sitting at the head of a long, polished table. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit, his attention focused on the tablet in front of him. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Good morning," I said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," I replied, hesitating as I took a seat at the far end of the table.

The space between us felt cavernous, and the conversation didn't flow naturally. He seemed preoccupied, his focus shifting back to his tablet. I sipped the tea a staff member had placed in front of me, unsure of what to say.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, his tone polite but distant.

"No, I'm fine," I replied.

The awkwardness hung in the air like a thick fog. I wanted to ask him about his plans for the day, to understand what my role in this household was supposed to be, but the words wouldn't come.

After a few minutes, he stood, straightening his suit. "I have a busy day ahead. If you need anything, Naman will assist you."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the cavernous dining room with only the sound of the clinking teacup to keep me company.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The mansion was vast and filled with endless rooms, each one more opulent than the last. I spent hours wandering through the halls, trying to familiarize myself with my new home.

The staff were polite but formal, their deference making me feel even more out of place. I wondered if they judged me, this quiet woman from a modest background who now lived in a mansion fit for royalty.

I tried to distract myself by unpacking the rest of my belongings, arranging my books on the shelves in our room and setting up small touches that reminded me of home. But the space still felt foreign, like it wasn't truly mine.

As the evening approached, I found myself hoping that Veeranshu and I would have dinner together. It seemed like the kind of thing a newlywed couple should do, even in an arranged marriage.

I went down to the dining room early, watching as the staff prepared the table. They laid out an array of dishes, the aromas filling the air with warmth and comfort.

I waited, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Six o'clock. Seven o'clock. Eight o'clock. The food grew cold, and my heart sank with each passing moment.

"Will Mr. Mehra be joining for dinner?" I finally asked one of the staff.

"I'm not sure, ma'am," she replied.

Her words were polite, but they stung. I realized then that Veeranshu probably had no intention of coming home for dinner.

It was nearly midnight when I heard the faint hum of a car pulling into the driveway. I sat on the bed, still dressed, my saree now slightly wrinkled from hours of waiting.

The door to our room opened, and Veeranshu walked in, his expression weary but composed. He loosened his tie and glanced at me, seeming surprised to find me awake.

"You're still up?" he asked.

"I thought we might have dinner together," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

He looked at me for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I had back-to-back meetings, and they ran late. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

His apology felt sincere, but it didn't erase the loneliness I had felt all evening. "It's okay," I said, forcing a small smile.

He nodded, walking to the wardrobe to change out of his suit. I turned my gaze to the window, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the day. This was my first day as Mrs. Mehra, and it had been anything but magical.

Veeranshu wasn't unkind—he was polite and respectful—but there was a wall between us, one that felt impossible to breach. Perhaps this was what I had signed up for: a life of luxury, but not necessarily companionship.

I stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was what my future would look like. Silent dinners, empty conversations, and a bed that felt far too big for one person.

But even amidst the loneliness, I held onto a small glimmer of hope. This was only the beginning. Maybe, with time, we would find a way to bridge the gap between us.

Maybe love will find a way

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