Two days.

That was all that remained.

The house carried a different kind of energy now—no longer just preparation, but something closer to inevitability. Every corner was filled, every moment accounted for. There was no pause left to think, no space left to step back.

The haldi was set in the courtyard, bright with marigolds and sunlight, brass plates arranged neatly, bowls of turmeric paste placed beside vessels of water filled with floating rose petals.

Kiara walked in draped in a soft yellow saree, the fabric light against her skin, her expression composed in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Aarav was already seated.

Yellow kurta. Straight posture. Controlled presence.

They sat side by side on separate stools, close enough to feel the other’s presence, distant enough to follow tradition.

The ritual began the way it always did.

Kiara’s grandparents stepped forward first.

Her grandmother applied haldi gently to Kiara’s cheeks, then to Aarav’s, her touch soft, affectionate. Her grandfather followed, placing a firm hand over each of their heads in blessing before stepping aside.

Then Aarav’s grandparents came forward.

The same ritual. The same quiet blessings. The same weight behind it.

One by one, the elders followed.

Parents.

Uncles.

Aunts.

Each of them applying haldi to both of them—not separately, not differently. Equal. Intentional. Binding them into something neither of them had chosen.

Kiara stayed still through all of it.

Aarav did too.

Then the elders stepped back.

And the tone shifted.

“Now we can do this properly,” Dev said, already reaching for the bowl.

Kiara barely had time to react before haldi was smeared across her arm.

“Dev—”

“Relax.”

“I am not relaxed.”

Too late.

Riya joined in next, pressing haldi onto her cheek, followed by Arjun who didn’t even try to be gentle.

“This is excessive,” Kiara said, trying to pull her hand back.

“No such thing,” Riya replied.

Across from her, Aarav wasn’t spared either.

Kabir had already dragged haldi across his jaw, Rohan adding more to his sleeve while Arjun reached across again just to make it worse.

“Stay still,” Kabir said.

“I am still.”

“Not enough.”

Kiara exhaled sharply as more haldi found its way onto her shoulder, her wrist, her neck.

And just when she thought it might slow down—

“Water,” someone called out.

The bowls were lifted.

Cool water mixed with rose petals was poured gently over their hands, trailing down their arms, washing through the haldi, softening it, spreading it further instead of removing it.

Kiara flinched slightly at the sudden cold.

Aarav didn’t react—but his jaw tightened for a brief second.

“Careful,” he said.

“You’ll survive,” Rohan replied.

Kiara tried to wipe some of it off instinctively, only managing to smear it further.

Aarav glanced at her. “That’s not helping.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

She shot him a look. “You’re very talkative today.”

“You’re very impatient.”

“Nothing new.”

“Exactly.”

The argument was brief. Controlled. Familiar.

Then Riya pulled Kiara’s hand back again. “Stop fixing it. It’s supposed to look like this.”

Kiara let it go.

Not because she agreed.

Because it didn’t matter.

The photographer moved around constantly, capturing everything—the rituals, the laughter, the chaos, the way both of them looked like they belonged in something that felt anything but theirs.

—

The mehendi that followed was quieter.

Slower.

Kiara sat with her hands extended, watching as intricate patterns formed across her palms, winding upward with deliberate precision.

It should have been calming.

It wasn’t.

“Add his name,” one of the aunts said gently.

Kiara looked up immediately. “No.”

“It’s tradition,” her mother said softly.

“I don’t want it.”

A brief silence.

Her grandmother stepped closer. “It’ll be hidden.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything right now,” her aunt added carefully. “Let it be part of the moment.”

Kiara held her gaze for a second longer.

Then looked away.

“…fine.”

The artist nodded and continued, weaving Aarav’s name carefully into the design, hidden within the patterns where it wouldn’t be seen easily.

Kiara didn’t look at it again.

—

Across the space, Aarav sat with Dev and Arjun, the conversation quieter, more natural.

“You’re actually going through with this,” Dev said.

Aarav gave a short nod. “Looks like it.”

Arjun leaned back slightly. “You could’ve tried harder to stop it.”

“And do what?” Aarav asked calmly. “Walk out?”

A pause.

“…fair,” Dev admitted.

Silence settled for a second.

Then—

“You okay with it?” Arjun asked.

Aarav didn’t answer immediately.

“…it’s happening,” he said finally.

That was enough.

—

The sangeet at night was everything the day wasn’t.

Loud. Bright. Alive.

Performances filled the stage—cousins, friends, laughter echoing through the hall as music carried across the space. Kiara and Aarav sat through it all, side by side but not together, watching, clapping when needed, saying the right things when people looked their way.

They didn’t dance.

Didn’t get pulled in.

Just observed.

After the performances ended, the crowd loosened, shifting into conversations and interactions.

