Nivya Sekhawat

I was shocked. No, speechless. How could someone else decide who I was supposed to spend my life with? My gaze darted to my mother, whose face mirrored my disbelief, and then to my brother, who looked ready to explode.

Engagement. To Nirvaan. Friday.

"How the hell can you all decide my sister's life without even asking her?" Revaan's voice thundered as he shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger as they locked onto Bade Dadaji.

The air in the room felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken resentment and stifled rebellion. Revaan wasn't holding back anymore, and for once, I felt a flicker of hope in the midst of this nightmare.

"This isn't just tradition—this is tyranny!" he spat, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "She's not a pawn in some family legacy!"

Bade Dadaji's face darkened, his lips thinning into a tight line as he leaned back in his chair, unmoved. "Mind your tongue, Revaan," he said, his tone ice-cold. "This is for the betterment of the family. You wouldn't understand the weight of responsibility."

My brother let out a bitter laugh, stepping forward. "Responsibility? Don't you dare talk to me about responsibility when all you do is throw your weight around and crush people under it."

For a moment, I wanted to cheer for him. But the fear in my mother's eyes and the way her hand trembled on the edge of her saree reminded me of the cost of defiance.

I clenched my fists, biting down the scream bubbling inside me. Bade Dadaji needed to land in hell. Honestly, he'd overstayed his welcome on Earth.

"Leave the dining room, Revaan. Nitya, you too," my father ordered sharply, his voice cutting through the tense air like a whip. His glare left no room for argument.

Nitya shot a nervous glance at Revaan before quickly rising from her seat and scurrying out, her footsteps echoing faintly in the silence.

Revaan, however, didn't move right away. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. For a fleeting moment, he looked ready to say something—to push back—but instead, he settled for a scathing glare aimed squarely at our father.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining room, the tension lingering in the space like a heavy fog.

"I won't marry anyone—least of all another bastard like you!" I spat, rising from my seat and glaring at the old hag in front of me. My entire body trembled, but I refused to let my fear show.

"You have no right to shove the weight of your promises onto me," I continued, my voice sharp and unwavering. "That promise was meant for your daughter, the one who defied you. I'm not even your own grandchild, so stop expecting me to fix your broken pride!"

My throat burned, my eyes threatening to spill tears, but I clenched my fists, refusing to break.

"Nivya!" My father's voice thundered as he shot to his feet, his face twisted in anger.

I turned on him with the same ferocity. "Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" I shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the man who stood like a puppet, dancing to their every whim. "You know what I'm capable of. One word from me, and I'll make a spectacle out of you in front of the very chaar log you live to please."

The room fell silent, my words hanging heavily in the air. My heart raced, but I stood my ground, daring anyone to challenge me.

"You are marrying Nirvaan Singh Rathod. This Friday is your engagement," the old hag declared with finality, his tone as rigid as stone. "I don't want to fight with you on this."

My grip on the jug of water tightened, my blood boiling. Before I knew it, I was on my feet, the cool water splashing down over his face. Gasps echoed in the room as his wife sat frozen, her shock painted across her face.

"I belong to no one but myself," I said, my voice trembling with fury and emotion. "Did you hear that? I am not marrying anyone, especially not someone handpicked by people like you." My voice cracked slightly, betraying the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

I turned my gaze toward my mother, silently begging her to say something—anything.

For the first time, she did. "Don't marry her yet," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with desperation. Her eyes locked on mine, shimmering with unshed tears. "She... she has dreams."

Her plea was a fragile lifeline, but it was ripped away almost immediately.

"Go to your room, Shalini," my father barked, his glare cutting through her like a knife.

My mother's shoulders sagged as she looked at me one last time, helplessness etched across her face. She stood and walked away, her silence following her. But at least she spoke today.

It was a small victory, but even that felt hollow.

My chachi rose from her seat as well, her tear-filled eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment. She didn't say a word, but her glance spoke volumes before she followed my mother out of the room.

