Forced to make me Hate You

The Ruined Altar

As the priest began the mantras, the ground seemed to vibrate. Four black SUVs roared into the narrow street, blocking the entrance.

Men in dark suits jumped out, but they weren't guests. They were holding professional cameras, their flashes already exploding like tiny stars against the afternoon sun.

The crowd gasped as the lead car’s door opened. A polished black shoe hit the dusty pavement.

Vedant Vardhan stepped out, looking like a dark god of vengeance. The reporters swarmed around him, microphones thrust forward, but he ignored them, his eyes locked onto the girl in the red veil standing on the porch.

Suddenly, the festive music—the rhythmic beat of the dhol—stopped abruptly. A heavy, suffocating silence swept through the hall.

Vedant stood in the silhouette of the midday sun at the entrance. He wasn't the boy she remembered.

The boy she loved had soft eyes and a gentle smile. This man's suit alone costs more than this entire wedding hall. His jaw was set like granite, and his eyes—once her sanctuary—were now twin pools of liquid ice.

"STOP." the voice boomed, vibrating in Aavya’s chest.

Vedant Vardhan had arrived. And he didn't look like a man coming to save a bride. He looked like an executioner.

"Who are these people? Why are there reporters here?" Sameer's father asked Ashok.

Vedant walked through the crowd, the sea of guests parting in fear.

He is now clearly visible to Ashok, her father.

He stepped closer to Aavya, his voice shaking. "Aavya... why is he here? Did you know he had arrived from London? "

Aavya couldn't answer. Her tongue felt like lead. Ajay Vardhan had promised—he had sworn he wouldn't let Vedant ruin this. How was he here?

And why did he look like he wanted to burn the world down to see her in the ashes?

"Aavya?" Ashok, shook her arm to snap her out of her daze.

"This..." Aavya whispered, her eyes tracking Vedant’s predatory approach. He halted at the foot of the mandap stairs, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

"Nice wedding, Aavya," Vedant said, his voice carrying with lethal clarity over the frantic click-clack of the cameras.

The reporters were a frantic wall of flashing lights and scratching pens behind him.

"Vedant?" Aavya’s father, Mr Ashok Chaturvedi, stepped forward.

"What is the meaning of this? Why did you bring reporters and... This is my daughter's wedding! Leave now. She has nothing to do with you."

Vedant didn't even look at the old man. His gaze was locked onto Aavya’s trembling form behind the veil. He took a slow, predatory step forward.

The guests began to whisper, the sound like a hive of disturbed wasps.

"Vedant stop." Aavya's father again tried to stop Vedant. "Not today. Let my daughter get married. We will talk later."

His gaze remained anchored to the trembling red veil. "Later, Uncle? I’m afraid. I’ve already waited two years for my revenge. And I’m not waiting another second."

His voice dropped to a whisper intended only for Ashok’s ears. "I am here to collect what is mine."

"Vedant, no... you can't—"

With a cold, dismissive motion, Vedant pushed Ashok aside. His men moved instantly, blocking Mahima and Sameer’s family from interfering. Vedant stepped onto the platform, reaching for Aavya’s veil.

But Sameer grabbed his wrist.

"Don't," Sameer hissed. "She is my wife. No outsider is allowed to touch her."

"Outsider?" Vedant’s smirk was a jagged, soulless thing. "Sameer, right? Didn't Aavya tell you about me?"

Sameer looked at Aavya, his heart racing, "Aavya? Do you know him?"

"I... I..." Aavya’s voice failed her.

"I am her ex-boyfriend," Vedant stated, his face darkening into a mask of pure malice.

The hall erupted in gasps. Sameer recoiled as if he’d been struck. "What? Aavya, is this true?"

"Vedant, please," Aavya whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I am already here now. Please... leave and forget everything between us."

"Forget?" Vedant cut her off, his voice dropping to a dangerous, silky purr. "That’s never going to happen. You made me a monster, Aavya. And now, this monster is going to ruin your life the way you ruined mine."

"I have a special gift for you. Vikram, bring the gifts." He turned to the side, his eyes flashing.

Aavya watched in shock as a woman walked in, her heels clicking rhythmically against the stone.

It was Riya, her best friend, her face a mask of elegant cruelty. She held a gold-wrapped box with a silk ribbon.

"Congratulations, Aavya," Riya purred. "You didn't tell me that you're getting married. Anyway, I still brought a gift for you. Have a nice look."

"Riya..." Aavya blinked in disbelief. Her last pillar of support had just turned into a blade.

"What is happening?" Sameer’s father roared. "Who are these people?"

"Just wait and watch, Uncle," Riya stated, looking at the crowd. "You will know everything. I am Riya Kapoor. I hope everyone present here must have known me."

Her name is enough to let everyone recognise her at once.

" This girl is my best friend. And this boy is my family friend's son. Vedant Vardhan who just took over the Vardhan Enterprise." Riya introduced Vedant and everyone gasped in horror. Vardhan alone holds power and status.

"Vedant Vardhan what is he doing here?" Sameer's father asked on behalf of all the guests present there.

"We were such good friends in college.

But Aavya's and Vedant's friendship turned into love but she didn't love him. She put on an act." Riya continued.

"Vedant, Riya, please. Not today," Aavya pleaded, her voice cracking. "My father... his heart... he can't handle this trauma."

Vedant leaned closer, his scent—sandalwood and cold iron—overwhelming her.

"The groom deserves to know that his 'pure' bride has already been bought and paid for once before. Everyone should know exactly what kind of girl you are."

"Enough! Vedant stop." Ashok tried to shout, but he was silenced by the sheer weight of Vedant’s presence.

"See yourself. What type of girl is she?"

Vedant tore open the box. He grabbed a handful of photographs and tossed them into the air.

They fluttered down like black-and-white snow, landing in the laps of guests, on the sacred fire, and at Sameer’s feet.

They were pictures of their four years together—intimate moments, shared smiles, kisses in the rain. Proof of a history she had tried to bury.

Aavya gasped, the air leaving her lungs, "Vedant!"

"See how the 'sweet' Aavya Chaturvedi sells her loyalty for a stack of cash?" Vedant shouted to the crowd giving a glance to Aavya, raising a thick stuffed envelope.