The Substitute Bride
1389 Words
Several hours remained before dawn, yet no eyes were heavy with sleep in Narendra Trivedi’s household.
Everything had been finalized.
Just one more night...
After which the Brar and Trivedi families would be linked in alliance.
Yet the biggest crisis resided right inside that house.
Narendra Trivedi’s daughter, Nita.
She had stated in blunt terms—
“I will not go through with this marriage. Absolutely not to a politician. And never to a man I do not even know.”
Silence enveloped the room.
Everything Nita had read about Gursher Singh Brar on the internet had only hardened her stance.
A dominant political leader.
A man consumed by politics.
A life revolving around power and elections.
This was not the life she desired.
Her dreams were entirely different.
She wanted to settle abroad.
She longed to live in the dazzling world of big cities.
She wanted to build her own identity.
Not by becoming a part of some village or political family.
“If Papa wants to build his political career, he should do it on his own strength. Do not turn my life into a stepping stone.”
For the first time, such defiance echoed in her voice.
When her father refused to yield, her mother attempted to reason with her.
Yet Nita stood resolute in her stubbornness.
Ultimately, she uttered the words that shook the entire household to its core.
“If anyone forces me... I will end my own life.”
Narendra and his wife were left utterly stunned.
Yet the true shock struck when Nita revealed that she cared for someone else.
Not just cared—
That man held feelings for her as well.
And he was no ordinary person.
He was the son of a family counted among the country’s prominent industrialists.
The entire dynamic had now shifted completely.
For a long time, deliberations continued inside the room.
Then suddenly, an idea crossed Vishakha Trivedi’s mind.
“There is a way...”
Narendra looked toward her.
“Gursher hasn't seen Nita, has he?”
“So?”
“Let’s marry off Simran instead.”
A hush fell over the room for a few moments.
Vishakha pressed further—
“He doesn't even know Nita's name. And besides...”
A harsh tone crept into her voice.
“We have raised Simran and her brother for so many years. Who is funding her brother's MBBS education?”
Narendra remained silent.
“If those two stand where they are today, it is because of us. Now if Simran cannot even do this much for us in return, what was the point?”
Slowly, the idea transformed into a plan.
And the plan hardened into a decision.
A decision that the bride the next day would not be Nita...
It would be Simran.
Simran, who had been standing in a corner of the room listening to everything until now.
She wanted to speak up.
Multiple times she attempted to voice her thoughts.
Yet every time, her voice was suppressed.
No one sought her opinion.
Her wishes held no value for anyone.
Everything was finalized that night.
Vishakha’s greatest fear was that Simran might flee.
Thus, she made Simran sleep in her own room.
Yet the truth was that no one slept in that room.
Vishakha repeatedly lectured her, intimidated her, and exerted pressure upon her.
Simran wept continuously.
“I don't want to get married...”
“Not right now...”
“Please do not force me...”
Yet every plea of hers was met with a threat.
“Think about your brother.”
“We will have him expelled from college.”
“His MBBS will remain incomplete.”
“Both of you siblings will end up on the street.”
Every word pierced her heart like an arrow.
Simran knew her brother was her entire world.
And that was precisely her greatest vulnerability.
Tears streamed down her eyes throughout the night.
Meanwhile, Vishakha’s gaze remained fixed on her.
As if she were a captive who would escape the moment an opportunity arose.
The next morning, wedding preparations were underway in the house.
The makeup artist had arrived.
Jewelry, attire, and cosmetic items lay scattered across the room.
Seated before the mirror, Simran appeared entirely composed.
So quiet that anyone looking at her would assume she was preparing for her own wedding with joy.
Yet a storm raged within her.
Her hands were trembling.
Her heart repeatedly asked a single question—
“Is my marriage truly taking place today?”
She had never even laid eyes on Gursher Singh Brar.
Nor spoken to him.
Nor known him.
And in a matter of hours, that very man would be called her husband.
Beholding her adorned reflection in the mirror, her eyes filled with tears.
Today she was being dressed like a bride...
Yet inside, there was not a trace of a bride’s happiness.
She felt as though the right to choose her own life had been stripped away from her.
And the most painful realization was that she lacked even the strength to resist.
Because every path ended at a single point—
Upon her brother’s future.
Simran sat before the mirror.
The makeup artist was adding the final touches to her face, yet her attention was elsewhere.
Her gaze rested on the mirror in front of her, but she was not looking at herself.
She repeatedly thought back to the images and videos she had seen on her phone.
She mused in her mind,
“If he were truly a good person, why would Nita Ji refuse the marriage so adamantly?”
This question had circled in her mind all night long.
She had never harbored any interest in politics.
She was a final-year student at her college.
Beyond books, examinations, and worries of her future, she had never attempted to comprehend the world of politics.
Yet last night, for the very first time, she had read about Gursher Singh Brar on the internet.
The more she read, the more her anxiety heightened.
In some photos, he was seen in major political protests.
In others, addressing thousands of people from a stage.
In some, being taken into custody by the police.
In others, leading a demonstration against the government.
In one video, he was speaking with such anger that Simran had involuntarily shivered.
She did not understand the language of politics.
Nor did she know whether those protests were right or wrong.
Yet her attention had locked onto just one thing—
That man’s eyes.
In those eyes, she had glimpsed a strange sternness.
A confidence that felt to her like fear itself.
And then she recalled that phone call.
That voice...
That tone...
The manner in which he had answered the person on the other end without fear, without pause.
Simran had listened for merely a few minutes, yet that alone had frightened her.
“If he is this stern over the phone, how must he be in real life?”
A new wave of dread washed over her mind.
“When he finds out that I am not Nita...”
“What will happen then?”
“Will he become furious?”
“Will he send me back?”
“Or else...”
She could not even bring herself to think further.
Her heart began beating rapidly.
She felt as though she was being pushed down a road whose end was invisible to her.
Just then, the sound of vehicles coming to a halt resonated outside.
Simran’s heart felt as though it paused for a second.
Her fingers involuntarily gripped the arms of the chair tightly.
She wanted to stand up and walk to the window, yet her legs felt utterly lifeless.
Outside, two cars pulled up one after the other.
There was no band, nor hundreds of guests.
Everything had been intentionally kept modest and confidential.
The door of the first car opened.
Then the second car’s door.
And along with it stepped out the very man—
Whose name had hovered over her life for the past twenty-four hours.
Gursher Singh Brar.
Simran’s breathing involuntarily quickened.
In a short while, the man she had hitherto seen only in pictures and videos—
Was about to be right in front of her.
And perhaps a few hours later...
Her husband as well.
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