Author's POV:

 Engagement Day

 The engagement ceremony of Arjun and Ayesha was nothing short of grand—a perfect blend of tradition and elegance. The Rajvanshi and Shekhawat families stood side by side, their joy lighting up the evening like the rows of golden fairy lights strung across the garden.

Guests flowed in, dressed in vibrant silks and smiles. Music played softly in the background, laughter filled the air, and every corner was adorned with fresh flowers and memories. Ayesha looked radiant in a deep maroon lehenga, her eyes glowing with love and nervous excitement. Arjun, ever composed, stood tall beside her, his gaze fixed on the woman he had chosen, unaware of the eyes that quietly turned away to protect their own heart.

Jhanvi, in a soft pastel saree, moved through the ceremony with practiced poise. She welcomed guests, guided the younger cousins, and ensured every ritual flowed seamlessly. To many, she was just the perfect younger sister—graceful, supportive, smiling. But beneath the surface, every laughter-filled cheer, every exchange of rings, every blessing whispered from elders was a quiet goodbye to the future she had once imagined.

She watched from a distance as Arjun slid the ring onto Ayesha’s finger, his face filled with quiet devotion. The applause that followed echoed louder in Jhanvi’s chest than in the air around her. It was the sound of dreams closing gently.

Yet, there was no bitterness in her eyes—only a soft melancholy, and a strength that had begun to take root. That night, she didn’t cry. She stood beside her sister during the photographs, smiled for the cameras, and carried herself like the moon—bright and serene, even while reflecting a sorrow no one else could see.

The engagement was not just the celebration of a new union—it was the silent end of another story, witnessed only by one girl and the garden that had always known her heart best.

 The Rajvanshi and Shekhawat families spared no effort in planning the grand wedding of Arjun and Ayesha. The union of two esteemed families—already connected through years of friendship and business—was now set to be sealed with sacred vows, turning legacy into lineage. Preparations unfolded with dazzling fervour, every detail a careful brushstroke on the canvas of what would be remembered as one of the most spectacular weddings the town had ever seen.

The venue, a heritage palace nestled on the outskirts of the city, radiated timeless grandeur. Its sprawling courtyards were turned into floral wonderlands, each corner blooming with exotic arrangements in soft pastels and vibrant hues. Pathways glowed under strings of fairy lights, casting a magical shimmer across marble floors and age-old arches. It felt like walking through a dream—one too beautiful to touch, especially for a heart already breaking in silence.

 Inside, opulence reigned. The palace interiors were draped in silk, with velvet tapestries cascading from the walls. Golden chandeliers lit up the hall like captured stars, while mirrored surfaces reflected the joy in every corner. From intricate mehndi patterns drawn during laughter-filled afternoons to the pulsating energy of the sangeet night, every event brimmed with life. Dances were choreographed with affection, songs were sung with nostalgia, and blessings flowed like the wine that accompanied the celebration.

The sangeet night stood out—family members took the stage in vibrant costumes, dancing with abandon, their eyes sparkling with love for the bride and groom. Even Jhanvi, though inwardly torn, performed a soft, graceful dance for Ayesha—a sister’s offering of peace, wrapped in tradition and veiled heartache. Her movements were fluid, serene, but only she knew the strength it took to not let her voice crack with the music.

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