Aakriti's POV

"Aaku, are all the preparations done?" Dadu said, entering my room, his voice laced with calm but tired warmth.

"Yes, Dadu. Almost everything is ready," I said, trying to sound cheerful. Only three days are left for the wedding. Just seventy-two hours. I would be changing from Miss Aakriti Pratap Nanda to Mrs. Aakriti Dhruv Singh Rathore. I don't even know how I will handle the new responsibilities and duties with my chaotic mind.

He nodded with that gentle smile he always wore when he looked at me—soft, proud, a little tired. I can finally see the relief in his eyes, which was missing for so long. That worry he'd been holding ever since Papa died. He had worried too much, mostly because of my stubbornness, and I knew it.

"Good. I also invited your mother." His words dropped like cold water down my spine. I froze, hands stilled mid-motion.

"She said she would come." he added, almost as if saying it again might make it more believable. My throat tightened.

"Why invite her?" I asked, quieter this time.

"She doesn't care about me. Why the formality?" I said, trying to control my anger.

"She is your mother, beta. Her presence is needed at your wedding." he said gently.

I turned to him fully now, eyes flashing with a mixture of disbelief and pain I hadn't expected to feel today—not this kind of pain, not again.

I looked at him with teary eyes. I didn't expect to feel this pain again.

"Her presence?" I repeated, voice strained.

Where was her 'presence' when Dad died, Dadu? When I stood at his funeral trying to hold myself together so no one would see me cry? When I had no idea what to do with the business? When I burned myself trying to figure out how to cook her special daal because I missed her. She didn't love Dad, but what about me? If not love, then at least I deserved care, as her blood. But nothing was given to me. I wanted to say these words loud, but I didn't; I held myself back. What would be the point of arguing with Dadu? Even he had lost his only son, who he raised with care and love. A pillar of this house. His pride. His support. He didn't deserve more pain.

So instead, I asked, "Did she agree?"

"Yes." He nodded, and I swallowed hard.

"It means she wants to ease her guilt by showing up in a saree and shedding a few tears in front of everyone. That's all. She left Dad. She left me. And she never looked back. She didn't even call." I said.

"Aakriti, tell the truth: you don't want her at your wedding. Should I tell her not to come? I can see your facade." Dadu said sternly. I couldn't answer him. I don't know what I want. Do I want to see her? The idea of her coming to my wedding forms knots in my stomach. A part of me still longed for her warmth. Hoped for her to come and hugged me, calling me 'gudiya' again. Mom and Dad used to call me 'gudiya'. I hate this part of myself, which is still longing for her love. I craved her so much; only I know. But most importantly, does she want to meet me? I know she doesn't care about me. In the last twelve years, I didn't even receive a simple call from her. Even if she comes for formality, I still wish to see her.

"We'll deal with whatever comes." Dadu smiled and patted my head. Then he walked out quietly, leaving the door ajar. I stood in my room recalling all the past memories.

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I couldn't sleep. The fairy lights outside my window blinked as they reminded me that the clock was ticking.

I got up, pulled my shawl closer, and walked to the corner shelf where Papa's photo sat. That same photo shows him smiling in a warm, cheeky way, as if he had just told a bad joke and was waiting for me to groan. I sat down on the floor, folding my knees up as I used to when I was younger, back when he used to oil my hair every Sunday and scold me for stealing all the cashews from the dry fruit box. I wrapped my shawl tighter around myself.

"Papa..." My voice trembled. "Three days. Just three days left, and then I'll be married." I smiled a little, tears already collecting in the corners of my eyes.

"Can you believe it? Me—your stubborn, hot-headed gudiya—is getting married." I chuckled through my tears.

"To Dhruv. Yeah... Dhruv Singh Rathore. Sounds heavy, doesn't it? He's not like the guys you used to warn me about, though. He doesn't pretend to have everything figured out, like me." I paused, just looking at him.

"You would have liked him. He's the kind of man who listens even when I don't say anything. He's a little annoying and kind of bossy sometimes. But he's steady, Papa." I looked down, twirling the edge of my shawl.

I traced the edge of the photo frame, my voice lowering.

