💓

Welcoming the new year in style with you my dearest readers. Hope you have a precious 2026 ahead.

Aarna's POV

The silk of my gown sashay against the marble floor as with every step I walk down to whatever humiliation awaits me tonight. Not to mention because my life is basically one long-running soap opera with terrible writers and even worse timing I run into my diva cousins Mishka and Sanvi. Or as Dida likes to call them proudly and often "the diamonds of her family."

Every wedding, every birthday, every meal together, she'll sigh, her bony hands fluttering over Mishka's glossy hair or Sanvi's delicate wrists, before letting her sharp eyes dart toward me muttering and then there's you.

Sometimes even I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be in this metaphor.

Not gold. Not silver. Not even copper, probably coal, maybe? Ash? Whatever dirt they had to dig through to find their precious diamonds?

Yeah. That fits.

And god, do Mishka and Sanvi know it.

You can tell by the way they glide down the hallway toward me now joined at the waist like the two-headed serpent they are looking picture perfect.

Mishka's wearing this deep wine-red thing, her skin glowing, her long, dark hair spilling in perfect, soft waves down her back confirming my doubt that she sat in a salon chair for three hours to make it look that effortless. Sanvi, on the other hand, is all sharp lines and shimmering in champagne gold, her cheekbones contoured within an inch of their life, her lips glossy. The kind of girl who doesn't even have to try to catch the limelight as it just orbits her.

They're whispering something to each other as they walk, laughing softly this delicate, chiming little sound that's probably been practiced in front of mirrors until it was perfect.

Mishka's laugh halts when her eyes land on me, sweeping up and down my frame like I'm some kind of mildly interesting science experiment anyhow she recovers quickly though and plasters on a cloying, saccharine smile that could give you cavities.

"Oh! There you are."

As if she's been looking for me, but in that way you look for a cockroach just to make sure you can step on it.

Sanvi doesn't even bother with the act. She lets her dark eyes trail over me like she's assessing damage at a car accident and finding it mildly disappointing. Her lips curve, just barely. "Well," she says coolly, "at least Mami managed to find something that... flatters you."

The familiar cocktail of humiliation and fury shows up right on time like always now that I'm in a room with them.

"Wow!" I grin, matching their honey-dripping tones ounce for ounce. "You two always know just how to make a girl feel welcome."

"Don't be so sensitive, little sis." Mishka purrs, reaching up to tuck a perfectly glossy strand of hair behind her ear. "We're just saying it's... a big night. For all of us. You know how Dida gets about appearances."

Ah. Yes. Dida.

My grandmother. The original villain of this family drama.

Honestly, sometimes I think she invented the whole concept of disappointment just so she could have something to aim at me.

She's been comparing me to Mishka and Sanvi since probably before I was even born. Maybe it was the second the ultrasound tech said a child was to be born to her only son, she started shaking her head, muttering under her breath about how my parents clearly didn't try hard enough to make something... worthwhile.

And she's never let them or me forget it.

Not once.

And tonight she's probably been honing something fresh and sparkly to say about how radiant her two diamonds look and how unpolished the leftover pebble remains in comparison. Because why stick to the greatest hits when you can humiliate me with a remix?

I square my shoulders anyway.

Because if there's one thing living in this house has taught me, it's you let them see they've gotten under your skin and it's over.

So I do what I do best, fix my smile into place and step ahead to keep walking right past my dear cousins tossing over my shoulder, "See you both downstairs, hmm? Can't make Dida miss you two too much, right?"

I don't stop to see their reaction because I don't have to. I already know what it'll be. That same charring snicker from one and a bored little sniff from other as I'm barely worth the air it takes to acknowledge me.

I'm two steps away from solid ground, carefully placing my heel on each step at the stair because this gown has about six unnecessary feet of fabric trailing behind me when I sense a subtle tug at my heel.

"Shit!" I hiss under my breath as I stumble forward and can already see myself face-planting right in front of the audience with my hair coming loose all the while breaking a bone or two but a strong hand clamps around my arm just in time, steadying me with a firm grip.

"Careful, bithi!" Comes Dev's familiar voice, threaded with worry.

I whip my head around with my breath coming out in a pathetic little gasp.

