Author's Pov

Ashi Shukla’s world was small but filled with warmth.

She was the kind of girl whose smile made the world pause for a second — not because it was loud or flashy, but because it was honest. Her laughter had a softness, like wind chimes dancing in a gentle breeze. Her voice was calm, her steps light, and her heart — the kind you’d protect even from a harsh word.

She lived in a modest two-storey home nestled in one of the quiet corners of the city. The Shukla residence wasn’t grand, but it was filled with peace. The curtains were always clean, the kitchen smelled like cardamom tea in the mornings, and the walls held the memories of a simple, happy life.

Ashi was the only child of her parents — Rajeev Shukla and Suman Shukla.

Her mother, Suman, was the soul of the house. A soft-spoken woman, always seen wearing neatly draped sarees, her bangles gently clinking as she moved around the house. She cooked Ashi’s favorite dishes, scolded her for not drinking enough water, and was the first one to smooth her hair whenever Ashi seemed tired.

> “Khud ko itna thakaya mat karo, Ashi. Tere chehre se roshni jaati hai phir,” she would often say, brushing her hand lovingly over Ashi’s forehead.

(Don't tired yourself too much Ashi. Light emanates from your face.)

Her father, Rajeev, was a man of discipline. A government clerk nearing retirement. He spoke less, but his silence carried care. He wasn’t harsh, but he was old-fashioned — believed in respect, order, and responsibilities. Ashi loved him deeply, even when he scolded her for leaving her books scattered on the bed.

> “Ladki ho, ghar sambhalna seekh lo. Kal ko sasural mein kaun sambhalega tumhare piche?”

(You're a girl, learn to manage the household. Who will take care of things after you're married?)

“Main sambhal jaungi, Papa,” she would reply with a soft grin, tying her hair into a loose bun and starting to clean the room.

(I'll take care of it, papa)

She didn’t argue much. She wasn’t made that way.

Ashi was the girl who watered the tulsi plant every morning after bath, who helped her mother in the kitchen, who stitched torn buttons quietly while humming old songs. She believed in love, in good mornings, in small notes tucked inside tiffins. She read romantic novels under her blanket at night and smiled like a child when the heroine found her happy ending.

She wasn’t naïve — just hopeful.

Her life was simple — help with chores, read books, drink tea with her mother, and spend evenings sitting on the terrace watching the sky change colors.

But that peaceful life — the one where her world was safe and warm — was about to take a sharp turn.

A conversation between her father and a visitor had changed everything just a week ago. A proposal. A powerful family. A respected name.

The Deewan family.

Ashi didn’t know them. She had only heard the name once or twice in passing — a wealthy business clan with immense power and reputation. Her father had returned from their first meeting looking stunned, almost proud.

“They liked Ashi. They’re coming next week for an official rishta.”

Her heart had skipped a beat. Not from excitement — but confusion.

Marriage?

Already?

But she didn’t speak much that day. Her father’s eyes held an emotion she hadn’t seen in years — hope. And maybe… a kind of pride. That his daughter, his Ashi, was getting a proposal from a family as grand as the Deewans.

So she stayed silent. Not because she was ready.

But because her father looked happy.

------------------------------------

The evening air outside was soft and cool, and the faint chirping of crickets filled the silence. Inside the house, the warm yellow light of the small bedroom wrapped everything in a gentle calm. The old clock on the wall ticked slowly as if it, too, didn’t want the day to end.

Ashi sat on the edge of her bed, her long black hair falling over one shoulder, her hands playing nervously with the hem of her kurta. Her eyes were lost somewhere — not in the room, not in the moment, but in the thoughts of tomorrow.

The door creaked gently as her mother, Suman Shukla, walked in with a soft smile and a glass of warm milk in her hand.

“Ashi,” her mother said kindly, placing the glass on the small wooden table beside the bed, “have this before you sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Ashi looked up slowly, her face calm but her heart heavy. She nodded, but her hands didn’t reach for the glass. Her mother noticed it — the silence in her eyes, the hesitation in her body.

Suman sat down beside her, tucking her pallu neatly. She placed a comforting hand on Ashi’s back and gave her a little smile.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” she said gently, “I know what’s going on in your mind.”

Ashi sighed deeply and looked at her mother. “Maa… I’m just twenty-two,” she said softly. Her voice wasn’t angry, just filled with quiet confusion. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Her mother listened patiently, not interrupting. Ashi continued, her voice shaky.

“I mean… getting married? It’s such a big step. I’m still trying to understand myself. I’m still figuring out who I am, what I want from life. And now suddenly, I’m being asked to step into an entirely new world… with new people… a new family… a husband I’ve never spoken to.”

Suman reached out and held her daughter’s hand gently.

“I understand, beta,” she said softly, her voice warm and motherly. “But twenty-two is a good age to marry. It’s not too early. You’re mature, sensible, kind. And we’re not forcing you into anything bad. The family we’re talking about… they’re one of the most respected families in the city.”

Ashi looked away, still unsure.

Suman’s voice became softer, more emotional.

“I know you’re scared. Every girl is, before marriage. I was too. It’s not easy to leave your home, your parents, and everything familiar. But life doesn’t always give us time to feel ‘ready’. Sometimes, we grow through the moments we fear the most.”

There was a long pause. The words sat heavy in the air, but not in a painful way. They were real. Honest.

Ashi turned to face her mother fully. “But Maa… what if I’m not happy there? What if I don’t fit in with them? What if I can’t talk to my husband the way I want to? What if I miss you and Papa too much? What if… what if they expect me to be someone I’m not?”

Suman gave her daughter’s hand a soft squeeze.

“Then you take your time. You grow slowly. You stay honest to who you are. And most importantly… you remember that no family is perfect. No marriage is perfect. But respect, patience, and kindness build bridges. And I know, Ashi… I know you have all of that inside you.”

Ashi’s eyes were beginning to glisten. Not tears of sadness, just the overwhelming emotion of change.

Suman smiled at her gently, brushing her hair behind her ears like she used to when Ashi was a little girl afraid of the dark.

“Your father… he comes from a very traditional background. He believes in getting daughters married at the right time. And honestly, he thinks this is a golden chance. The Deewans are not just rich, they’re good people. Respected, stable. They’ll give you a life of comfort. That matters too.”

Ashi nodded slowly, biting her lower lip in thought.

Her mother stood up and walked to the door, then turned back once more.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll need to wake up early. They’re coming to see you. I’ve kept your yellow saree ready. Wear it, it looks beautiful on you.”

Ashi gave a faint, tired smile. “Alright.”

Suman stepped forward again, hugged her daughter tightly, and whispered, “I know this feels like a lot, but trust me… your journey is just beginning. And you’re stronger than you think.”

Ashi nodded against her mother’s shoulder, holding her tightly.

After a few moments, her mother left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Ashi sat there alone again, staring at the untouched glass of milk. She reached for it, but then stopped. Her eyes turned towards the window, watching the moon silently glowing in the night sky.

In that moment, she wasn’t sure if her life was ending or just beginning.

But something inside her told her — change was coming.