EYES THAT BETRAYED ME

The wedding was over.

The rituals were done.

The guests cheered, the music played, and laughter echoed all around me.

But I felt nothing.

I sat there, my body rigid, my mind miles away from the celebration unfolding before me. The weight of the Thali around my bride's neck felt heavier than it should. It was as if each knot I had tied had bound me to something I could never escape.

Everything around me blurred—faces, voices, lights.

I could hear the congratulations, the blessings, the joy in everyone's voices.

But none of it reached me.

None of it felt real.

Because my soul?

It was still waiting for Yadhana.

A lump formed in my throat, my chest tightening painfully.

I couldn't do this.

I needed to get out.

Just for a moment.

Pushing myself up from my seat, I turned away without a word. I didn't glance at my so-called wife, didn't acknowledge the curious stares following my sudden departure.

I just walked.

I didn't know where I was going.

Maybe the washroom.

Maybe somewhere quieter.

Maybe just anywhere but here.

Each step I took felt heavier, like I was dragging myself through something I didn't want to be part of.

Just as I reached the hallway—

A voice called out.

"Yuvaa!"

The firm, familiar voice cut through the fog in my mind, but I barely reacted.

I heard him.

But his voice felt distant.

Like everything else—his voice, the guests, the priest's chants—none of it felt real.

I kept walking.

"Just keep moving."

"Just get this over with."

But then—

A firm grip closed around my wrist.

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Karthik stood beside me, his eyes searching my face, his brows furrowed in concern.

He saw it.

He always could.

The storm raging inside me.

The silent war I was fighting with myself.

And the look in his eyes told me he wasn't going to let this go.

"Where the hell are you going?" His voice was lower now, urgent.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

I shook my head once—a weak attempt to dismiss him.

But Karthik didn't buy it.

He gripped my shoulder, his voice growing even quieter.

"I saw your face, man. You froze. You looked like you saw a ghost. What happened?"

A ghost.

A ghost.

I inhaled sharply, my fingers twitching at my sides.

Because he wasn't wrong.

That's exactly what I had seen.

But how could I say it?

How could I tell him that I had just seen Yadhana standing in front of me?

That she had been right there, wearing the same wedding saree I had once bought for her?

That she had smiled at me as if she had never left?

That I had waited—desperately, foolishly—for her to sit beside me, for her to take her place as my bride…

But she never did.

Even now—

I still felt like she should have been the one sitting beside me.

I clenched my jaw.

I couldn't say it.

Because if I did—

It would make it too real.

I forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to push the words out.

"I just needed some air," I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion.

Karthik's jaw tightened. His grip on my shoulder did too.

"Bullshit. Don't lie to me, Yuvaa. I know you."

I exhaled, shaking my head again.

But the truth was—I wasn't lying.

Because I didn't know what had happened either.

Had my mind played tricks on me?

Had I imagined her?

Had grief twisted itself into a cruel illusion, making me see what I so desperately wanted?

Or…

Had she really been there?

Watching me.

Smiling at me.

Saying goodbye.

A sharp ache spread through my chest.

I turned away from Karthik, my voice cold, detached.

"Just leave it, Karthik."

For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't speak.

Then, slowly, he let go of my wrist.

But he didn't look convinced.

And deep down, I knew he wouldn't let this go so easily.

Without another word, I turned and walked toward the washroom, locking the door behind me.

.

.

.

The moment I was alone, I gripped the edge of the sink, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

The cold marble beneath my fingers felt solid—grounding me. Barely.

But my mind?

My mind was elsewhere.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

But the moment I did—

I saw her again.

Yadhana.

Smiling at me.

Wearing the wedding saree.

Standing just inches away.

So close… yet untouchable.

My chest tightened painfully, my fingers curling into fists.

"Why are you here, baby? Why now?"

I knew she wouldn't answer.

She never would.

Because she wasn't really here.