This time—

They moved through it together.

Standing beside each other as guests approached, offering congratulations, making polite conversation, maintaining the image everyone expected.

“Congratulations,” someone said.

“Thank you,” they replied—almost in sync.

A brief glance passed between them.

Annoying.

Unavoidable.

At one point, as the crowd thinned slightly, Aarav spoke quietly, just enough for her to hear.

“Two days.”

Kiara nodded once. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Still time to run,” he added dryly.

She let out a short breath. “You first.”

“Tempting.”

“Do it.”

He didn’t respond.

Because neither of them would

The next day  house felt different.

Not quieter—if anything, there were still people moving around, voices calling out instructions, but the energy had shifted. It wasn’t the rush of preparation anymore. It was… something heavier. Slower. Like everything was trying to hold onto time instead of chasing it.

Kiara sat on the floor of her room, her suitcase open in front of her, clothes neatly folded on one side, jewelry cases stacked carefully on the other. She had been packing for a while now, but the suitcase still wasn’t full.

Because she kept stopping.

Her fingers lingered over things longer than necessary. A dress she hadn’t worn in months. A book she never finished. Small, insignificant things that suddenly didn’t feel so insignificant anymore.

Her room didn’t look different.

But it felt like it was already slipping away from her.

A soft knock came at the door before it opened without waiting for an answer.

“Still packing?” her mother asked gently, stepping inside.

Kiara nodded faintly. “Almost done.”

Her mother walked in slowly, her eyes scanning the room for a moment before settling on her. There was something in her expression—something softer, something heavier than usual.

She sat down beside her.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then her mother picked up a folded dupatta from the bed, smoothing it absentmindedly. “You don’t have to take everything at once,” she said quietly. “You can always come back for the rest.”

Kiara let out a small breath. “Yeah.”

But they both knew that wasn’t the point.

Her mother looked at her again, this time more carefully. “You’re quiet.”

Kiara gave a small shrug. “There’s nothing to say.”

“That’s not true.”

A pause.

Kiara kept her eyes on the suitcase. “If I start talking, I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Her mother’s hand moved instinctively, resting over hers. Warm. Familiar.

“You don’t have to stop,” she said softly.

That did it.

Not immediately.

But slowly, the control Kiara had been holding onto all day started to slip.

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Every single day.”

Her throat tightened slightly, but she continued.

“And tomorrow I just… leave?”

Her mother didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t try to fix it.

“I know it’s normal,” Kiara added quickly, almost defensively. “I know this is how it works. I’ve seen it happen so many times, but—”

Her voice broke slightly.

“But it doesn’t feel normal.”

Her mother’s grip tightened just a little.

“It never does,” she murmured.

Kiara shook her head, a small, helpless laugh escaping her. “I don’t even know why I’m reacting like this.”

“Because it’s your home,” her mother said simply. “Because these are your people.”

That was all it took.

Kiara’s vision blurred before she could stop it.

“I’m not ready,” she admitted, the words barely above a whisper.

Her mother pulled her closer instantly, wrapping her arms around her.

“You don’t have to be,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “No one ever is.”

Kiara held onto her tightly, her fingers clutching the fabric of her mother’s saree like she had when she was a child.

And just like that—

The tears came.

Not quiet this time.

Not controlled.

They spilled over, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face into her mother’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave,” she cried, the words breaking between breaths. “I don’t want to leave this… I don’t want to leave you.”

Her mother’s hand moved through her hair gently, trying to soothe her even as her own eyes filled.

“You’re not losing us,” she whispered. “You’re just… going a little further away.”

“That’s the same thing,” Kiara said weakly.

“No,” her mother replied softly. “It’s not.”

—

A little while later, her grandmother entered the room, followed by her aunts.

They paused at the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene.

And then, without a word, they walked in.

Her grandmother sat beside her, cupping her face gently, wiping away her tears with a tenderness that only she had.

“Crying already?” she said softly, though her own voice wavered just slightly.

Kiara let out a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” one of her aunts said gently, sitting down beside her. “And that’s okay.”

Her other aunt nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel this.”

Kiara looked at them, really looked at them—and that made it worse.

Because these were her people.

Her home.

Her constant.

And tomorrow, everything would change.

Her grandmother smiled faintly, brushing her hair back. “When I left my house after my wedding, I cried for two days straight.”

Kiara sniffed, a small, tearful laugh escaping her. “Only two?”

“Three,” her grandmother corrected. “I just didn’t want to admit it.”

That made her smile properly this time, even through the tears.

Her mother wiped her own eyes quietly, composing herself before speaking again. “Listen to me,” she said gently. “If this was anyone else—any other family—we wouldn’t have done this.”

Kiara’s brows furrowed slightly.

