The wedding date had been fixed - exactly 22 days from the day the Deewans visited the Shukla home. Just like that, Ashi's life took a sudden turn, one she hadn't dared to dream or prepare for.

The house that once echoed with slow-paced routines was now bustling with relatives, rituals, phone calls, and long shopping lists. The living room had stacks of new sarees folded neatly in piles, clinking jewelry boxes waiting to be locked in steel almirahs, and endless murmurs of aunties debating colours, rituals, and guest lists.

But in the center of it all - stood Ashi.

Calm on the outside. Conflicted within.

Every morning began with her mother gently waking her up, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Wake up, Ashi. Today we'll go to the jeweler's first. The Deewans are taking care of the wedding lehenga, but we have to get the accessories."

Ashi would nod, brush her hair, smile in the mirror, and quietly tuck away her doubts under kohl-lined eyes and a soft smile.

She had barely spoken to Kunal. Not once since that short five-minute meeting on the terrace.

No text. No call. No message.

But Ashi, being Ashi, didn't question it. She assumed the best. "Maybe he's shy... Maybe he respects the process."

"Not everyone is expressive, Ashi," she told herself one evening, twirling the bangle on her wrist. "Some boys are quiet. That doesn't mean they're not interested."

Her mother noticed her silence.

While packing a few gifts one evening, Suman casually asked, "Did Kunal call you, beta?"

Ashi smiled faintly. "No, Maa. I think he's just... introverted."

Suman hesitated, then said softly, "That's okay. Maybe he's just nervous. Big families like theirs have a different way of doing things. Once you're married, you'll have time to understand him better."

Meanwhile, across the city, the Deewan mansion was a palace of silent tensions.

The halls may have been filled with grandeur, but not warmth.

Ajay sat in his private study, flipping through wedding vendor portfolios, delegating every detail to their high-end planner.

He turned to Kunal, who sat across from him, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone.

"The Shuklas have finalised the mehendi date. You're attending all the functions. No excuses," Ajay said sternly.

Kunal didn't respond.

"Kunal," his father's voice turned sharper.

"Yeah," he mumbled, not looking up. "I'll show up."

Ajay slammed his hand on the table. "You'll do more than 'show up'. You will behave like a groom. You'll smile. You'll perform rituals. You'll be the son I've raised you to be."

Kunal finally looked up, eyes colder than before. "You've raised me to follow orders. That's exactly what I'm doing."

Ajay's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

***

At the dinner table, Anita tried to soften the air. "We should get Ashi's measurements to the designer soon. I was thinking something pastel for the reception."

Kishi, helping herself to salad, added, "I think she'd look beautiful in sea green. Her skin tone will glow."

Anita smiled, "I'll call Suman tomorrow."

From the head of the table, Ajay said, "We want everything perfect. No compromises."

Everyone nodded - except Kunal.

He stood up, pushed his plate away, and muttered, "I'm not hungry."

"Kunal-" Anita called after him, but he had already left the dining hall.

No one dared to stop him. Not even Ajay.

**

Back in the Shukla home, the evenings were filled with song practices. Ashi's cousins danced in the courtyard, laughing, teasing her about married life.

"Ashi," one cousin giggled, "Get ready for your husband's tantrums! Rich boys are so moody!"

Ashi laughed, brushing it off. "Then I'll handle him like Maa handles Papa - with tea and silence!"

Everyone chuckled.

But only she knew the truth - that she didn't know how to handle Kunal.

Because she didn't know him at all.

One night, sitting by the window with her diary open, she wrote:

> "There's a wedding happening. But I don't know if there's a relationship underneath it yet. I see pictures of brides smiling at their fiancés, texting at midnight, giggling on calls. And I wonder... why does silence feel like my companion instead of him?

But maybe... some stories start in silence before they bloom."

As the wedding prep accelerated, the Deewans sent designer boxes, silver trays filled with gifts, and invitations to Ashi's doorstep. Every day felt heavier. Bigger.

