I looked at my white wedding gown.

I smiled. This was the dress I had chosen for my wedding.

Blue? Too simple.
Pink? Too childish.
Green? No.

White, with pearls stitched softly into the fabric. When I looked at myself, I felt like a royal princess. Calm, elegant and romantic.

And finally, I was getting to him.

Viaan. The boy I had grown up loving. The man my heart had chosen long before today.

My friends stood behind me, their hands gentle but excited as they led me toward the entrance.

"Slow down," Aanya whispered, laughing softly. "You'll trip."

"You look unreal," Riya said, adjusting the edge of my veil. "Like... actually unreal."

Their voices wrapped around me, warm and familiar. Compliments spilled easily from them, one after another, but none of it felt overwhelming. I smiled, meeting their reflections in the tall mirror beside the entrance.

I knew.

Today was my day.
And I knew how beautiful I looked.

The venue glowed with soft golden light. White marigolds and jasmine hung from the pillars, their scent heavy in the air.

The sound of the music floated gently through the space, slow and emotional, as if it understood the weight of this moment.

The Altar stood at the center, draped in ivory silk and pearls that caught the light every time someone moved. Crystal lamps flickered softly, reflecting off the polished marble floor. Everything looked perfect. Carefully planned. Exactly how I had imagined it.

I took a deep breath.

This was real.

My friends guided me forward, one step at a time, until I reached the altar. The moment I stand beside the aisle, ready to walk towards it when the vian comes., the world seemed to slow. The chatter faded into a distant hum. All

I could hear was my own heartbeat.

I folded my hands together, fingers brushing against the pearls of my gown. They were cool under my touch, grounding me.

I looked ahead.

The seat across from me was empty.

Viaan wasn't there yet.

"It's okay," Aanya murmured as she leaned closer. "He'll be here any moment."

I nodded, still smiling.

Of course he would.

Viaan Shah. The boy I had grown up loving. The boy who had shared my childhood, my silences, my small secrets.

Somewhere between scraped knees and late-night conversations, my heart had chosen him. Quietly and completely.

This was the day all of that led to.

Minutes passed.

The priest adjusted his books. Guests whispered among themselves. I felt eyes on me, admiring, curious, approving, but none of it mattered. My gaze stayed fixed on the entrance.

Waiting.

I told myself not to overthink. Weddings were delayed all the time. Someone misplaced something. Nothing unusual.

Still... my fingers tightened slightly in my lap.

Waiting.

The nusic paused, then resumed. A soft breeze moved through the open space, lifting the edge of my veil. I smoothed it down, my smile unwavering.

Waiting.

A strange unease brushed against my chest. Light. Almost unnoticeable. I pushed it away.

Viaan would come.

He had promised.

Waiting...

I glanced at my parents. My father checked his watch. My mother frowned briefly before forcing a smile for a relative who leaned in to speak to her.

The Altar ahead me remained empty.

Waiting...

My heart beat faster now. Not with excitement, but with something sharper. Questions began to form, unwanted and intrusive.

Why was he late?

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

Waiting.

I lifted my gaze once more to the entrance, hoping, no, expecting, to see him walk in at any second. To see his familiar smile. To hear his voice call my name softly, like he always did.

But nothing happened.

The space stayed empty.

And for the first time that day, my smile trembled.

Still, I waited.

And because I believed, truly believe, that Viaan Shah would never leave me waiting at the Altar.

Still waiting.

Time slipped by in a way that felt cruel. Minutes stretched into hours, and the weight of the moment pressed harder against my chest. My hands had gone cold, even though the lamps around the mandap burned steadily.

Whispers began.

At first, they were soft, almost polite. Guests leaned toward one another, voices lowered, eyes flicking in my direction before quickly looking away. Then the murmurs grew bolder. Curious. Judging.

I kept my spine straight. My chin lifted.

I didn't look back.

My parents didn't move either.

They didn't rush to me. Didn't comfort me. Didn't even look worried. Neetha and Arav Veyansh sat stiffly in their seats, faces tight with irritation rather than concern.

They never cared.
Not after what I had done.

Whatever mistake I had made in their eyes had erased years of obedience, love, and silence. Now, when they looked at me, there was only disgust. As if I was something inconvenient. Something shameful.

Finally, my mother stood.

Neetha walked toward me, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. My father followed, his expression unreadable. When she reached me, she leaned in, her lips close to my ear.

"Ira," she whispered, her voice low and cutting, "don't embarrass us. You've already done enough of that."

My fingers curled tightly in my lap.

"Viaan isn't picking up our calls," she continued. "Call him. Find out where he is."

I clenched my jaw, anger burning beneath the calm I had forced onto my face.

"Back off," I said quietly. "I'll do it."

She searched my face for a moment, then nodded once, sharp and cold, before stepping away as if the situation disgusted her.