I stood there, rooted in place, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on my chest. Turning to my father, I let the anger and desperation soften just enough, hoping to reach the part of him that still cared.

"Papa, please," I whispered, my voice trembling under the weight of tears. "I don't want to marry anyone." My gaze bore into his, searching for even a flicker of understanding. For a moment, I thought I saw it—an emotion in his eyes, a crack in his armor.

But it vanished as quickly as it came. His face hardened, and he sat down, his voice low but resolute. "It was decided even before you were born. Tum Rathods ki amanat ho. You are marrying him." {You are the Rathods' responsibility.}

The words hit like a slap, reverberating in the silence. My eyes darted to Bade Dadaji, the puppet master behind this entire charade. His smirk was sharp and cruel, a victory etched on his face.

He hated me. He always had.

I'd spent years challenging his authority, defying his orders, and refusing to bow to his outdated beliefs. This was his way of caging me—using tradition as his weapon.

"I am no one's responsibility but my own. I hope you people rot in hell. I wish I wasn't born a girl in this godforsaken hellhole!" I spat, my insides trembling with rage.

"You're a spineless man, just like every other coward in this family!" My voice trembled, but I let it explode out. "Why the hell don't you just die? At least I would have the satisfaction of knowing that my father is dead, and that's why I'm suffering." My father's eyes hardened, but he didn't respond. His silence screamed louder than anything he could've said.

"And you," I turned to face the puppet who had spent his life bending to the will of others, my own grandfather, "You're a damn hypocrite! Just a puppet in the hands of your so-called 'pious' elder brother." I seethed, my words coming out venomous. "You're no better than him, this old man."

Before I could say another word, a sharp slap landed across my cheek, throwing my head back. Badi Dadi had struck me with the force of someone who thought she could break my spirit.

"You insolent girl, your tongue is sharper than a blade!" she hissed, her eyes seething with fury.

She raised her hand again, but this time, I grabbed her wrist and shoved her back. My chest heaved with a mixture of fury and disbelief. "Don't you dare!" I shouted, every muscle in my body trembling, ready for whatever came next.

"Why didn't you force your daughter to marry the man you wanted? Why pass on her burdens to the next generation—someone like me? If you were so eager for a granddaughter, why didn't you just had a son of your own?" I bit back, aiming directly at the heart of her selfishness—children.

Her face twisted in shock, but I didn't care.

"Enough!" My father's voice cracked like a whip, and he rose from his seat, towering over me. "Not a word more. You will marry Nirvaan. They're coming tomorrow for the Roka ceremony." His eyes dared me to challenge him, his silent threat hanging in the air.

"I'd rather kill you than marry that man." The words burst out, sharp and venomous. I glared at him, refusing to back down. No one would dictate my life—not anymore. I wasn't marrying anyone, especially not Nirvaan. I would fight for my dreams.

"You will marry him, or your father will leave your mother." My grandfather finally spoke, his voice as cold as the stone he sat upon. His words hit me like a blow to the chest, shattering me into a million pieces.

I stood frozen, unable to breathe. His declaration was final. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. Everything I had ever feared had just come to pass.

I glanced at Papa, silently pleading with him, hoping—praying—that he would defy the command, stand up for what was right. He loved Maa so much; how could he even think about leaving her? But he just stood there, motionless, like a stone.

If Maa ever found out, it would shatter her. The man she had dedicated her entire life to—who she believed was her protector, her partner—couldn't even take a stand for their relationship. The thought that he was willing to sacrifice their love, their years of commitment, just to blackmail his own daughter was like a knife twisting in my chest.

The silence between us felt suffocating, as though the weight of his inaction was suffocating the air in the room. It was a betrayal too deep for words, and I couldn't believe he was allowing it.

I took a step back, my eyes scanning the room, feeling the weight of the moment crash over me. Everyone's gaze felt like an accusation—except for Chachu, Dadi, and Papa. Their faces were a mixture of smug satisfaction, as if they had finally won. They had pushed me into a corner, made me bend to their will, and I had no choice but to accept it.