But one person remained completely absent from it all - Kunal.

Until the night before the roka ceremony, when Suman received a call from Anita.

"Please make sure Ashi is well rested," Anita said gently. "We're sending some jewelry tomorrow morning, and Kunal will be attending the roka, of course."

Ashi, overhearing from the kitchen, paused mid-stir.

Kunal was coming?

A strange flutter stirred in her chest. Nervous? Hopeful? Confused?

She wasn't sure.

But she knew one thing - tomorrow, she would see him again.

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

The morning of the Roka began with a buzz of excitement in the Shukla household. The air was rich with the fragrance of marigold garlands, the scent of freshly prepared sweets, and the soft sound of bhajans playing in the background. Relatives began pouring in one by one, bringing vibrant sarees, loud conversations, and endless laughter.

Suman walked into Ashi's room with a carefully folded saree in hand - pale peach, soft silk, delicate golden threadwork.

"Ashi," her mother whispered, her voice a gentle touch, "wear this today. It's subtle, but elegant. You'll look like a dream."

Ashi smiled faintly and nodded, "Okay, Maa."

Inside, though, a wave of nervousness had started to rise.

She hadn't spoken to Kunal - still.

And while her cousins gushed about how lucky she was to be marrying into the Deewan family - the riches, the luxury, the stature - Ashi found herself constantly drifting back to one thought:

> "Why do I still feel like a stranger in my own story?"

She got ready slowly - light makeup, a simple necklace, and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Meanwhile, at the grand Deewan mansion, everything was going according to schedule - except Kunal.

He was still upstairs in his room when the car arrived to take the family to the Shuklas.

Ajay Deewan, already dressed in a pristine cream sherwani, called out, "Kunal, we are leaving in five. Get down."

No response.

Anita sighed and walked toward his room, knocking gently before pushing the door open. Kunal was sitting on the bed, dressed in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, sipping black coffee, looking like he belonged anywhere but in this moment.

"Kunal, for once, just... try," Anita said softly. "Just show up for the sake of dignity. Ashi's family is simple, sweet people. Don't embarrass them. Or us."

He looked at her, unfazed.

"I'll go. I'll be polite. Don't expect more."

Anita nodded. It was more than she expected.

**

The Shukla house transformed as the Deewan cars arrived. Neighbours peeked through windows, kids ran around excitedly, and Ashi stood quietly behind the curtain, peeking at the family stepping out one by one.

Ajay Deewan - tall, regal, commanding.

Anita - graceful, with a mother's warmth in her eyes.

Karthik and Kishi and- perfectly dressed, always smiling.

Little Kavya - holding a teddy bear, trailing behind.

And then... Kunal.

He stepped out, wearing a plain white kurta, his hair slightly tousled, hands in his pockets, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat - not because she was in love. Not because she was nervous.

But because - again - he looked like he didn't want to be here.

**

The ceremony began. There were smiles exchanged, introductions, gifts, laughter. Rituals were being performed. Gold chains were placed in trays. Sweets were exchanged. Pandit ji chanted mantras.

And Ashi sat there quietly beside Kunal.

No words.

No eye contact.

No acknowledgement.

Only silence - the kind that doesn't comfort, but slowly begins to suffocate.

At one point, her cousin whispered in her ear, "Oho, so serious? Say something to your fiancé! He's handsome!"

Ashi gave a small, forced smile.

She turned toward Kunal, gathering courage.

"You're okay?" she asked gently.

Kunal didn't look at her. Just nodded slightly. "Yeah."

And turned away.

That was all.

Not one word more.

Not one second longer.

**

After the ceremony, guests were busy eating. Ashi stood near the kitchen, away from the crowd, sipping water, her mind a storm of thoughts.

Why wasn't he talking to her?

Why did he seem so... uninterested?

Was it her fault? Did she do something wrong?

She didn't realize her father was watching her from a distance. Rajeev Shukla walked up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You look lost, beta."

