After the Chaos
The hall was still buzzing with murmurs as the broken pieces of the chandelier were swept away. Guests whispered about omens and accidents, their once-festive faces now uneasy.
Veer sat on a couch at the side, wincing as Aarti gently bandaged his arm, her eyes misting with worry.
"You could have been killed," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly.
Veer forced a smile. "I'm fine, Ma. It's just a scratch."
Before Aarti could respond, a sharp voice cut through the room.
"Well," Jhimli, Vrinda's soon-to-be mother-in-law, said loudly, fanning herself with exaggerated grace, "such a… memorable mehendi. A chandelier falling right on the bride? What an auspicious sign for the marriage."
Her tone dripped with sarcasm. Several guests exchanged glances, clearly enjoying the drama.
Vrinda stiffened, eyes dropping to her lap.
Arjun's jaw tightened, but before he could open his mouth, Aarti spoke calmly, "Accidents can happen in any home, Mrs. Chatterjee. I'm just grateful no one was seriously hurt."
Jhimli's lips curled. "Of course. Though in my family, we take great care to ensure such things don't happen. Perhaps… too many mixed energies under one roof can cause such mishaps?"
The implication hung in the air like poison.
Arjun took a step forward, but Jarnail's low, commanding voice stopped him.
"Aarti."
She turned to see him standing by the staircase, expression unreadable. "Come with me. Now."
Aarti hesitated only a moment before giving Veer's hand a reassuring squeeze and following her husband upstairs.
Down below, Badshah clapped his hands, his booming voice breaking the tension.
"Arre, enough of this talk! This is Vrinda's day, and nothing will spoil it. Music, dholak—start again!"
The musicians hesitated, then resumed their rhythm, and slowly, the guests returned to the dance floor. But the festive mood had dimmed, and Arjun's sharp eyes kept darting to every shadowed corner of the room.
---
Upstairs – The Confrontation
Jarnail closed the door to their room with a quiet click. He turned to Aarti, his face hard as stone.
"Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt just now?" he said, voice low but seething. "In front of all those people, that woman taunted my family—and what did you do? Defended her?"
"I defended our daughter," Aarti replied firmly. "And I will do it again if anyone tries to shame her."
Jarnail's eyes narrowed. "This isn't just about Vrinda. Something is wrong in this house. Accidents, whispers, strange happenings… and they all started after you came into my life."
Aarti's breath caught. "What are you implying, Jarnail?"
"That you bring misfortune with you," he snapped. "Ever since I married you, nothing has been at peace."
Aarti flinched as though struck, but she stood her ground. "I have given nothing but love to this family, Jarnail. I have raised Veer and Vrinda as my own. If you still cannot see that after all these years, then perhaps the misfortune lies not with me… but with your inability to trust."
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Jarnail turned away, fists clenched, unable—or unwilling—to answer.
Aarti's last words hung in the air like a final strike, but instead of calming Jarnail, they ignited something darker in him.
"You're right," he said suddenly, his tone low, almost chilling. "You aren't the inauspicious one."
Aarti blinked, startled by the shift in his voice. "What do you mean?"
Jarnail turned, eyes cold as steel.
"It's your son," he spat. "Since the day you brought him into this world, this family has been cursed. Do you think I've forgotten how we had to abandon our ancestral home because of those… unnatural incidents? Or how every year since then, something strange—something unexplainable—has threatened this family?"
Aarti stepped back, her lips trembling. "Jarnail… don't—"
"I want to know," he cut her off, stepping closer, his words laced with venom, "which inauspicious man planted him in your womb?"
Aarti froze, her breath catching in her throat.
At the door, unseen by them, Arjun stood in the hallway. He had come to call them back to the function, but now he stood rooted to the spot, every word slicing through him like a blade. His playful smirk—his shield—faded away as he listened.
Inside, Aarti's hands clenched into fists. "Don't you dare question my character, Jarnail," she whispered, fury and pain intermingling in her voice.
"I don't have to," Jarnail said coldly. "The proof is right there, running around this house, bringing ruin with him. And now—now he dares to make a scene in front of our guests? Not anymore."
He pointed toward the door.
"Send him away from the function. I don't care how. I don't want him near Vrinda's in-laws or anywhere they can see him. Do you understand?"
Aarti's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't—he's her brother—"
"You will do as I say," Jarnail snapped, his voice a harsh whip. "Or so help me, Aarti, you will see a side of me you wish you never had."
Aarti swallowed hard, fighting back tears, but said nothing.
In the hallway, Arjun silently backed away, heart pounding, his chest tight. For the first time in his life, the house that had always felt suffocating now felt hostile. He glanced at his reflection in a decorative mirror on the wall.
For a fleeting moment—just a blink—he saw something flicker in his eyes. A spark of blue light.
He blinked again, and it was gone.
Arjun took a deep breath, wiping any trace of emotion from his face. When he stepped forward and pushed open the door, his trademark grin was back in place, bright and teasing.
"There you two are!" he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "The guests are asking for the royal hosts. Come on, Dad—you can't hide up here and make me do all the work."
Jarnail gave him a brief, unreadable glance, then turned to Aarti. "Don't forget what I said," he muttered low enough for only her to hear. Then, without another word, he brushed past Arjun and strode down the hall.
Arjun straightened, still smiling, as if nothing had happened. When the sound of Jarnail's footsteps faded, he looked at his mother.
She was standing there, tears shimmering in her eyes.
"Ma…" Arjun said softly, stepping closer. "I… I'm sorry. I won't be able to stay for Vrinda's mehendi. One of my friends—it's his birthday today. I promised him I'd come."
His voice was casual, even playful, but his eyes didn't quite meet hers.
Aarti's lips trembled. She knew her son—knew his every excuse, his every mask. She didn't call him out. Instead, she pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as if she could shield him from the world.
Arjun hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder for just a moment before pulling away with his usual lopsided grin.
"Don't miss me too much, okay? And save me some laddoos," he joked, winking as he turned and walked away.
Aarti watched him go, her heart breaking silently. She knew he had heard everything.