"Never have I ever attended a wedding as a guest and left as the groom."
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*Takes a sip*
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Join Raahil and Niyati, who were brought together by fate but stayed together by choice, in their heart felt journey filled with love, passion, light and...
Oh, goddamn My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another Oh, I can’t Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I’m covered in you.
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I had always considered myself to be a feminist. I’m all for not waiting for the prince or the knight to show up to save the princess and doing it yourself. Being your own saviour.
But right now, as I was getting dressed for my haldi ceremony, I could really use a prince or a knight or anyone, really, who would take me away from here. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, a lot. They are the reason I’m marrying that moron in the first place but would that love be enough to help me pass my entire life with him? I honestly didn’t know.
Every second felt like I was getting closer to my death, not the type of death where your heart stops beating but the kind of death where you are alive but you lose the will to live.
“You can open your eyes now, princess.”
I heard the makeup artist. We were waiting for the eyeliner to dry. I got up from the vanity chair and went to stand in front of the full length mirror.
I had decided to ditch the yellow theme for my outfit and chose a beautiful red patch work skirt and a blouse. The blouse was kind of halter neck with a scalloped design at the end, accentuating my waist.
My hair which was beautifully curled was held up in a pony tail, with baby breaths adorning around the tie. A small maang tika in the partition to go with the choker I wore around my neck.
My make up was light, considering everyone will be applying haldi anyway. Light pink lips with similar blush and eye makeup and a touch of liner.
I turned around and thanked my makeup artist and my stylist. They really did a wonderful job. I wish I felt just as good as I looked.
They all left and now I was alone, waiting for my cue to go down for the ceremony. My solitude was disturbed by a gentle knock and as I went to open the door I was met with the person I least expected to be standing at my doorsteps.
Raahil, one of my brother’s best friend. I’ve heard of his name from the countless stories my brother told me about their days in the boarding school in Bangalore, where they met. He also told me, like a proud father, about Raahil’s achievements as one of the world’s leading photographers, specially at a young age of 27.
Gods really do have favourites, don’t they? Because not only did they bless him with immense talent but he also won the gene lottery apparently.
He looked devastatingly handsome with sun kissed skin contrasting his raven hair and sharp features, a jawline that could cut a diamond. The sharpness of it all was balanced out by his soft brown eyes. I’ve always liked brown eyes, it’s simplicity was alluring to me.
