The Wrong Bride

Ten years ago. The Malhotra residence was unusually lively that evening. The dining table had been set for a family dinner, though with the number of people gathered around it, it hardly felt like a simple dinner anymore. The Kapoors had been invited. As usual. The two families had known each other for years. Vikram Kapoor and Sanjay Malhotra had built their businesses together, survived difficult deals together, celebrated successes together—and somewhere along the way, their families had become almost inseparable. At one end of the table sat twelve-year-old Virat Malhotra. Beside him was thirteen-year-old Aditi Kapoor. And at the other end sat seven-year-old Avni Kapoor, swinging her little legs beneath the chair because they didn't quite reach the floor. She had been told three times to sit properly. She had ignored it three times. "Avni." Her mother's warning made her immediately straighten. For approximately ten seconds. Then her attention wandered again. Not toward the food. Not toward the adults talking around her. Toward Virat. He was laughing at something Aditi had said. Avni stared. Then quickly looked down when she realized she had been staring for too long. She picked up her spoon. Put it down. Looked again. Virat didn't notice. Of course he didn't. He was eighteen , and Avni was twelve. To him, she was probably just one of the younger children running around during family gatherings. If he had been asked her name that evening, there was a good chance he would have had to think about it. Aditi, however, needed no introduction. She was the kind of girl adults noticed. Even at eighteen . She had just won a district-level tennis tournament, was one of the highest scorers in her class, danced beautifully, and somehow had enough confidence to argue with Virat without ever seeming rude. "You cheated," Aditi announced. Virat looked offended. "I did not." "You did." "I won." "Because you cheated." "You lost." "I let you win." Virat laughed. Avni watched them. She didn't understand why her stomach felt funny whenever Virat smiled. She only knew that she liked looking at him. A lot. "Avni, eat." She looked down. Her plate was still untouched. "I'm eating." "You've been eating the same piece of paneer for five minutes." Avni immediately put it in her mouth. Across the table, Aditi noticed. She laughed. "She's so tiny." "I'm not tiny," Avni protested. "You are." "I'm going to become taller than you." Aditi smiled. "Then I'll be very scared." Everyone laughed. Avni pouted. Virat laughed too. She looked at him. And forgot to be offended. It wasn't only that evening. It became a habit. A ridiculous, completely one-sided habit. At school, Avni would look for Virat during prayer assembly. At recess, she somehow found herself walking past the senior block. During sports day, she watched him play whenever she could. At family functions, she always knew where he was. She never spoke to him. She rarely even came close enough for him to notice her. But somehow, she always noticed him. Years passed. Avni grew older. The crush remained. It changed shape, became quieter, less childish, but never entirely disappeared. And Virat? He remained exactly where he had always been in her world. Somewhere ahead of her. Just out of reach. To him, Avni was barely a thought. Once, during a family gathering, he had looked toward her and asked casually, "Who's that?" Sanjay had followed his gaze. "Vikram's younger daughter. Avni." "Oh." That was it. Virat turned back to whatever he had been doing. Avni had been standing only a few feet away. She had heard him. For some reason, she smiled anyway. At least now he knew her name. Aditi was different. Everyone knew it. She excelled without appearing to try. Academics. Sports. Dance. Public speaking. Everything. She walked into a room and belonged there. Avni walked into a room and wondered whether she was standing in someone's way. It wasn't that Avni was unhappy with herself. She wasn't. She liked being quiet. She liked small things. Books. Coffee shops. Long walks. Little ideas scribbled in notebooks. She had never dreamed of becoming extraordinary. Someday, she wanted to start a small business of her own. She didn't know exactly what yet. Perhaps something related to food. Perhaps lifestyle. Perhaps something completely different. She only knew she wanted something that belonged entirely to her. But whenever people compared the sisters, the difference seemed obvious. Aditi was going somewhere. Avni was simply... Avni. And strangely enough, she didn't resent it. Especially not Aditi. Aditi was her sister. Her protector. Her best friend. If the world thought Aditi was perfect, Avni couldn't exactly argue. She thought so too. Four years earlier, Avni had left for London to study economics and business management. It had been the first time she had been