The wedding day dawned bright and auspicious in Disha’s hometown, with the air filled with the scent of marigolds and incense. The mandap was beautifully decorated with fresh flowers, colorful drapes, and twinkling lights. Relatives bustled around, laughing and chatting, while Disha sat in the bridal room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her red bridal lehenga was heavy with intricate zari work and embroidery, the dupatta draped modestly over her head. Mehendi patterns covered her hands and feet in dark, beautiful swirls—symbols of joy that felt like chains on her skin. Beneath the layers, the faint brand on her hip from months ago seemed to pulse with anticipation.

Her mother adjusted the maang tikka on her forehead, tears of happiness in her eyes. “Beta, aaj tumhari zindagi ka sabse khush din hai. Aryan bahut achha ladka hai. Tum hamesha khush rahogi.” (Beta, today is the happiest day of your life. Aryan is a very good boy. You will always stay happy.)