WHEN THE PAST STANDS BEFORE YOU

The wedding hall buzzed with life—music, chatter, laughter. The scent of fresh jasmine and sandalwood filled the air, blending with the sweet aroma of incense. Cameras flashed, capturing fleeting moments of joy, while my parents stood beside me, their faces glowing with pride.

To the world, this was a day of celebration.

To me, it was nothing but an obligation.

I sat at the mandap, my hands resting on my lap, fingers curled into tight fists. The fire flickered before me, casting golden reflections on the polished marble floor.

My bride was supposed to arrive any moment.

I should have felt something—anticipation, excitement, maybe even nervousness.

But I felt nothing.

Nothing but the weight of my past.

I exhaled sharply, my patience thinning.

"Is she taking her sweet time getting ready?"

"Or does she, too, feel like a prisoner in this marriage?"

A bitter thought slipped into my mind. Maybe, just maybe, she was as reluctant as I was. Maybe, like me, she wished she were standing beside someone else today.

For a fleeting second, I almost wished she would run away.

That would be easier.

That would free me.

But fate wasn't that kind.

And then—

Music filled the air.

A Tamil wedding song. Loud. Cheerful.

I frowned.

Someone was dancing

Why?

I clenched my jaw. This isn't a festival. Just get on with it.

I was about to snap at someone when Karthik, my childhood friend, leaned closer with a smirk.

"Wow, your fiancée looks gorgeous, man."

And just like that—

My world stopped.

I turned my head slowly, hesitantly.

And the moment my eyes found her—

My heart collapsed.

She stood there, wrapped in silk, adorned in gold, her delicate features glowing under the wedding lights.

But it wasn't the dress.

It wasn't the jewellery.

It was her eyes.

Deep. Intense. Unforgettable.

The same eyes that once held my entire world.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled tighter into fists.

"No… no, it can't be."

A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, my pulse roaring in my ears.

"You're here, baby? You came for me?"

My entire body trembled. My heart pounded violently, each beat slamming against my ribcage.

But she wasn't disappearing.

She wasn't an illusion.

She was real.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Because her eyes—her damn eyes—they looked exactly like hers.

The shape. The depth. The way they gleamed under the lights, holding secrets, holding stories.

It was her.

Or at least… it felt like her.

"Am I dreaming? Is fate playing a cruel joke?"

I couldn't sit still.

I stood up.

Ignoring the gasps, ignoring the murmurs, ignoring the burning stares of the guests, I walked toward her.

Toward the woman who had just stolen my breath.

The moment I reached her, my body moved on its own.

I took her hand.

And without a word—

I danced.

I didn't think.

I didn't question.

For the first time in years, I let go.

As I watched her smile, my heart ached.

"Is she really back?"

"Has she come back to me?"

"Can fate truly be this kind?"

Her lips curved into a teasing smirk.

And then—she spoke.

"I thought you wouldn't dance with me."

Her voice.

That voice.

That voice wasn't hers.

My world shattered.

The illusion crumbled.

My breath staggered. My grip on her hand loosened.

"No… no, this isn't right."

"What a shame, Yuvaa."

"You really thought she came back?"

"You thought fate would be kind to you?"

"Pathetic."

The hall spun around me. The weight of reality crashed down.

Before I could react, a firm hand landed on my shoulder.

"Hey, buddy, why are you standing here like a snowman? Come on, let's get you to the mandap."

Karthik's voice barely registered.

I barely registered anything.

All I could see were those eyes—eyes that belonged to someone I lost forever.

And then—

Karthik's expression changed.

His smirk faded.

He saw it.

He knew.

His hand gripped my shoulder tightly.

"Yuvaa…" His voice was low, serious.

"What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

I couldn't speak.

I couldn't breathe.

A single, broken whisper escaped—

"Karthik… I… I thought it was her."

Silence.

Karthik inhaled sharply.

Then—without hesitation—he grabbed both my arms and shook me.

"What the hell are you saying, Yuvaa? No. It's not her. Do you hear me? It's not Yadhana."

I flinched.

His grip on me tightened.

"She is gone." His voice was firm, desperate.

"It's been five years, Yuvaa. Five damn years. Yadhana is not coming back. She is never coming back."

"And you… you are still here."

The words sliced through me like daggers.

He wasn't done.

"You need to move on. You need to let go."

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to deny it.

But I couldn't.

Because he was right.

And I hated him for it.

Slowly—shakily—I nodded.

Not because I wanted to.

But because I had no choice.

I turned my back on Karthik.

And I walked back to the mandap.

A few moments later, my bride arrived.

She walked toward me, slow and graceful, her lips curving into a soft, hopeful smile.

But I didn't return it.

I didn't even see her.

Because even as she stood beside me—

My heart was still with Yadhana.

And it always would be.

Because even as she stood before me— 

My heart… 

Was still with Yadhana. 

And it always would be. 

Yuvaa's POV 

The priest's voice echoed through the mandap, his rhythmic chants guiding us through the sacred rituals. The warmth of the sacred fire flickered before me, its golden glow illuminating the stage. Around us, the guests watched in quiet reverence, the weight of tradition thick in the air.

But I barely heard anything.

Everything felt distant—like I was watching a scene unfold in someone else's life.

The heavy garland rested around my neck, the weight of it pressing against my chest. Flower petals rained down upon us, the guests clapping, voices murmuring words of blessing and joy.

But none of it reached me.