Ashi blinked. "No, Papa. Just tired."

He nodded. "I know you didn't ask for this marriage. But I've chosen this family for a reason. They're good people. You'll be happy."

She smiled. "I trust you, Papa."

But inside, something quiet was beginning to unsettle her - like a seed of doubt planted gently in the soil of her hope.

**

Later that evening, back in her room, she stared at the mirror.

One hand removed her earrings. The other trembled.

She whispered to herself:

> "I thought he was just shy.

But what if he's just... not interested?

What if I'm walking into a life that's already closed its door on me - even before I step in?"

She didn't cry. Not yet.

But the silence between them that day spoke louder than any rejection could have.

And the ache in her heart, however quiet, had already begun to grow.

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

The wedding day arrived with a kind of finality Ashi couldn't put into words.

She sat in front of the mirror, dressed in a beautiful deep red lehenga, heavy jewelry weighing down her slender frame, and the mangtika perfectly aligned on her forehead. She looked like a bride - flawless, ethereal - the kind little girls imagine when they dream of weddings.

But Ashi didn't feel like a bride.

Not really.

She felt like a performer in someone else's script.

Suman adjusted the dupatta on her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. "You look divine, Ashi. Kunal is going to be speechless."

Ashi smiled softly, hiding the bitter truth.

> He already was. Every single time.

Downstairs, the sounds of dhol and shehnai filled the air. The Deewans had arrived - the baraat loud and celebratory. Kunal rode in on a decorated horse, forced by tradition and family expectations. His expression was unreadable, almost mechanical.

Inside the wedding venue, as the rituals unfolded - the pheras, the mangal sutra, the sindoor - Ashi kept glancing sideways at the man beside her.

Kunal.

Still silent. Still distant.

He didn't meet her eyes. Not even once.

He looked at the pandit. At the fire. At his shoes.

But never at her.

It was as if he was going through a ritual, not a union.

And then, it was done.

The priest announced, "You are now husband and wife."

Ashi looked down at her hands - his wedding ring on her finger, red vermilion in her parting, the heavy garland around her neck.

Just like that, she was no longer Ashi Shukla.

She was Ashi Kunal Deewan.

And yet - not a single word from him.

No congratulations.

No shy smile.

Not even a whisper.

**

Later, in the Deewan mansion, as she entered the grand house for the griha pravesh, Ashi paused at the decorated entrance. A silver kalash stood at her feet, rice gently spilling over the marble floor as she stepped inside - her first step into a house that felt like a palace, yet nowhere near a home.

Anita Deewan held her hand warmly. "Welcome, beta. You are our Lakshmi now."

Ashi smiled gratefully. It felt genuine. At least someone welcomed her.

From the staircase above, Karthik and Kishi watched silently, and Kavya clapped cutely, "Chachi! Pretty!"

But Ashi's eyes searched for one face.

Kunal's.

Nowhere.

He didn't wait for her. He didn't help her in. He didn't even stay downstairs.

And that - somehow - hurt more than she expected.

**

Late that night, in the bridal room, she sat on the edge of the large, beautifully decorated bed. The room smelled of roses and sandalwood, soft candlelight flickering against the walls. Her bangles jingled as she fidgeted nervously, waiting.

Minutes turned to hours.

Then - the door opened.

Kunal walked in.

Still in his wedding attire. Looking exhausted. But not emotionally - just physically.

He walked past her without saying a word, removed his sherwani, picked up a pillow, and without meeting her eyes, said:

"I'll sleep on the couch. You can take the bed."

Ashi blinked, confused. "Kunal..."

He didn't stop.

"I'm not good with all this. Just... don't expect much from me. Goodnight."

And with that, he lay down, back turned to her.

No conversation. No explanation. No reason.

Just night of silence.

Ashi sat on the bed, staring at the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her eyes slowly filling with unshed tears.

> So this is how it feels to be married.

Not chosen. Not loved.