He's standing there at the foot of the stairs, his brows drawn tight, his lips curved into this tiny boyish smile that seems more relieved than me.

I blink at him, sheepishly grinning even though I can feel the flush spreading down my neck.

"Thanks, Debu." I huff. "You're officially my hero for not letting me eat marble in front of the entire family. Would've been real cinematic."

"Try walking like your feet actually belong to you next time, huh?"

I scrunch my nose and stick my tongue out at him because among friends maturity is overrated.

He lets go of my arm, but not before giving it a little squeeze and then his gaze flickers over me, head to toe. His expression falters, just a second, before he clears his throat and mutters, almost like he doesn't want me to hear it, "You...bithi.. you look..."

"Bad?" I supply it with a fake-bright grin.

His head jerks up, surprised. "What?"

"Yeah yeah, it's fine." I go on, shrugging like it doesn't sting. "I know I look... you know..bad."

He stares at me for a beat longer before shaking his head, his mouth quirking in something caught between fondness and exasperation.

"Nice." He corrects me earnestly. "I was gonna say you look nice. Really nice."

"Wow. Bold of you to lie to me, Debu Gupta. That's, like, peak best friend behavior. Should I pin a medal on you for your effort?"

He just rolls his eyes, lips twitching into a flattering curve of mouth, and says, "You're impossible." under his breath before glancing away.

Before I can even decide how to process his cute reactions a startled gasp cuts through the air.

I turned my head just in time to see Vidhi Dev's little sister and my girl best friend standing a few feet away, her hand clapping dramatically over her mouth. Her kohl-lined eyes are wide and shining like she just caught me making out with her star idol.

"Oh. My. God."

"What? What happened? Is there spinach in my teeth? Did I rip the dress? Is it my eyeliner? Oh god, is it weeping already? Because if my Maa sees-"

"Noo!!" Vidhi rushes forward squealing as she grabs my shoulders. "No no no. You-you-oh my god. You look like..." Her voice drops to a reverent whisper. "An actual goddess."

I snort so hard I almost choke on my own spit. "Oh please, girl. Calm down."

"Shut up. Shut up. You look beautiful, okay? Like you're about to walk in there and burn the whole place down with just one look. That's what you look like."

That one actually gets me as I laugh genuinely letting her pull me into her signature bone-crushing hug.

Though, I don't even get to let that little warmth in my chest settle before reality comes crashing back literally as a hand clamps around my elbow hard yanking me out of my friend's arms.

"What the-?" I stumble back a step, my heel nearly catching on the hem again as the iron grip digs into my skin.

I whirl around to see who the hell thinks they can just manhandle me-because excuse you, buddy-I'm already halfway ready to snarl something... until I spot my cousin Mayur blinding my sight to ruin the scene.

His pinched face is twisted further into a disgusted sneer as his beady eyes flick between me, Vidhi, and Dev as if he just walked in on me rolling in the mud with actual pigs instead of hugging my best friend.

"You never remember they're a lowlife maid's children, do you?" He hisses under his breath.

I wrench my elbow out of his grip with more strength than even I expected. My skin's already throbbing where his fingers dug in and straightened up, because hell no am I shrinking in front of him.

"Thank you so much for reminding me, dada. I almost forgot. It's so good to have you here to help me keep track of who's worthy of existing and who isn't. Must be exhausting, you know. Walking around with all that superiority shoved so far up your-"

"Aarna!"

"What?" I snap back. "You didn't think I'd talk back? Sorry. My bad. Guess the useless one isn't allowed to have a tongue, huh?"

I can see the twitch in his jaw at that, his grip tightening on nothing now that I've shaken him off. He hates when I don't crumble. They all do.

Vidhi's standing behind me now, wide-eyed, her hands curled into tiny fists at her sides, but she doesn't say anything because she knows how this works. Debu, though steps forward.

"Mayur Babu." He says flatly. "That's enough."

My eldest cousin scoffs, his eyes flicking to Debu like he's something he scraped off his shoe. "I wasn't talking to you, bastard. Know your place."

Dev's shoulders stiffen two seconds away from launching himself at Mayur's throat.

And I... can't let that happen.

