Page 97 of Protect my Heart

ANIKA

It must be the first time in the history of weddings that the bride’s going to the groom’s house. Well, technically I’m not taking a baraat, but it does feel like I’m storming my own wedding.

Mumma’s already left hours ago—she wanted to help with the arrangements. We’re not contributing financially to the wedding, of course. Aarav refused even the mention of it. So Mumma, being Mumma, found her own way to be useful. “Helping decorate your sasural counts too,” she’d said before rushing out with a thaal in one hand and a packet of mogras in the other.

Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck here with the makeup didi for what feels like an eternity. My cheeks hurt from smiling and pretending I’m calm. But the truth is, my stomach’s been flipping like a gymnast on Red Bull since morning. I look at my reflection; I look pretty, and I know I am going to blow Aarav's mind even though I chose a simple red saree and not a heavy lehenga (I wanted to be comfortable; it's my wedding after all). Didi applies a bindi in the center of my forehead and exclaims, "Done." And now that she is finally done, I thank her a little too quickly, down a glass of water, and rush to lock up the house.

I pause for a moment at the door. Inhale. Exhale. It's going to be alright. And then I shut it. As I slide into the middle seat of Aarav’s Innova, I smile to myself as I feel a tug at my saree from behind. “Driver bhaiya,” I say, sitting up straighter, still grinning like an idiot because how can’t I, “I think you have rats in your car.”

He chuckles, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “Don’t think so, ma’am.”

I roll my eyes and reach for my phone. There’s a ping from Aarav.

Aarav:

You look stunning.

I smile instinctively, thumbs tapping.

Me:

You haven’t even seen me.

The reply comes intwo seconds.

Aarav:

Don’t need to. That’s a fact.

A blush rises on my cheeks, and I grin, kicking the back of the seat lightly in mock frustration—and the carjerksto a stop.

My phone flies out of my hand and lands on the floor near the front seat.

“What the hell—” I begin, heart racing.

My eyes lift to the road. A man is standing in front of the car.

His face is covered. His body was still. I can’t see his face; it’s covered with a mask. He’s wearing all black. His muscles could crush me. Fear grips me, and my pulse stutters.

The door to my side yanks open.

A second man drags me out. “What are you—leave me!” I scream, thrashing in his grip. But he’s strong. Too strong. The driver stays still. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

“Help me! What are you doing?!” I scream again, breath heaving, voice cracking.

I’m trying to dig my heels in, grab the edge of anything,anything, but nothing works. The man drags me to the other man, who was standing in the middle of the road. He pulls off the mask, and I feel my body go cold. “Gaurav?” I whisper, the name catching in my throat like glass.

The man holding me removes his mask too.Kabir.I stumble. No. This can’t be happening. I thought I was done seeing these two. Shit. Is he the one behind all this? But why?

“You?” I choke out. “You? What is wrong with you?” I yell, trying to remove Kabir's hold on me. Gaurav steps closer. His smile is twisted.

“You’re mine, Anika. You can’t marry anyone else.”

My face twists in disgust. How can someone think like that? And why? I want tovomit.

“You’re myhalf-brother, you sick—” He leans in,sniffingme like some rabid animal, and I jerk my head away, bile rising in my throat.

“That won’t stop me,” he sneers. His hand lifts to touch my face.