'' Ahem....!!
Sound of a clearing throat cut through her mother’s scolding. Both Myra and her mother turned, surprised, to see Rajveer standing there, silently watching them.
Myra’s heart skipped a beat, caught between shock and embarrassment.
“Oh… hello, Rajveer. Please, come in,” her mother said, forcing a polite smile.
“Hello, Aunty. How are you? I’m here to give this to Anaya,” Rajveer said, holding out her phone.
“You can give it to her yourself. I can call her,” her mother replied.
“It’s okay, Aunty. Please give it to her. I’ll call her later,” Rajveer said gently.
The whole time, Myra could feel his gaze on her, steady and piercing. But she didn’t dare look up. Her face burned, a mix of shame and lingering humiliation from her mother’s words.
She didn’t know why she was still standing there. All she wanted was to run away and hide somewhere. But her feet refused to move.
The moment he left, Myra didn’t wait anymore. She rushed upstairs to her room.
She closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of her bed. Her chest felt tight. Her mother’s words had hurt—but what hurt more was being humiliated in front of her sister’s fiancé.
A tear slipped down and landed on her arm. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself.
To her parents, she was treated like a dirt.
Her sister didn’t even acknowledge her.
Sometimes, it felt like she was a stranger in her own family.
Since childhood, she had learned to cope with it. Anaya was always adored. Myra was always ignored. Anaya was fair and beautiful. Myra was dusky. Anaya was a school topper. Myra was just average.
She tried—so hard—to be like her sister. She studied day and night and passed well, but no one cared. She starved herself, trying to become slim like Anaya. She lost weight, but the hatred never stopped.
Then, she stopped trying.
She stopped changing herself for them.
She learned to love herself. To accept herself.
Now, she didn’t care what people said or how they looked at her. They could compare her to her sister all they wanted.
They were different—like earth and sky.
And she was proud of who she was.
------------------
The view from his apartment was breathtaking. The city lights stretched endlessly, glowing against the dark sky. Rajveer stood on the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes, that works,” he said calmly. “I’ll send the detailed proposal by tonight. Of course—my secretary will coordinate with your team and follow up shortly.”
He ended the call and let out a slow breath. Finally. He had done it.
They would soon become business partners, and this collaboration promised strong profits.
Rajveer rested his hands on the balcony railing, a faint smile playing on his lips. He felt satisfied—proud of this achievement.
Soon, Anaya would be his wife. Then his life would feel complete. She was beautiful—stunning, really. He had never been drawn to any woman before the way he was drawn to her. Her beauty had captivated him completely.
Without warning, his thoughts drifted back to the scene at Anaya’s house. He had gone there only to return her phone, which she had left in his car—never expecting to witness something like that.
Their mother had been scolding Myra—Anaya’s sister. His soon-to-be sister-in-law.
A troublesome one, he thought.
He didn’t care about her.
All that mattered to him was one thing—making Anaya his wife.
Soon. Very soon.
-----------
On the other side, Myra was cleaning her room. She already knew the news—her sister was getting married by the end of the month.
Anaya was twenty-four now. Myra was twenty-two.
She was happy for her sister. Truly. Anaya was marrying the man she loved. But somewhere deep inside, Myra felt her own life looked dull in comparison.
She still hadn’t found a job. She was still dependent on her parents. Unlike Anaya, who was a model—successful, admired, and now becoming famous.
The man Anaya was going to marry was one of the richest heirs in the country, the successor of a well-known and powerful company.
Myra let out a deep sigh, releasing her frustration.
She was still single.
Never been in love. Never been in a relationship.
Back in school, she had been the quiet nerd—the no one ever noticed.
Sometimes, she wondered if life had simply forgotten about her.
She placed her hands on her waist and looked up at the ceiling, lips pursed.
“God,” she said softly, “are you a little busy up there?”
She waited. No answer.
“Because I was just wondering…” she continued, tilting her head,
“where exactly is my future husband?”
She sighed dramatically and added,
“I mean, did he get lost somewhere? Or did you forget to send him?”
Her eyes widened as another thought struck her.
“Or—oh no—did you send him already and I missed him?” she gasped.
She quickly shook her head.
“No, no. That can’t be it.”
Still, she looked up once more, voice turning hopeful.
“If you don’t mind,” she whispered, “could you send him a little faster? Please?”
Knock. Knock.
She froze.
A maid appeared at the door and told her that her father wanted to see her downstairs.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
Standing in front of the mirror, she adjusted herself, took a deep breath, and let out a slow sigh before walking out of the room.
Her father was in his office.
She knocked before entering.
“Come in,” his voice said from inside.
She stepped in hesitantly, her nerves tightening. She didn’t know why he had called her.
Their relationship had never been easy.
“Dad… you called for me?” she asked softly.
He sat behind his desk, eyes focused on the files in front of him.
“Hm. Sit,” he said without looking up.
She sat down slowly across from him, her heart beating anxiously.
“I asked you to come here because there’s something important I need to tell you.”
Her father closed the file and finally looked at her.
“After your sister’s marriage is done,” he said, without looking at her,
“we’ll start planning your engagement.”
Her eyes widened.
“Dad…” she said carefully, “I’ve just finished my studies. I’m just waiting for my internship—”
He let out a short, humourless laugh.
“Internship?” he repeated.
“As if that matters now.”
The words landed like a slap.
“You don’t have anything important to do,” he continued coldly.
“Just going around with animals and wasting time.”
Her chest tightened.
“That’s not true,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I worked hard. I—”
“Enough.”
He stood up suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I have a reputation to maintain!” he shouted.
She flinched.
“This family doesn’t survive on dreams,” he went on.
“It survives on decisions.”
She swallowed.
“The boy’s family is important,” he said, lowering his voice but sharpening every word.
“This marriage will strengthen our business.”
Her breath hitched.
“…Business?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“A deal.”
The word crushed her.
“You will benefit too,” he added, as if that made it better.
“Security. Status.”
She felt something inside her crack.
“So that’s it?” she asked quietly.
“All my studies… my plans… they don’t matter?”
He looked at her then—finally.
“You can do whatever hell you want after you married!,” he said sharply.
She stood there, heart pounding, eyes burning.
He stepped forward.
“Do you understand?” he asked, his voice low but dangerous.
“Yes, Dad,” she said softly.
Because arguing wouldn’t change anything.
She wasn’t being married.
She was being handed over.
To be continued
Write a comment ...