But my heart... My heart couldn't handle it. I could feel it breaking, each piece shattering under the weight of their victory. I couldn't bear the suffocating atmosphere, the sense of defeat wrapping itself around me. Without another word, I turned and fled, running to the safety of my room, where I could hide from the world and from the pain of what they had done to me.

I slammed the door behind me, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, and I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. The tears came before I could stop them—hot and bitter, staining the fabric beneath me. I hated myself for crying, for letting them break me, but the anger, the helplessness—it all swirled inside me, a storm I couldn't control.

Why had they done this to me? Why did they think they could just decide my life for me? The weight of it all crushed me, and I felt so small, so insignificant, like I didn't matter. I couldn't even look at my father anymore. The man who had once been my hero was now the man who had abandoned me. I couldn't believe it. How could he do this? Forcing me to marry a man I didn't even know, all because of some promise to a family who never cared about my dreams, my desires, my future.

I wiped my tears, sitting up in a daze. My thoughts spiraled, running in circles, but one thought cut through it all—there was no way I could marry Nirvaan. No matter what they said, I wasn't going to let them ruin my life.

I glanced at the clock. It was late. But there was no way I could sleep. I grabbed my phone and, with trembling hands, dialed the only number that had ever given me a sense of hope— Ivaan. He had always been there for me, always understood me when no one else did. If anyone could help me now, it was him.

I stared at the phone, my finger hovering over the call button, and a part of me hesitated. But I couldn't hold it in anymore. I needed someone who understood me, someone who knew exactly how I felt—someone who could help me make sense of this madness. I dialed the number, my heart racing as I waited for the call to connect.

After a few rings, the line clicked, and I heard his voice—deep, calm, and familiar.

"Nivya? What's wrong?" Ivaan's voice was a lifeline, and hearing it made the dam inside me break. I fought to keep my voice steady, but the flood of emotions poured out, unstoppable.

"I can't do this, Ivaan," I whispered, my throat tight. "I can't marry him. I won't. They're forcing me... they're all forcing me." My voice broke on the last word, and the sobs I had been holding back broke free. I didn't care anymore. I needed someone to understand, someone who wouldn't judge me for wanting to make my own choices.

There was a long silence on the other end, and I could almost picture him, the way he would be frowning, probably running a hand through his hair like he always did when he didn't know what to say.

"Nivya..." He sighed deeply, his tone turning serious. "You don't have to go through this alone. I'll help you. Whatever you need, I'll be there."

I could feel the weight of his words, and even though I still felt so lost, hearing Ivaan's voice grounded me, like I wasn't entirely drowning. I took a shaky breath and wiped my face, trying to calm myself down.

"You don't understand," I said quietly. "This isn't just about me anymore. It's about everyone else. They'll destroy everything if I don't do what they want. I'm trapped, Ivaan. My father, my grandfather—they'll break us. They'll break Maa... they'll break me."

I could hear him breathe in sharply, and then he spoke, his voice more determined than ever. "Nivya, I'm not going to let them do that. I'll help you fight this. You're not trapped. Not if you don't want to be. We'll figure this out. We'll get you out of it. You don't have to marry Nirvaan Bhaiya."

His words, simple but full of conviction, sent a ripple of hope through me. For the first time that night, I felt like maybe I wasn't entirely alone in this.

"You promise?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if I were asking for something I didn't deserve.

"I promise," he replied firmly. "We'll take it one step at a time. But first, you need to take care of yourself. Don't make any decisions when you're this upset. Get some rest, okay?"

I sniffed, wiping my eyes again, and nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Okay. Thanks, Ivaan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to," he said softly. "I'm here for you, always."

We stayed on the line a little longer, the silence between us comforting rather than heavy. I didn't feel quite as suffocated anymore. Maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

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Kuch bhi karlo Ivaan, Bhabhi toh aapki Nivya hi banegi ^Evil laughter^

Just realized how similar names i have used, Revaan, Nirvaan and Ivaan. Two of them are inspired by my cousin and another one I searched around. Well, no worries, they sound really good.

Thankyou<3