I was here, yet I wasn't.

Because my soul was trapped elsewhere—in a past I never wanted to let go of.

A love I refused to bury.

A life I was supposed to have.

I exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the suffocating weight in my chest. But it refused to ease, tightening with every second that passed.

Then, my bride extended her hands toward me, palms upturned, waiting for me to take them.

I hesitated.

For the first time, I truly looked at her.

Her hands trembled slightly, waiting for mine. She must have been nervous too.

But I felt nothing.

Not warmth.

Not connection.

Nothing.

Even as I slowly placed my hands over hers, something inside me recoiled.

Her fingers were warm. Soft.

But they weren't hers.

They weren't Yadhana's.

The moment our skin touched, a sharp, searing pang shot through my chest, as if my own heart was rejecting this very moment.

A quiet gasp escaped me.

I forced myself to lift my gaze and look at her.

And then—

My world stopped.

Because suddenly—

I wasn't looking at my bride anymore.

I was looking at her.

Yadhana.

She stood before me, dressed in the same wedding saree I had once chosen for her years ago.

Adorned in the same jewellery she had tried on, laughing in front of the mirror as she twirled playfully.

Her dark, mesmerizing eyes locked onto mine, filled with something unspoken. Something deep.

Something I had lost.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands trembling against my bride's.

"This isn't real… This isn't possible…"

And yet—

She was there.

Standing right in front of me.

Alive.

Beautiful.

Just as I had always imagined she would be on our wedding day.

The sacred fire flickered between us, casting its glow upon her face, her features as delicate as ever.

And then—she smiled.

A soft, knowing smile.

A smile meant only for me.

The world around me blurred.

The wedding hall, the guests, the priest, even the woman sitting beside me—they all faded into nothingness.

There was only her.

My Yadhana.

She looked at me like she had never left.

Like she was waiting.

Like she had always been waiting.

My heart pounded violently against my ribs, my pulse racing.

"Is this real?"

"A hallucination?"

"Or… did she come back?"

I could hear the priest speaking, instructing me on what to do next, but his words meant nothing.

Because all I could see was her.

All I could feel was her.

I stared at her in shock, waiting for her to move.

Waiting for her to sit beside me.

She should sit, right?

This was her place.

She was my bride.

She had come back for me—so why was she still standing?

Why wasn't she coming closer?

My fingers twitched slightly.

"Why are you still standing, baby? Come… sit beside me. This is our wedding, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to say her name.

To call her to me.

But the words never came out.

Because even as I watched her—she never moved.

She just stood there.

Watching me.

Smiling.

Like she was here to witness the wedding—not to be in it.

A sharp pang shot through my chest, my breath faltering.

"No… no, why aren't you sitting?"

"Why aren't you coming to me?"

I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists as a terrifying realization settled in.

She wasn't going to sit.

She wasn't going to take her place beside me.

Because she never could.

Because this wasn't her wedding.

Because she was never meant to be here.

A deep, unbearable ache spread through my chest, my body stiffening with the force of it.

The priest's voice cut through my haze, dragging me back to reality.

I forced myself to blink, my vision hazy.

Slowly, I turned my head toward my actual bride.

She was sitting beside me now, her expression expectant, waiting for me to continue.

I swallowed hard.

A sacred yellow thread—the Thali—was placed into my hands.

I stared at it.

My fingers curled around the thread, trembling slightly.

This was it.

The final step.

The moment that would bind me to this woman forever.

But my heart—my entire being—was still looking at Yadhana.

Still waiting for her.

Still longing for her.

I turned back to her, desperate.

She was still there.

Still watching.

Still smiling.

Still not moving.

And it was then that I knew.

She wasn't here to be my bride.

She was here to say goodbye.

A sharp pain tore through my heart, like something inside me was fracturing beyond repair.

"Why are you smiling like that, baby?"

"Why are you looking at me like you're leaving me all over again?"

I gritted my teeth, my hands tightening around the Thali.

The priest repeated his instructions.

The guests waited in silence.

And Yadhana just stood there.

Watching.

Smiling.

Waiting.

My hands trembled as I slowly reached forward.

My movements were mechanical, robotic—like I wasn't even in control of my own body.

And as I tied the Thali around my bride's neck—

My gaze never left her.

Yadhana.

The love of my life.

The woman I was supposed to spend forever with.

The one who should have been sitting beside me.

The one meant to wear this Thali.

The final knot secured, and the hall erupted in cheers.

My mother sobbed in joy.

My father beamed with pride.

Relatives clapped, friends cheered, the temple bells rang in celebration.

And in the midst of it all—

She was gone.

I blinked.

My heart dropped.

Yadhana had disappeared.

Like she was never there.

Like she had been nothing more than an illusion—a cruel trick played by my own mind.

But I knew the truth.

She had come.

She had watched.

She had smiled at me one last time.

And now—

She was gone.

Forever.

The woman beside me—the woman I had just married—looked up at me with warmth, hope, expectation.

But I didn't return her gaze.

I couldn't.

Because even though my hands now belonged to someone else—

My heart never did.

It was still waiting.

Still longing for the woman who would never come back.

Because even though the world now saw me as a married man—

I still felt like the loneliest person alive.

And nothing—

Not this marriage.

Not this night.

Not the blessings of a hundred people—

Would ever change that.

Because my heart?

Would always belong to Yadhana.

And nothing in this lifetime—not even death itself—could take that away