I stood.

Every movement felt heavy. Dozens of eyes followed me as I took a step forward, curiosity no longer hidden. Pity crept into some expressions. Others looked entertained.

I ignored all of them.

My steps were steady as I walked away, my lehenga whispering softly against the floor. Inside, I kept repeating the same thought, like a prayer.

He must be nervous.
It's a big day.
He'll be here soon.

I reached the groom's ready room, my heart racing now. I lifted my hand and pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

No Viaan.
No Suit laid out.
No signs of hurried preparation.

Nothing.

The silence hit me first. Thick. Final.

My breath caught painfully in my throat.

"No," I whispered, stepping inside. "No, no, no..."

I looked around, searching desperately, as if he might suddenly appear from behind the curtains or step out of the washroom with an apologetic smile.

But the room stayed empty.

Panic surged through me, sharp and overwhelming. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. I called him again.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

No answer.

My chest tightened until it hurt. Thoughts crashed into each other, loud and merciless.

Where are you?
Why aren't you here?
You promised me.

For the first time that day, tears burned behind my eyes, not soft, not gentle, but angry and desperate.

I pressed my palm against the edge of the table to steady myself.

Something was wrong.

And deep down, beneath the denial and hope, a terrible truth began to take shape, one I wasn't ready to face yet.

But the empty room didn't lie.

Viaan isn't here.

I don't remember how many times I called him.

My phone felt hot in my hand, my thumb aching as I pressed his name again and again. The screen blurred through the tears I refused to let fall. Messages stacked on top of each other, Where are you? Please pick up. Viaan please. This isn't funny. I'm scared.

Nothing.

Thirty minutes passed like a punishment.

Then, suddenly, the call connected.

"Via... Viaan?" My voice broke instantly. Relief rushed through me so fast it made me dizzy. "Viaan, baby, where are you? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I..I thought something happened to you. Thank God you picked up."

There was silence on the other end. Too long. Too cold.

"Ira," he said finally. His voice was flat. Distant. "I can't do this marriage."

My breath hitched.

"W... what?" My hands started shaking so badly I had to press the phone harder against my ear. "What are you saying? Today is our wedding day Vi."

"You disgust me," he continued, his words sharp and unforgiving. "Literally disgust me, Ira. I know you were fucked up but never knew you were this kind of woman... you would stoop this low"

The world tilted.

"Viaan, what... what are you talking about?" My voice began to stutter, panic crawling into every syllable. "I don't understand."

"You know exactly what I'm saying."

"No..no, I don't," I whispered desperately. "Vi..viaan, it's just... it's just that you don't know anything. I never meant.."

"Shut up!!!."

The word cut deep.

Tears burned my eyes, my vision swimming. I pressed my free hand to my chest, trying to breathe.

Then I heard it.

A soft voice in the background. Female. Calm.

"Viaan," she said gently, "is that Ira? You should go to her."

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

"Who's that?" I demanded, my voice rising, cracking. "Who is that? Who the hell is that? That... that bitch... Niya? What is she doing with you?"

There was no hesitation in his reply.

"That's none of your business, Ira."

The words crushed something inside me.

"Please," I begged, my pride shattering completely. "Please come back. Not now..no. not like this. We can fight later. We can talk later. We'll figure everything out. Just don't cancel the marriage like this."

"When did I say I'm cancelling it?" he said coolly.

A breath escaped me in relief. "Thank God..."

"It just won't be with you."

My heart stopped.

"Not me?" I whispered. "Then who?"

"Niya."

The word echoed.

"What?" A broken sound tore out of my throat. "But... but you loved me. We loved each other. Since childhood, Viaan. How.. how c... can you do this?"

My knees buckled and I slid down against the wall, my lehenga pooling around me uselessly. I was sobbing now, openly, my body shaking.

"Everyone is watching," I cried. "They already hate me. My family..my family vi they won't let me live if I do this. If I bring another stain on their reputation, they'll discard me. Please, Viaan. Come back. Please."

"I loved you," he said. "Yes. But I love Niya now."

Each word felt deliberate. Cruel.

"And your reputation," he continued, his voice turning bitter, "the one you flaunt so proudly? The one you use to look down on people? It can burn to ashes for all I care."

"Vi... Viaan," I sobbed, my voice barely audible. "Please don't do this. It's our wedding day. Please. I'm begging you."

He exhaled sharply. "Do not ever call me again, Ira. It's over between us."

The line went dead.

"Viaan?" I whispered.

I called again.

Nothing.

"Viaan, Viann ..vi.. vi please... please..." My voice broke into a scream as the reality finally crashed down on me. "Ah... ahh... please! Ahhhhh!!!"

"Ahhhhhhh!! No, No AHHHHH!!!" I screamed enough to damage my throat.