away from home for so long. She had learned to manage herself. Her studies. Her finances. Her tiny rented kitchen. Her homesickness. She had become more independent. More confident. Not dramatically. Avni was still Avni. Still soft-spoken. Still gentle. Still capable of getting flustered over the smallest things. But she had grown up. And somewhere along those four years, Virat Malhotra had slowly stopped occupying so much space in her mind. Until one phone call brought everything back. Virat and Aditi were getting married. Of course they were. Everyone had always known. Their families had known. Their friends had known. Perhaps even Avni had known. Still, when she heard the news, there had been a small, painful ache somewhere beneath her ribs. She had immediately hated herself for it. Aditi was her sister. Virat was the man Aditi loved. This was what was supposed to happen. This was what had always been supposed to happen. So Avni smiled when her mother told her. She congratulated her sister. She meant every word. And then she booked her flight home. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have now landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport, Delhi." Avni opened her eyes. For a moment, she simply sat there. Home. She looked out of the airplane window. Delhi stretched beneath her, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. After years away, she was finally back. She collected her handbag, adjusted the strap over her shoulder, and joined the passengers leaving the aircraft. By the time she reached the terminal, she was already smiling. And then she saw him. Her father. Vikram Kapoor stood near the arrival gate, looking impatiently at every person who walked out. The moment he spotted her, his entire face changed. "There she is!" Avni laughed. "Papa!" She hurried toward him. Vikram pulled her into a tight hug. "My daughter!" "I've been gone for four years, Papa, not forty." "Same thing." He pulled back and looked at her carefully. "You're thinner." "I'm not." "You are." "Maa said the same thing." "Because your mother has eyes." Avni laughed. Vikram immediately took her suitcase. "Papa, I can carry it." "No." "It's literally my suitcase." "And I am literally your father." "You've become impossible." "I was always impossible." They began walking toward the exit. Vikram looked happier than he had in months. "Finally, the life of the Kapoor mansion is back." Avni smiled. "Maa?" "Has been cooking since morning." "What?" "Everything you like." "Everything?" "Everything." Avni's eyes widened. "Even—" "Yes." "The pasta?" "Yes." "The chocolate cake?" "Yes." "The—" "Avni, your mother has missed you." Her smile softened. "I missed her too." "And me?" "You were annoying." Vikram looked offended. "Unbelievable." She laughed and slipped her arm through his. For the first time in years, Avni felt completely at home. The drive back to the Kapoor mansion was filled with her father's endless questions. How were her classes? Had she eaten? Was London too cold? Did she have enough money? Was she sleeping properly? Was she planning to stay in India now? And then, naturally, came the subject of her future. "You know," Vikram said casually, "whenever you're comfortable, you can join our business." Avni looked at him. "Really?" "Of course. You can start with some junior position, learn the work properly, and later we'll see what you want to do." She smiled. "Okay, Papa." He looked pleased. "Good." Avni turned toward the window. Delhi passed outside in streaks of light. She didn't say anything more. Because she already knew. She wouldn't. Not because she disliked the Kapoor business. Not because she didn't respect her father. But because somewhere in London, between lectures and late-night assignments, she had started imagining something else. Something small. Something that was hers. She didn't know exactly what it would become. But she knew she wanted to build it herself. Her father didn't know that yet. And perhaps Avni wasn't ready to tell him. Not today. Today, she was simply going home. The Kapoor mansion came into view. And Avni's heart lifted. The familiar gates. The gardens. The warm lights spilling through the windows. The place where she had grown up. The place where she had spent years quietly falling in love with someone who had never even noticed. As the car stopped, Avni stepped out. She looked toward the house. Flowers decorated the entrance. There were more cars than usual. More people. More excitement. Her sister's wedding was only weeks away. Aditi and Virat. The perfect couple. Avni smiled. It hurt a little. But she smiled anyway. Because perhaps some stories were written long before anyone realized they had begun. And Virat Malhotra and Aditi Kapoor had always seemed like one of those stories. Avni had simply been standing at the edge of the frame. Watching.