"But Papa... she's coming. Mom. Dadu invited her. And she said yes." I let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know what to do with that. I mean, why now? Why show up after all these years? She just left, Papa. Like we didn't matter. Like I didn't matter." I complained in a childish tone.

"She didn't even call. Not once. Not for my birthday, not when you died... not even to say, 'I hope you're okay.' I was fifteen, Papa. I criticized you for drowning in sadness after she left. But what right do I have? I am here longing for her. Even after she left me. Even when she was not there when I needed her. We both are hopelessly in love with her. Allowing her to torment us and still wanting her in our life." A tear slid down my cheek. I wiped my eyes, suddenly angry. But on whom?

"Papa, you made us so strong that I never needed anyone to feel safe. But with Dhruv, I feel safe. The safe feeling that I lacked in my life after you left. I don't know if I can be anyone's wife, Dhruv's wife, when I'm still not healed from my traumas and pain. What if I'm too broken? I wish you were here. You'd know what to say." I hugged the frame closely, seeking comfort.

"I will try to accept the changes with positivity. Accept Dhruv as my husband. Accept Mom if she moves towards me." I said softly.

Dhruv's POV

I entered the palace, and it was chaotic. People were moving around and arranging everything. Karan was moving around and ordering his team to make sure everything was perfect. Kabir complained to Sachi that he is allergic to manual labor, and Sachi just placed the boxes in his hands and ordered him to carry them up.

I went to my room and changed my clothes. Instead of going down again, I moved towards the photo room. I went and stood in front of my parents' photo and felt emotions surging through me.

"Hey, Ma... Papa." I paused. I swallowed, trying to find the right words.

"I don't know where to begin... So... I wanted to tell you something. Big news, actually. I'm getting married."

I smiled as if I could hear my mom's gasp of excitement in my head.

"Yeah, I know. Took me long enough, right?"

I looked at them properly. My chest felt full—happy, nervous, emotional, all at once.

"Her name's Aakriti. Aakriti Pratap Nanda. And I swear to you, Ma, she's... she's something else. Not perfect but real. Strong. Fierce. And so full of love that she doesn't even realize it most of the time." I smiled, shaking my head a little.

"She doesn't trust easily. But Ma, when she does—my god. It's like you're holding the purest part of her heart. And she doesn't give it away easily. She gave it to me even without realizing it." I paused, feeling overwhelmed.

"She claims to not care but cries seeing me in pain. She comforts me when I am low. She took care of me when I was drunk. I am horrible when drunk. Even I fear that side of me. Because Dhruv Singh Rathore being irrational is scary. That irrational, scary part behaved like a baby in front of her. She calms me. Makes me a better person. But she also triggers me by pushing me away. This marriage might seem like a forced one, but trust me, it isn't. Dad I can see you mocking me. You know your bad luck and stupidity in love is hereditary. We three inherited it, making ourselves miserable. But luckily I got it in a small quantity. Dadu was smart; he got you married to Mom, or else you would have died single without an offspring." An image of Dad frowning at me flashed in my mind. I let out a small chuckle.

"Mom, We are getting married because we love each other. I love her so much and will go to any means to protect her. And even Aakriti loves me. She is scared of love, thinking it will fade. But I will not let her fear come true." I said with determination.

"I never thought I'd feel like this. Like I've found someone who can see past everything and still not judge. I never thought of getting married, as I felt no one would understand me and my bond with my siblings. But with her, I feel that she might bond more with them, leaving me aside. The more I get to know about her, the more I feel love towards her."

I swallowed.

"And when she smiles, Ma... you'd love her. You'd call her 'sunshine in disguise' or something poetic like you always did." Ma loved writing poetry, but sadly none of her children inherited her talent.

"Papa, you would have loved her as she keeps me in check. I just wish you both were here to see her. To bless her. To hug her. Because you both would have loved her more than me. I am pretty sure you both would have treated her like your daughter and me like your son-in-law. I'm happy. And for the first time in a long time, it doesn't scare me to say that out loud. It's just that I miss you both." My eyes were filled with tears, but I didn't wipe them away immediately as I knew I was going to cry for a few more seconds.

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