A MOMENT OF JOY, A LIFETIME OF PAIN

THE WEDDING RECEPTION

The atmosphere was alive with music, laughter, and celebration. The moment I stepped into the reception hall, the DJ played a Tamil wedding song, making my entrance feel even more special. The rhythmic beats blended seamlessly with the cheerful chatter of the guests, filling the air with warmth and energy.

Almost immediately, the camera crew rushed forward, flashes bursting around me as they captured my every move. The videographer adjusted his lens, making sure he recorded every detail of this so-called perfect day.

Everything was grand. Exactly how a wedding should be.

And yet, something inside me felt distant.

Then, without warning, the music shifted.

A familiar, upbeat tune blasted through the speakers.

My friends suddenly took over the stage, their excitement infectious.

"This performance is dedicated to our groom!" One of them shouted.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Before I could react, my friends broke into a perfectly choreographed dance. Guests clapped along, laughter echoed across the hall, and the whole venue seemed to pulse with life.

I stood there, watching, their enthusiasm momentarily pulling me away from the emptiness in my chest.

One of my friends grinned and reached for my hand.

"Come on, man! It's your wedding! You have to dance! This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment—you can't just stand there!"

The others joined in, chanting my name, urging me. Their joy was contagious.

So, I gave in.

I danced.

I laughed.

For the first time in a long while, I let go—just for that fleeting moment.

But then… something shifted.

A strange, heavy sensation crept over me.

My vision blurred slightly, my breath caught in my throat, and suddenly, it felt like the world around me was spinning too fast.

Then, a voice broke through the chaos.

"Sweetheart."

I turned, my mother standing just a few feet away.

Her expression was soft but laced with concern.

"That's enough for now," She said gently. "It's time. We need to go to the mandap."

I swallowed, nodding as I tried to shake off the unease.

As my friends continued celebrating, I followed my mother toward the wedding stage.

The mandap was set, the sacred fire flickering in the middle, its golden glow illuminating the entire hall.

I sat down beside my brother-in-law, the priest motioning for us to begin the rituals.

"Son, are you alright?" My mother's voice was barely above a whisper.

I blinked, still feeling a little off, but I nodded.

She studied me for a moment before reaching out, cupping my cheek.

"Okay. Just don't push yourself too hard. If you need me, I'm here, alright?"

A small kiss on my forehead. A touch of warmth.

I forced a faint smile.

But my mind was somewhere else.

Because something had happened—something before I stepped onto the mandap.

And I couldn't shake it.

Flashback…

I was dancing. Laughing. Letting myself be carried by the moment.

Then—my eyes drifted toward something in the distance.

The wedding welcome board.

My body went still.

My heart pounded.

The world around me faded.

I stared.

I kept staring.

Because the name I was looking for—her name—wasn't there.

It should have been.

It had to be.

But instead, I saw something else. Something that shouldn't have existed.

WELCOME TO THE

WEDDING OF

YUVAANESH & AGATHA

FEBRUARY 20, 2020

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my chest.

"No. No, this isn't happening."

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I took a shaky step back, my breathing turning shallow.

"Where are you, baby? Where are you?"

The words left my lips in a desperate whisper.

My vision blurred. My pulse pounded in my ears. My hands curled into fists.

"Please, someone stop this. This wedding can't happen. It shouldn't happen. I don't want this. This isn't what I wanted—this isn't how it was supposed to be!"

The walls of the hall seemed to close in on me.

Then, suddenly—

A shadow moved toward me.

A pair of hands gripped my shoulders, firm but gentle.

"Sweetheart."

The voice was warm. Familiar.

I blinked rapidly, my vision still spinning.

Then, I saw her.

My mother.

She was standing in front of me, worry etched deep into her features.

Her hands squeezed my shoulders, grounding me.

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you alright?" Her voice was soothing, steady. "Come back to me."

I swallowed, my breath still uneven.

I tried to speak, but only a mumble left my lips.

"Argh… yeah… I'm okay, Ma…"

She sighed softly, brushing my hair back.

"Oh, my love," She whispered, her voice filled with something deeper than just concern.

"Don't push yourself, okay? After the ceremony, we'll go home. Just hold on a little longer."

Then, without another word, she wrapped her arms around me.

A hug.

A simple, warm, motherly hug.

She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.

She just held me.

And for a second, I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into that comfort.

A single moment of peace.

A single moment where I wasn't falling apart.

"Alright," She said after a while, pulling back slightly.

"Let's go. It's time."

I nodded.

She patted my cheek one last time before turning to my friends.

"Enough now," She said, her voice light but firm.

"It's time to head to the mandap."

Yuvaa's POV

This is me. The broken, fragile side of me.

This illness—it has been with me for years.

Ever since my life changed forever.

Ever since I lost her.

The moment she left, everything fell apart.

There was a time when I believed in healing.

That if I tried hard enough, fought long enough, I could save the people I loved.

I was wrong.

I thought I had saved her.

I thought I had cured her.

But in the end… I couldn't even hold on to her.

She slipped away.

And I lost myself with her.

That's why I walked away from my profession.

Not as a lecturer.

But as a healer.

I had spent years believing I could take away pain. That I could mend wounds, erase scars.

But I was the reason she was gone.

I had promised to heal her, to protect her.

And in the end, I had failed.

That's why, five years later, I was standing at the altar.

Not for her.

Not for the only person I had ever truly loved.

For someone else.

For a future I had no faith in.

A life I had no desire for.

But one I had chosen.

For them.

For her.

For a promise I could never break.