Because what Mayur wants is for him to react. To lose it. To make it easy to drag his name through the dirt in front of the family.

So I plant myself between Mayur's sneer and Dev's simmering rage squaring my shoulders and look at the former dead in the eye.

"Watch your words when you talk to my friends, Mayur Dada. Because it won't look so good for your image if I take this little conversation of ours to Baba. Will it?"

For all his big talk, he knows Baba wouldn't like this so he tries to recover from his superiority act.

"You think threatening me makes you look strong?"

"Not at all, Dada." I reply, "I think it makes me look smarter than letting you run your mouth and ruin your chances to rule the Banerjee name after my Baba."

I can actually see his nostrils flare at that. His jaw works like he's grinding his molars to dust.

God. The urge to just reach up and flick his perfect little tie out of place is so real right now.

But he exhales through his nose, straightens his collar, and takes half a step back.

"That temper of yours," He mutters, almost to himself now. "It's going to be the end of you one day, Aarna."

"Maybe," I say. "But it won't be today. So if you're done playing the self-appointed moral police, I'd like to actually enjoy the rest of my night without your claws in my arm."

With that, I turn my back on him on purpose because nothing pisses off a man like walking away from him before he decides he's done with you.

I feel his stare burning into the back of my skull as I hook my arm through Vidhi's flashing Dev a glance sideways requesting him silently to tag along and, because he's Dev, he gets it instantly as he falls into step at my other side with his hands shoved in his pockets, his long strides matching ours easily.

Vidhi finally exhales a long, shaky breath next to me, her bracelets clinking against my arm as she adjusts her grip and then, because she cannot physically hold back a thought once it's in her head she blurts out, "I knew Amma said it was going to be a big evening in the Banerjee house, but seeing you this decked up? Makes me doubt it's just about some random dinner with some visiting guests."

Vidhi's subtle observation doesn't help but make me uneasy, for she had just said out loud what I've been trying so hard not to think about since my mother started zipping me into this dress.

But I kept my face calm and chose to remain optimistic.

"Please. You know how this house is. Baba lives for these power-dinners. He's always extending his... What was it again? Connections. Networks. Ideologies. Whatever fancy word he's spinning this month." I glance sideways at her, past my own faint reflection in one of the gold-framed mirrors on the wall. "It's nothing new, babe. Just more of the same. Dinner. Handshakes. Me sitting there like a damn centerpiece and pretending I'm not choking on the hypocrisy."

Her mouth tugs down like she wants to argue but she doesn't as of now but her brother speaks up too.

"He went too far this time."

That catches me off guard just enough to look at him.

"What?" I try to sound flippant but fail because my voice cracks just a little.

Dev exhales through his nose, and for a second, he doesn't answer but then his eyes flick toward me for a heartbeat and that look on his face makes my stomach drop. "You haven't seen it yet?" He murmurs, so low I almost miss it. "Bithi... this isn't just about dinner. Not this time."

Before I can even tell him to knock it off because god knows I don't need his cryptic riddles rattling around my brain right now a sharp clack of hurried heels against marble cuts through my simmering retort, as the sibling's mother runs into us.

"Ahhh rama-rama, what is this?!" She cries before she's even fully in earshot, "How many times must I say? Don't linger in the corridors when the bell has rung already!" Her sharp eyes immediately land on Vidhi first like she just knows she's to blame and throws Dev another look so withering even I wince. "And you! You are her elder! This is how you set an example? Standing around gossiping when the whole family is waiting?"

Dev doesn't say a word but just shoves his hands deeper in his pockets and lets her yell bounce off him like he's Teflon. Vidhi, however, protests. "We weren't -"

"Shhh!" Her mother cuts her off immediately with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. "Don't even start with your excuses, Vidhu. I saw you standing here, giggling. On such an important night? Hai Bhagwan."

I can practically hear Vidhi grinding her teeth beside me, but she clamps her mouth shut.

Until the older woman's gaze lands on me and just like that, her whole demeanor softens.

"Ahhh, dear..." She clucks apologetically, "Deba Babu has been asking for you already, standing by the doors. The guests have arrived. Everybody is waiting. Hurry now, hurry! The dining room is all set, all eyes will be on you when you enter."

