He stood before a spread of photographs, each one laid out like proof of a plan he hadn’t known existed. He scanned them one by one. In every picture, she and Lakshya sat together, laughing, their smiles bright and effortless, the kind of smiles that belonged to people who’d been photographed a hundred times growing up.

It felt unreal. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him: they were actually getting married. He had always known they were close childhood friends, inseparable in the way that only childhood can make two people, but he had never imagined it could come to this. Rage rose inside him like a storm. He kept looking at the photographs as if numbers and faces on paper could not be true.

A man standing nearby watched him with nervous restraint and cleared his throat. “Lakshya has to go back to England,” the man said quietly. “That’s why everything’s being rushed. Both families are excited the houses is already full of guests. The engagement date is set. It’s tomorrow. She’s even started wedding shopping. There’s not a soul here who isn’t thrilled about this.”

He picked up a single photo of the two of them sitting side by side, laughing in sunlight, and stared at it until the edges blurred. Anger flared so hot and sudden that the man beside him flinched. His voice slipped out in a small, frantic whisper.

“Sir… Neil, sir…”

The words felt like an accusation. They scraped at him the way small stones scrape bare skin. Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest clay pot and smashed it against the wall. The crack echoed down the corridor. He moved with the speed of someone pushed to the edge, crossed the room in two strides, and seized the man by the collar, bringing him close enough that their faces were inches apart. His fingers tightened around the man’s throat.

“Do whatever it takes,” he hissed, voice low and dangerous. “Turn the world upside down. Kill the whole family if you must, but this marriage will not happen. Do you hear me? I want to know where they go, who they meet, and what they do. I want every single moment of their lives reported to me. Don’t take your eyes off them. I’ll decide what needs to be done, but this wedding will not happen. That’s final.”

The man could only nod, trembling, for he knew this was no ordinary order and that, in this moment, nothing ordinary would stop the man before him. Outside the small, cramped room, the city murmured on as always, but inside, time seemed to have thickened.

He sat back down, hands still tingling with adrenaline, eyes fixed on the photographs as if willing them to change. He spoke aloud to himself, half prayer, half vow. “If only I had waited a little longer. That was all I needed. Just a little more time and everything could have been different. But no. It all moved too fast. I won’t let it happen. I won’t lose you.”

He pressed his palm flat against one of the pictures, as if feeling for a pulse. “I didn’t love you for nothing,” he told the image. “If I love you, I’ll fight the whole world for you. First, I’ll stop this wedding at any cost. Once that’s done, I’ll fix everything else. I swear it.”

Outside that room, the hum of daily life went on obliviously. Inside, a plan was being formed, less a strategy and more an oath, a private war announced in the silence around a wooden table and the scattered proof of a future he refused to accept.

****

Bhumi sat quietly, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Around her, the room was filled with colors, silk, shimmer, and noise, everything that spelled celebration. Her mother was smiling from ear to ear, holding each outfit like she’d found some hidden treasure. The happiness on her face was almost glowing, the kind that only mothers radiate when their dreams finally seem to be coming true.

But Bhumi didn’t share that joy.

She wasn’t even present in that room, not really. She kept her head low, pretending to be absorbed in the scattered outfits, but in reality, she was secretly replying to Lakshya’s messages. He was sitting at his father’s office, but even from there, he hadn’t stopped pestering her all morning. Nonstop messages buzzing on her phone.

“Red saree? Why do you even need red right now? Your nose must already be red with anger; that shade’s enough for the day.”

Bhumi’s lips curved slightly, though her eyes remained sharp. She read the message under the pile of fabric, her fingers moving quickly as she glanced up at her mother, still lost in a world of clothes, colors, and relatives.

Her gaze shifted toward her aunt, who was deep in conversation with Bhumi’s mother, happily analyzing wedding rituals and gossip. The house was already crowded with relatives; the engagement was just a day away. Guests, laughter, and chatter, it all surrounded Bhumi like noise she couldn’t escape. She sighed and quickly hid her phone under a pile of saris, typing her reply discreetly.

“Yes, I love red. That's why I’ve decided that on the wedding night, I’ll break your head, and the blood will make a perfect shade of red.”

Lakshya was sitting in a conference room when the message appeared on his screen. He glanced toward his father, who was deeply focused on the discussion, then back at his phone. A tiny laugh escaped him before he quickly covered his mouth, trying to hide it. He typed back immediately.