I collapsed fully onto the floor, clutching the phone to my chest like it could still save me. My white dress spread around me, the pearls digging into my skin, mocking me.

The royal princess.

Left alone.

Broken.

Abandoned.

And for the first time in my life, I understood something with terrifying clarity.

This was not just heartbreak.

This was the end of everything I knew

***

I don't remember standing up.

One moment I was on the floor of the groom's room, my back against the wall, my phone slipping from my fingers. The next, I was walking. My feet moved on their own, carrying me back toward the mandap like a punishment I couldn't escape.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

The music had stopped.

That was the first thing I noticed.

No music. No murmurs of relatives. Just a thick, uncomfortable silence buzzing through the hall. Hundreds of people turned toward me as I entered. Their eyes landed on my face, swollen and streaked with tears, on my disheveled veil, on my trembling hands.

And they knew.

They didn't need an announcement. They didn't need confirmation. People always know when something breaks.

I walked forward anyway. Slowly. Carefully. As if dignity could still be salvaged if I didn't rush.

Whispers erupted.

"Why is she alone?"
"Where is the groom?"
"Did something happen?"
"Oh God... is the wedding cancelled?"

I felt each word like a slap.

I reached the mandap and stood there, alone, facing an empty seat that now looked cruel in its neatness. The fire burned quietly, indifferent. The priest looked at me, then away, uncomfortable.

My parents stood up.

Neetha was the first to speak.

Her face was tight, pale with restrained fury, not concern. Never concern.

"What is going on?" she demanded sharply, loud enough for the nearest guests to hear. "Where is Viaan?"

I swallowed. My throat burned.

"He's... not coming," I whispered.

That was all it took.

The hall erupted.

Gasps. Shocked murmurs. Some people leaned forward, others leaned back as if my humiliation might stain them too.

"What do you mean he's not coming?" Arav asked, his voice cold. "What nonsense is this, Ira?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My chest felt crushed, like something heavy was sitting on it.

Neetha turned to the guests, forcing a brittle smile. "Please excuse us. There seems to be a... misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding.

Someone laughed softly. Not kindly.

"Did the groom run away?" a woman whispered loudly from the second row.

Another voice followed. "I heard something about her character. Maybe that's why."

My hands clenched into fists.

Neetha turned back to me, her eyes sharp and furious. "What did you do?" she hissed under her breath. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't..." My voice cracked. "I didn't do anything."

"Enough," Arav snapped. "You've already embarrassed us enough."

Enough.

The word echoed.

Guests openly stared now. Some pitied me. Others judged. A few looked almost pleased, as if this was entertainment they hadn't expected but were glad to receive.

Phones came out. I saw the subtle movements. Photos. Messages being typed.

Tomorrow's gossip was being written in real time.

Media clicked photos before Arav told his people to stop the media.

Neetha leaned closer to me, her voice poisonous and low. "Do you have any idea what you've done to our name? Standing here like this, abandoned. Do you think people won't talk?"

Her eyes roamed over me with open disgust. "Look at you."

I looked down at my dress.

The white pearls still shimmered softly under the lights. I looked exactly as I had dreamed, royal, elegant, perfect.

And utterly unwanted.

The priest cleared his throat awkwardly. "Shall we... stop the rituals?"

"Yes," Arav said sharply. "Stop this farce."

Farce.

A servant approached hesitantly, whispering something to my mother. Neetha waved her away impatiently.

"That girl," someone muttered. "So arrogant before. Look at her now."

Another voice followed. "No man leaves a wedding without a reason."

"Thank god Viaan made the decision not to marry this cheap girl", Viaan's mother who once treated me like his own daughter commented.

I felt something inside me crack completely.

I wanted to scream.

To tell them they were wrong.

I am not fucked up. I am not evil.

I never wanted to become like this.

To tell them I had loved him, trusted him, waited for him.

But my voice was gone.

Neetha grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "Go inside," she said through clenched teeth. "Do not stand here and make a spectacle of yourself."

I didn't resist.

I let her pull me away, past the guests, past the stares, past the whispers that followed me like shadows.

"She deserves it."
"So shameful."
"What a disgrace to such a family."

The words clung to me.

Inside the corridor, the noise faded, but the damage didn't.

Neetha let go of my arm abruptly.

"From today," she said coldly, "do not expect sympathy from us. You made this mess. You will live with it."

Huh? I mentally chuckled. Like they ever did.

Arav didn't even look at me.

My brothers were not at my wedding.. Probably because of how much their hatred for me must have poisoned them.

I stood there alone, my body numb, my heart shattered beyond repair.

Viaan was gone.
My family was ashamed.
And the world had seen me fall.

As I slid down against the wall, my wedding dress folding uselessly around me, one thought repeated in my mind over and over.

This is the end.