I flash her a polite smile and nod. "Ji. I'll... I'll head there right away."

The words continue ringing in my ears and sure enough, the second my heels click toward the dining hall, the two liveried servants on either side of the grand double doors spot me and spring into action as they each grab a gleaming brass handle and swing the huge doors open in perfect sync.

The dining table stretches forever inside in white linen and gold-rimmed plates, crystal glasses catching the glow of the chandeliers with everyone's already there.

The entire kin to be accurate as more than twenty heads turn in unison as I step inside.

My hands curl discreetly in the folds of my gown as I walk forward, slow enough to look poised but fast enough to get it over with and feel their eyes on me along with the two guests seated down the table right at Baba's right hand.

The first man older, maybe in sixties, salt-and-pepper beard watches me and doesn't even bother hiding it as his head tips slightly to the side and his lips purse ever so slightly as if I'm not quite measuring up to whatever the hell he thought he'd see.

But it's the other one who makes my stomach churn.

Beefy shoulders straining against his suit, his tie knotted just a little too loose, his posture just a little too cocky for someone sitting at my Baba's table. Crooked nose that seems to be broken more than once, probably because karma occasionally does its job but it's his lecherous eyes roving over every visible inch of me unwrapping me in his head already.

And that leering smirk makes me want to bolt or better yet stay, march right up to him to bury the heel of my shoe so deep into his stupid buttoned eyes that he cried in pain.

Just when I think maybe I can slip into my chair and pretend I'm invisible for the rest of the meal, Baba's voice calling out to me cuts through the chaos of the table like the snap of a whip.

My head jerks up instinctively and there he is at the head of the table, looking at me like I've been late to my own execution except there's something different in his tone tonight.

He's not glaring.
Not scowling.
Not pinching the bridge of his nose like he's about to go on a twenty-minute monologue about my innumerable failures.

Instead he's smiling wide or at least close to it while his fingers flick once, lazily, toward the empty chair at his right as he pulls out the heavy mahogany chair next to him himself.

His voice carried just enough for the whole table to hear, "You took long, my dear."

I blink at him, a little stunned because since when does my father pull my chair out for me like I'm some precious little princess or call me my dear in front of all these people?

When I reach the chair, Baba looks at me, his thin lips curved in that same tight, unsettling smile, and adds, "Meet our guests, beta. Bijoy Majumdar... and his son, Rehan." The words hang in the air like a bad smell as Baba gestures slightly toward the two vultures already staring at me like dinner's been served.

The older man-Bijoy, apparently-gives me this slow, deliberate nod with his lips curling into something that could almost pass for politeness and his son Rehan leans back in his chair slightly, his eyes still fixed on me. His smirk deepens into something even uglier now that my father has hand-delivered me to their side of the table like a damn platter of appetizers.

My fingers tighten around the edge of the chair as I plaster on my best brittle smile, lowering myself into the seat Baba's so kindly pulled out.

The dinner once began went on.
And on.
And on.

Like some medieval form of torture, except instead of iron maidens and racks it's small talk, clinking cutlery, and a suffocating cloud of fake laughter thick enough to choke on.

I act along with napkin in my lap, hands neatly folded when they're not pretending to be interested in the sad little pile of vegetables on my plate pretending as if I don't notice the way everyone keeps sneaking little glances at me every few minutes and don't hear the undercurrent in their voices when they say my name and pretend I don't feel the creep's gaze burning into the side of my face like a brand.

He doesn't even try to hide it every time Baba starts droning about trade alliances and joint ventures.

I jab my fork into my vegetables. Too hard, probably. The poor carrot splits right in half and skitters across my plate.
Vidhi would've snorted if she'd been here.
God, I wish she were here.

But no.
No rescue tonight.
Just me and a roomful of moronic jackals.

Baba and Bijoy are deep into some tedious discussion about port contracts and family reputations "our houses go back three generations," Bijoy says at one point like the weight of his lineage is supposed to impress me.

Sure.

I keep my eyes down, pretending to focus on my food, but really just pushing peas around my plate and counting down the minutes until dessert shows up so I can at least pretend I have a reason to keep my mouth shut.

At one point Baba actually chuckles like the devil himself caught a joke and slaps Bijoy's arm.

