Page 120 of Everything She Wanted

I loved the beauty of the ceremonies, but more than anything, I just wondered what it felt like to be that loved. To have someone look at me as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world. Now I feel like I finally found it.

The elusive, fairy-tale love.

What all the Bollywood songs are about.

What Rumi wrote endless poems about.

Except it isn’t the man I’m gracefully stepping toward, who’s grinning at me like I’m a prized possession rather than a partner. No, it’s the man I brashly sent away when he confessed his love for me.

I didn’t say it, but I wish I had.

I say it now in the depths of my heart, wishing he could hear me.

I love you too, Nick, so much. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.

Even if it wasn’t meant to be, I want him to know how I feel, and now I will never get the chance to tell him.

I sealed my fate and his by walking away.

We’re at the front of the hall too quickly, and Aman is placing my hand in Eshaan’s.

“Awww,” the crowd says in unison.

Shaan intertwines our fingers, and I resist the urge to pull away. His hand feels foreign, cold, like a death grip.

I look up to see my mom smiling at me from her table in the front and wiping a tear from her eye. I hope I smile back, that I’m still capable of it.

Pretending got me here, and pretending will get me through this. Just a few more hours, then I can break down, I promise myself.

My uncles, guy-cousins and Aman come up to do Eshaan’s shagun. I pull my hand away from his so he can receive their blessing, as they drape a red scarf onto his shoulders and into his lap. I look down but I can’t ignore the significance of what’s happening and what this all means. My eldest Mama Ji takes the role of my dad, placing a gold kara on Eshaan’s wrist and feeding him a sweet, as is tradition, while I try to ease my rising panic.

His mom, aunts, girl-cousins—including Anjali—and Dadi Ji come up behind us shortly after. I sit there and numbness fills me, even as his mom gives me her blessing with pride and hugs me close, like I’m the daughter-in-law she’s always dreamed of, instead of the opposite. She covers my head with the red bridal chunni, my official welcome and acceptance into their family, and then feeds me a sweet too.

His mom hands Eshaan some brilliant red sindoor and he turns to me, applying the powder to my forehead and into the part in my hair, marking me as his bride and soon-to-be wife. This can’t be happening, but it is.

The only time I’m comforted is when Eshaan’s Dadi Ji is pushed up to us in her wheelchair. She’s so weak and frail now, but she still lifts her hands up to touch our heads in blessing, and we get up to touch her feet to show our respect.

I look in her kind eyes, and they say everything I need to hear. “Putt, sab theek ho jayega.” She tells me everything will be okay.

I’m not sure how anything will ever be okay again. Even so, I cling to her words as Eshaan is before me on one knee. I should be looking at his face, but I’m scanning the room, looking for the only face I want to see: Nick’s. Wishing that he could do what I would never be able to—stand up for our love—but only the eyes of the endless crowd stare back. My left hand trembles as Eshaan takes it, so he tightens his hold to stop the movement. It looks gentle and caring, but it’s like a vise grip. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds it too strongly in place. I can barely move it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he whispers before he starts sliding the ring on my finger. It inches closer to my knuckle, but it doesn’t feel like a ring at all—it’s a noose around my neck. He pulls it over my knuckle and turns to smile at the crowd, finally releasing my hand. I bring my other hand to my mouth and let out a sob as I stare at it. The ring is over-the-top, like everything else this evening, and something I never would have chosen for myself. A two-carat diamond surrounded by a smaller ring of diamonds, and then two thin bands of diamonds.

It’s a dead weight that’s already dragging me down. I sense the envious glares of other women, but it doesn’t bring me even an ounce of pride or satisfaction. I got what I wanted, but it’s so shallow and empty. A beautiful cover to an empty existence. A mirage, when I got to experience the real thing, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Everyone must think I’m just emotional rather than a hot mess, questioning my life decisions.

Eshaan pulls me up from the seat as the guests erupt in applause, and then he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it.

We’re swarmed by people and lost in a sea of congratulations until Anjali pulls me aside.

“Welcome to the fam, Nish.” She puts her arm around my shoulder and gives me a knowing look. “You have no idea what you just signed up for.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I say as I look around at the opulence and Eshaan eating up all the attention like it’s his ceremony and not ours.

“Come on, let’s get a drink.” She leads me to the bar where I intend to drink my way to salvation. The first sip is bitter and tastes like regret.

The rest of the evening is a blur, where I simply do what I’m told. It’s what I imagine a near-death experience to be like. I know what’s happening around me, but it’s not me experiencing it.