And yet—

She felt more real than anything else in my life right now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my eyes open, looking into the mirror.

Only my reflection stared back.

And I had never looked more broken.

.

.

.

After a few minutes, I splashed cold water on my face before forcing myself to step out of the washroom.

As I walked back toward the mandap, the noise of the wedding hall grew louder—cheers, laughter, music.

It all felt like a blur.

Like a world I didn't belong to anymore.

Then—

A voice stopped me.

"Yuvaa, where did you go?"

I turned to see my parents standing there, their eyes laced with worry.

"You disappeared in the middle of the function, son," My father said, his brows furrowing.

"Is everything alright?"

I clenched my jaw, forcing a small, weak smile.

"I just needed a minute, Pa. That's all."

My mother's face softened, but she didn't look convinced.

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on my cheek.

"Yuvaa…" Her voice was soft, hesitant.

"Are you happy?"

Happy?

The word felt so foreign to me now.

How was I supposed to answer that?

How was I supposed to tell her that I felt nothing but emptiness?

That I had just stood in the washroom, hallucinating my dead love?

That no matter how many people blessed this marriage—

I was still waiting for someone who would never come back?

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

"Of course, Ma."

She smiled softly.

But her eyes—

Her eyes told me she knew the truth.

She knew I was lying.

But she wouldn't push.

Not today.

Instead, she simply sighed, squeezing my hand before nodding toward the mandap.

"Come, son. The guests are waiting."

I nodded once, adjusting my sherwani before following her back.

The photo session had begun.

I sat beside my bride.

The photographer positioned himself in front of us, adjusting his camera. His assistant moved the lights, giving quick instructions.

The guests gathered around, preparing for the group photos.

I sat there, staring blankly ahead.

I wasn't here.

I was still stuck there.

Somewhere in the past.

Somewhere with her.

Then—

The photographer's voice broke through the noise.

"Groom sir, please look at your bride."

I turned my head.

And that was when I saw them.

Her eyes.

A sharp jolt shot through my chest.

I froze.

For a moment, the entire world disappeared.

I didn't see the mandap.

I didn't hear the voices.

I only saw her eyes.

Eyes that weren't hers—

But looked exactly like hers

Yuvaa's POV 

"No."

"No, this isn't possible."

I stared, my breath catching in my throat, my hands clenched tightly on my lap.

How?

How could her eyes be the same?

The shape.

The depth.

The way they seemed to hold secrets only I could understand.

It wasn't just a resemblance.

It was her.

But it wasn't.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I felt my pulse hammering against my ribs. My fingers twitched slightly, the weight of realization sinking into my bones.

Something was different.

The eyelashes.

Yadhana's lashes had been longer.

More delicate.

My mind, ever cruel, threw memories at me—fragments of a past I had tried to bury.

I could still picture it—

The way she used to blink rapidly after washing her face, droplets clinging to the tips of her lashes, making them look impossibly longer.

The way she would stand in front of the mirror, her fingers carefully applying mascara, before turning to me with a playful pout.

"Do I look pretty?"

And every single time, without fail, I had answered—

"You don't need mascara, baby. Your lashes are already perfect."

But this woman—

She wasn't Yadhana.

No matter how much my mind wanted to believe it, no matter how much my heart screamed at me to hold onto the illusion—

She wasn't her.

A sharp, suffocating weight pressed against my chest.

I felt a cold sweat forming at the back of my neck, my vision blurring for a second before snapping back into focus.

My fingers curled into fists. My nails dug into my palms.

"Shit, what am I thinking? Snap out of it, Yuvaa."

I forced myself to blink.

To breathe.

To look away.

But the moment I turned, the camera flashed, capturing a moment that wasn't real.

The photographer's voice echoed in the background, giving instructions.

The guests clapped, their voices filled with laughter and celebration.

My parents beamed, their joy radiating like the warmth of the sacred fire still burning behind us.

And I?

I sat there.

Frozen.

Numb.

Dying inside.