The Forgotten Vows

"Some promises don't need remembering to be fulfilled - they live in your bones." --- 🕯️ Thirteen Years Ago - Sheesh Mahal, LucknowThe temple courtyard glowed with the soft orange hues of dusk, marigold garlands draping the carved pillars, and incense dancing in the air. Bells chimed gently, mingling with hushed laughter. Two children stood before the small sanctum - she in a crimson lehenga too large for her tiny frame, he in a cream-colored kurta, nervously gripping a string of mango leaves. "Don't move so much, Arnav!" whispered Khushi, trying to balance the garland in her hand. "I'm not moving! You're the one stepping on my foot!" he snapped back, making a face. From the side, Buaji chuckled. "Hai Re Nandkishore! Look at these two fighting already. "Bauji" Khushi tugged at the oversized red lehenga, her cheeks puffed in protest. "oh, my princess," Shashi chuckled, crouching to adjust the dupatta over her little head. "You look like Lakshmi herself. Today is special." "But Arnav is grumpy," she mumbled, glancing at the quiet boy standing beside her. "I heard that," Arnav muttered, shifting in his too-stiff kurta. "You kicked me under the mandap, remember?" "That was because you pulled my braid!" "Only because you stuck your tongue out!" "Enough, you two!" Buaji clapped her hands. "Nandkishore! Is this a wedding or a WWF match?" The priest laughed kindly. "They are young. But their hearts are pure." He looked at the families. "This child-vivaah is symbolic. A blessing. It holds no legal bind - only the faith of the families." Arnav's mother, still delicate from recent illness, smiled faintly. "They insisted. Said they wanted to be together forever. We thought - why not bless it under God's eyes?" Arnav's uncle,a tall, stern, with intense eyes - nodded. "Just make sure your Khushi doesn't turn my nephew into a chatterbox." Everyone laughed. Khushi and Arnav looked at each other in mock annoyance - and then, in a heartbeat, something shifted. The priest began. "Tie the red thread, joining their wrists." Khushi looked up, suddenly solemn. "Will this hurt?" "No, my child," the priest smiled. "It protects. It binds souls in remembrance." Arnav's eyes were locked on the thread as it looped around his wrist, then Khushi's. "Repeat after me," the priest said gently. "'Main vaada karta hoon...'" "Main vaada karta hoon..." Arnav echoed. "'...ki main tumhara hamesha khayal rakhunga.'" "...ki main tumhara hamesha khayal rakhunga," Arnav finished, voice low but certain. Khushi beamed. "I promise I'll always bring you jalebis, even when you're angry." The crowd laughed. Arnav blinked at her, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. The priest chuckled. "That works too." Flashbulbs popped. Somewhere, fate sealed a vow neither child understood - but the soul always does. That was the last moment of peace. After that , the scandal broke. Money was stolen from the factory. Accusations flew. The Raizadas lost face. The Guptas lost the job. Arnav's mother collapsed. And Khushi's family left the city. Days later, Khushi was in a car with her parents - when the accident happened. She lived. They didn't. The memory? Gone. _________ Present Day - Delhi Gupta House, Morning "Jiji, are you ready?" Khushi shouted from the kitchen, balancing a tray of jalebis. "We'll be late for the client meeting!" Payal came out adjusting her dupatta. "You're the one who overslept." "I had a dream," Khushi said, biting into a jalebi. "We were in a temple, full of lights and garlands. There was a boy..." "Was he handsome?" Khushi rolled her eyes. "He had ears like a monkey." Payal laughed. "Sounds like destiny is sending you childhood husband material." Khushi blinked. She didn't know why, but her chest ached for a moment - as if something old and real had brushed past her. - - - - "Jiji, where is my blue file? The wedding decor sketch one!" Payal called from the mirror, "Next to your jalebi box." "Oops." Khushi rushed out, hair half-tied, eyes wide. "Do you think rich clients will like my designs?" "Khushi, if someone doesn't like your designs, they don't deserve you." Khushi grinned. "Spoken like a true elder sister s***h part-time therapist." Payal smirked. "Just try not to trip over anything gold today." --- AR Designs - Conference Room Aman adjusted his glasses. "Mr. Raizada will join shortly. Please be prepared." Khushi nudged Payal. "Why does this place feel so cold? Like someone vacuumed the happiness out?" Payal whispered, "Maybe don't say that in front of your millionaire client." "I'm thinking it very professionally," Khushi murmured. The glass doors hissed open. Arnav Singh Raizada walked in, tall, unreadable, ruthless. Khushi turned-and froze. He paused mid-step, breath sharp, eyes colliding with hers. She frowned, confused. Why did he look like he'd seen a ghost? Arnav quickly looked away. "Let's begin." Payal rose, nervous. "We've brought design samples for the Raizada-Garg gala, sir. The layout-" Arnav cut in. "You're the wedding decorators?" "Yes, Mr. Raizada. We're from Shagun Events. I'm Payal Gupta, and this is my sister, Khushi." Arnav's grip tightened around the pen in his hand. Gupta. Of course. Khushi stepped forward. "I made the mood board. It has fairy lights, vintage gold, and Rajasthani mirror-work. You seem like someone who doesn't like glitter, but it's subtle, I promise." Arnav stared. She had no idea. Aman , placing files in front of the clients. Khushi muttered to Payal, "This guy looks like he hasn't smiled in decades." Before Payal could respond,"Mr. Raizada?" Aman prompted. "Approved," Arnav said coldly. "Make sure the team delivers. I don't believe in second chances." Khushi blinked. "Well, good thing I believe in backup plans." He looked at her sharply, but she smiled, completely unaware. --- That Night - Gupta House Khushi sat at her desk, drawing doodles on her notebook. A garland. A temple bell. A boy's face she couldn't draw. She closed the diary. "Why do I feel like I've forgotten something important...?" --- --- Late Night - Raizada Mansion Arnav stood at the edge of his room, the photograph in hand once again. Two children. A girl in marigold. A boy with a mango thread on his wrist. He closed his eyes. "She forgot me," he whispered. "And I promised I would forget her." But he hadn't. Not really. And now she was back. --- "Some bonds are made with threads... others with destiny. No matter how far you run, some promises find their way back."