“The Bloody Bride… the new bride who mercilessly kills her innocent husband on the first night. Imagine that headline: "My cracked skull beside your wedding photo." Sounds dramatic, huh?”

Bhumi’s nostrils flared as she read it. She shut her eyes tightly, trying not to scream. Everything around her, the noise, the wedding preparations, and the relatives’ laughter was already making her furious, and now Lakshya was adding to it. She opened her eyes again, forced a large fake smile for her mother, and looked around the room at her giggling cousins and at her aunt still complaining about her daughter’s mismatched marriage, using every occasion to drag sympathy from anyone who would listen. Bhumi rolled her eyes, used that moment as cover, and typed back quickly.

“Go to hell.”

At the office, Lakshya exhaled sharply as the message flashed on his phone. His father looked up instantly, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Lakshya smiled politely.

“You continue the meeting, Dad. I just need to take an urgent call. Two minutes.”

Before his father could say anything, he was already out of his seat. The senior executives exchanged amused glances; everyone could guess exactly what was going on. Even his father, Rajesh, smiled faintly and resumed the meeting.

Outside, Lakshya walked down the corridor and found a quiet corner to make the call. Back at Bhumi’s house, her phone started ringing. She glanced down, startled, Lakshya. Before she could grab it, her cousins noticed. They pounced instantly, laughing, snatching the phone from her hands.

“Look, look… Lakshya jija ji is calling.”

One of them squealed, dancing out of Bhumi’s reach.

“Give it back…” Bhumi hissed, but they only laughed harder. One cousin picked up the call and said sweetly,

“Hello, Lakshya jija ji…. You two played your game so well no one even realized what was happening, and suddenly, boom… You’re getting engaged.”

Lakshya smiled faintly, leaning against the wall. The background noise at Bhumi’s house was loud laughter, shouting, and chaos, so he stayed quiet, waiting. Another cousin grabbed the phone.

“Jiju, you can’t even stay without our sister, right? We know you two share everything… But at least allow her some space, okay? The engagement’s tomorrow… If she doesn’t look beautiful, what will you do then?”

Lakshya chuckled softly. “Your sister is already beautiful,” he said simply.

The girls burst into laughter, one of them quickly switching the phone to speaker. “Alright, jiju… Say whatever you want to share now, whether it's a confession, love talk, or anything else. Everyone’s listening… We’re not letting you talk to her privately today.”

Lakshya slipped one hand into his pocket and smiled faintly before speaking again, his tone calm and warm.

“I don’t need to make her look beautiful, and she doesn’t need to do anything to make me like her because she already is beautiful. And no one knows that better than me.”

The cousins gasped dramatically, exchanging amused looks. Bhumi’s heart skipped. She looked down at the phone in disbelief, half embarrassed, half furious. Lakshya continued, his voice gentle but sure.

“For all of you, this is just a wedding, a union of two families. But for Bhumi and me, it’s something else entirely. It’s a milestone in our friendship, proof that we’ll always stand by each other, no matter what. She’s my best friend, and she always will be. That’s something both of us understand better than anyone else.”

He paused for a second and then said softly, “Hey, Bhumi…”

The way he said her name made everyone in the room turn to look at her, all smiling, teasing, eyes full of warmth and curiosity. Lakshya had always been effortlessly charming, but today, his words carried a sincerity that made even the older relatives nod in approval. Bhumi didn’t say a word; she just looked down at her phone, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. Lakshya knew the phone was still on speaker. His lips curved in a knowing smile as he continued.

“The engagement’s tomorrow,” he said lightly. “Everyone has been keeping you busy with shopping and preparations, but what’s most important right now is that you get some rest. Don’t let anyone stress you out or tell you what to do to look beautiful or keep a husband happy. You’re perfect the way you are. You’re my friend, and you’ll always be my friend.”

His voice softened further. “I know my friend is exhausted right now, overwhelmed. So, go rest, Bhumi. Take a relaxing nap. I’ll come by in the evening. We’re going out for ice cream, your favorite flavor. Just you and me.”

A chorus of excited squeals erupted from the other end.

“Jiju… We’re coming too.”

Lakshya laughed out loud this time, the sound genuine and light. The cousins joined in, their giggles echoing through the hall. Bhumi couldn’t help but smile. It was small, but real. She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly, the weight on her chest easing just a little.

Across the room, her mother looked at her daughter, the rare softness on her face, and her own eyes misted. Placing a hand gently over her heart, she looked up toward the ceiling, whispering silent prayers.

“God, just keep her joyful. Always.”