Somehow, dessert arrives. Saffron-soaked rasmalai and little gold-flecked bowls of kheer. The maids move around the table laying the delicate plates down.

And just when I think maybe, maybe, I can sink into my dessert and ignore the rest of the night, I hear Dida speak.

"We are grateful." She begins, her bangles chiming as she lifts her spoon just so, "to finally having such a close relationship with you, you know."

I glance up before I can stop myself, just in time to see Rehan's smirk go from bad to worse.

"Of course. We love it too. Not sure about Dad there-" he flicks his thumb carelessly at Bijoy, who does not look amused-"but me? Yeah. I do." His smile widens then, teeth flashing in the candlelight, and he leans forward just a little, elbows on the table like he owns the damn room. "Now that I look at it." He drawls, eyes sweeping over me again in that infuriating way that makes my skin crawl, "the money we're investing is nowhere close to the worth of your precious granddaughter."

My jaw actually locks because did the piece of shit just...but before I can even find my tongue to say something or anything Miksha chimes in.

Bless her.

Her chair scrapes against the floor just slightly as she turns her head sharply, eyes narrowing into two little daggers.

"What granddaughter?"

Trust Miksha to smell blood in the water.

Rehan's smirk falters for half a second, just enough to give me a flicker of petty satisfaction, but then it comes back full force, even cockier than before.

"Why... this one, of course." And then he actually nods toward me like he's just picked me off the menu.

My fork clatters against my plate as my fingers curl into fists in my lap.

"Excuse me?" Miksha's voice cuts through my inner spiral, cold and clear.
Her lip curls into a sneer that would make Dida proud some other time but not right now as the old gremlin glowers at her precious diamond in forewarning. "What the hell does he mean by that?"

For a beat no one moves. Not a fork clinks. Not a breath dares to disturb the silence hanging over the table.

Everyone is watching Miksha.
Everyone except Rehan.
Because Rehan? That smug bastard?

He's still watching me as if he's already slipped the noose around my neck and is simply waiting for someone to kick the stool out from under me.

"Rehan here," Dida announces, almost conversational, her gaze still fixed on Miksha like a cobra pinning a mouse, "is looking forward to marrying our Aarna."

What.

What did she just say?

I blink once.
Twice.
And before I can stop myself, before my mind even catches up, my chair screeches back against the floor and I'm on my feet with shock and mortification crashing over me so fast and so hard my knees wobble. The blood drains from my face and floods somewhere hot and prickly under my skin, and I'm painfully aware of every single pair of eyes in this room boring into me like bullets.

The words tumble out of my mouth before I even think to temper them.
"What?"

It comes out high and almost breathless.
I hate how small it sounds.
I hate it.

Dida's gaze finally leaves Miksha and settles on me and her smile doesn't even falter. If anything, it widens as she tips her head as if I'm the one being unreasonable.

"Sit, Aarna," She gestures, like she's addressing a child throwing a tantrum.
"Don't make a scene."

Oh.
Oh no.
Oh hell no.

She thinks this isn't already a scene?

I glance down the table at Baba, desperate for-what?
For him to say something?
For him to shut this down?
For even a hint of his usual disapproval?

But no.
No, Baba just sits there, leaning back in his chair, one hand draped casually over the armrest, that same tight little smile on his face as if Dida just announced we'd sold a particularly lucrative plot of land.

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I force myself to take a step back from the table to keep my voice from cracking when I speak again.

"You-" I swallow, hard. "You cannot be serious."

That earns me a sharp, warning look from Baba but I don't care anymore.

Because my life?

My future?

Is apparently being handed over to the lecherous, crooked-nosed vermin sitting two seats down from me without so much as a please.

And that?

That is something I will make a scene over.

I catch Rehan's eye then and I swear to god if looks could kill, Rehan Majumdar would already be a smoking crater in the middle of my grandmother's precious Persian rug.

But instead?
I just stand there.
My heart hammering.
My breath shaking.

Because for the first time tonight, the brittle little smile refuses to come.

And I don't know whether to run or burn this whole table to the ground because from what it seems my gilded cage was about to become a very real, very terrifying prison.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Lots of Love,

ANKITA