Her father’s voice came from the doorway then. “She’s right.”

She looked up.

He walked in, followed by her uncles, their presence filling the room in a way that felt both comforting and overwhelming.

Her father sat down in front of her, his expression softer than she had ever seen it.

“We know this wasn’t how you imagined things,” he said. “And if there was any other way, we would have given you time. A choice.”

Kiara swallowed hard.

“But we didn’t do this blindly,” her uncle added. “We know Aarav.”

Another uncle nodded. “We’ve seen him grow up. We know the kind of person he is.”

Kiara frowned slightly. “But papa… we hate each other.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

A brief silence followed.

Then one of her uncles spoke, his tone calm. “Do you?”

She blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, “has he ever done anything wrong to you? Truly wrong?”

Kiara opened her mouth—

Then paused.

Because no.

Not really.

“He’s arrogant,” she said instead. “Annoying. Insufferable.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he replied gently.

Another uncle added, “Has he ever been disrespectful to anyone else? To family? To elders?”

Kiara hesitated again.

“No.”

“Then maybe,” her father said quietly, “this isn’t hate.”

She looked at him, confusion flickering across her face.

“Maybe it’s just… something unresolved between the two of you,” he continued. “Misunderstandings. Ego. Things that were never addressed.”

Her aunt nodded. “And those things don’t go away on their own. They need time. Conversation.”

Kiara let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly. “We don’t even talk without arguing.”

“Then argue,” her grandmother said simply. “But don’t stop talking.”

A small silence followed that.

“He’s a good man, Kiara,” her father said, his voice steady. “And we wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with you.”

Her throat tightened again.

Not because she fully agreed.

But because she could hear the truth in his voice.

“And you’re not going far,” one of her aunts added softly. “You’re not losing us.”

Her other aunt smiled faintly. “You’re just… starting something new.”

Kiara looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting slightly in the fabric of her dress.

Everything they were saying made sense.

Logically.

Emotionally, she was still all over the place.

But somewhere—

Very faintly—

Something shifted.

Not acceptance.

Not completely.

But… a small step toward it.

A while later the door burst open without warning.

“Wow,” Dev’s voice cut through the silence. “You actually packed.”

Kiara didn’t turn. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

“It is,” Arjun added, walking in right after him.

Riya followed, slower this time. She took one look at Kiara… and then at the suitcase.

And her expression changed.

“You’re done?” she asked quietly.

Kiara nodded.

That was all it took.

The room shifted.

Dev walked in further, looking around like something had already gone missing. “This is weird.”

“No,” Kiara said softly. “It’s not weird.”

She finally turned to face them.

“It’s real.”

Silence fell.

Arjun sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes still on the suitcase. “You’re actually leaving tomorrow.”

Kiara swallowed.

“Yeah.”

Riya moved closer, standing right beside her. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Kiara let out a small, shaky breath. “I know.”

Dev crossed his arms, but his voice wasn’t as steady as usual. “This room’s going to be so boring without you.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” she tried to tease.

“Obviously,” he said quickly. “Who else am I supposed to annoy?”

But it didn’t land the way it usually did.

Because none of them were really joking.

Kiara’s eyes drifted around the room again. Every little thing felt louder now. More noticeable. Like it was asking to be remembered.

“I’ve never been away from here,” she said quietly.

Riya’s hand slipped into hers. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“But it’s true,” Kiara whispered.

Arjun leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You always said you’d leave when you wanted to. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened.

“I know.”

That was it.

That was all it took.

Her vision blurred before she even realized it.

“I’m not ready,” she said, her voice breaking as she looked at them. “I’m not ready to leave.”

Riya pulled her into a hug instantly.

Kiara held on.

Tightly.

As if letting go would make it happen faster.

“This is my home,” she whispered, her voice shaking now. “You’re here… everything is here…”

“I know,” Riya murmured softly, holding her closer.

Dev looked away, running a hand through his hair. “This is so messed up.”

Arjun stood up slowly and stepped closer, placing a hand on Kiara’s shoulder. “You’re not losing us.”

“But it won’t be the same,” she said, her words breaking between tears.

No one argued.

Because they knew she was right.

Kiara buried her face into Riya’s shoulder, her grip tightening as her shoulders shook. “I don’t want to go,” she admitted, the words coming out softer this time, more vulnerable.

Dev let out a quiet breath, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on her head. “You’re still ours. Don’t forget that.”

Arjun nodded. “Nothing changes that.”

Riya pulled back just enough to look at her, wiping her tears gently. “You’re not leaving us. You’re just… going somewhere else.”

Kiara shook her head slightly, tears still slipping through. “It doesn’t feel like that.”

“I know,” Riya said softly.

For a while, they just stayed like that.

Close.

Familiar.

Unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.