Just... placed.

A bride with no groom in her story.

And in that moment, wrapped in silence and silk, Ashi realized:

--------

Morning arrived with soft light slipping through the heavy cream curtains of the bridal room.

Ashi had barely slept.

The bed felt too big. The silence too loud. And Kunal... remained turned away the entire night, breathing slow and even, untouched by the storm of confusion in her heart.

By the time the sun peeked in, she quietly stepped out of the room, adjusting the soft red dupatta over her head. Her bangles chimed lightly, echoing in the empty hallway as she made her way downstairs.

Today was her first rasoi - a tradition, a beginning, a test.

In the vast, modern kitchen of the Deewan mansion, everything gleamed. Silver appliances, marble counters, crystal containers neatly labeled. It wasn't the kind of kitchen she grew up in. But somehow, the smell of cardamom and boiling milk felt comfortingly familiar.

Anita Deewan entered with a soft smile, "You woke up early, Ashi. That's good."

Ashi nodded, "I wanted to prepare before anyone woke up."

Anita stepped closer and adjusted her pallu, lovingly. "You're already becoming one of us, beta. Everyone will gather for breakfast in an hour. Make something sweet - kheer would be good."

Ashi smiled. "Kheer it is."

As she stirred the milk and rice in the large pot, the door creaked and in walked Kishi - radiant in her soft pink morning saree, her eyes lively as ever.

"Need help, choti bahu?" she teased.

Ashi's cheeks warmed. "A little. I've never used such a huge burner before."

Kishi rolled up her sleeves and joined in, chatting casually. "We all started here one day. Don't worry - the first rasoi isn't about perfection, it's about love."

Little Kavya entered soon after, rubbing her eyes. "Mumma, kheer?" she asked sleepily.

Kishi lifted her onto the kitchen counter. "Yes, your new chachi is making it."

Ashi turned and smiled at the little girl. "Want to taste the sugar?"

Kavya grinned and nodded. Ashi gave her a pinch to taste and Kavya gave a thumbs-up with her tiny fingers. "Perfect!"

The morning started to feel lighter, warmer - a soft beginning wrapped in sweetness.

An hour later, Ashi carried the large bowl of steaming kheer to the dining room.

The Deewan dining area was grand - a long polished wooden table, gold-rimmed china already set, Ajay and Karthik seated with newspapers, Anita sitting besides Ajay, Kishi helping Kavya with her chair. Kunal, once again, was missing.

Still.

Ashi gently placed the bowl in the center. Anita beamed, "Come, serve everyone."

As she began filling bowls, a quiet sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway behind.

She looked up.

And paused.

A tall man walked into the room - broad-shouldered, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and grey joggers, his hair slightly messy, stubble along his jaw, eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

He looked... like someone who carried silence like a second skin.

And Ashi couldn't look away.

The spoon hovered mid-air in her hand.

Kishi noticed and leaned in, whispering with a smile, "That's Raghav. Kunal's older brother."

Anita added gently, "He doesn't come out much. He prefers to stay alone. Avoids public, guests, even family dinners. You're lucky to see him today."

Raghav glanced up, his eyes briefly meeting Ashi's.

Not a smile. Not a nod.

Just a flicker of recognition.

And then he walked to the far end of the table and sat down silently, picking up a newspaper.

No greetings. No questions.

But something about him...

Felt heavier than silence.

Ashi quickly looked away and returned to serving.

Her hands slightly trembled as she handed him the bowl. He accepted it without a word, but his fingers brushed hers lightly - a fleeting touch - and it felt like lightning in winter.

She shook it off.

Kunal was her husband.

This man was just a stranger.

Or so she thought.

**

Later, as she cleaned up the dishes with Kishi and Anita, she found her mind drifting back to him - to the unreadable eyes, the cold air around him, the sadness in his presence.

And she whispered to herself,

> Who is he, really?

> What broke him so much... that even happiness avoids him?

She didn't know yet...

---