"Yes, Mom, I'm ready!" I shout back, trying to sound normal... though one look in the mirror and I want to scream.
God, what am I supposed to do with these puffy eyes?
More makeup, I guess.
I'm getting dressed to go wedding shopping-with my mother, my sister, my in-laws, and my future darling fiancé.
My sister and my fiancé... whom I caught sleeping with each other less than five hours ago, will now be smiling and posing with me while I pick my wedding outfit.
But do I have a choice?
A big, fat no.
What I do have, however, is a plan. Because no matter how many curveballs life throws at me, yes-I may cry more than Neha Kakkar-but I always pull myself together and switch straight into my Kangana Ranaut mode.
If destiny thinks it can hand me a pathetic, cheating husband...
I'll make sure to choose myself first - even if it breaks a few hearts and a few expectations along the way.
I take a deep breath, dab a little extra concealer under my swollen eyes, and smile at my reflection.
A weak smile, yes. But still a smile.
"Let's go," I whisper to myself.
I walk out of my room, and there they are - the happy couple, pretending to be saints.
My sister scrolling on her phone like she wasn't moaning in his arms a few hours ago.
My fiancé standing stiffly, trying not to meet my eyes.
Cute.
Look at them... acting.
I feel a tug in my chest - hurt, betrayal, disbelief - all twisting together. Hmm i can do this.
But instead of breaking down, I straighten my back.
My mother rolls her eyes the moment she sees me.
Yeah, yeah, I know I'm late - what can I say? I had to cancel my suicide plan... again, I think bitterly.
The only person who greets me with a genuine, warm smile is my future mother-in-law, Mishka Mehra.
She's truly a darling - one of those rare, honest souls you hardly find anymore. Whatever she feels shows on her face instantly. If she loves you, it's obvious in her eyes. And if she doesn't... well, she'll remind you of it every second without bothering to sugarcoat anything.
And by God's grace, I fall in the first category.
Unfortunately, my mother belongs to the latter.
____________
"Come, beta. You'll come in my car!"
"Yes, aunty," I reply softly.
Mishka aunty gives me a warm smile-one of those rare, genuine ones. But before I can move, my mother steps forward.
"No, Mishka ji. Riya will come with me," she says with that familiar tight smile I've grown to dread.
God, I hate that smile. It's the same one she gave my teacher while saying, "Yes, Riya beta can go on the college trip."
And the same smile she wore right before-
Slap.
The sting explodes across my cheek.
"How dare you! You want to go on that trip just to enjoy with your boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend? Mom, what are you even talking about?"
"Shut up!"
Her voice cuts like a knife.
"Neha already told me everything."
I look at my sister, stunned. Neha just stares back at me, blank, emotionless. As far as I know, I don't even have a boyfriend. I barely have friends.
"She told us Siddhant is your boyfriend."
"What? Mom, Siddhant is her boyfriend!"
"Enough, Riya!"
Another slap.
"How dare you blame your younger sister? Your father caught Siddhant climbing your bedroom window early this morning."
My breath freezes.
I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"I'm done with your lies. Stay inside this room for the entire vacation."
Before I can speak, she storms out.
A moment later, Neha slips inside.
"I'm sorry, di... but what was I supposed to do?"
Her voice is cold, almost casual.
"Siddhant climbed the wrong window, and when Mom and Dad questioned me, I told them it was you. And honestly... it doesn't really matter, right? You're used to being scolded anyway. So what's the big deal?"
Her words hit harder than the slaps.
And today, I saw it again. I'm sure my sister must have told my mother that it was somehow my fault that she and my fiancé were caught cheating. Right-my fault. And my mother, as always, wants to overlook everything.
"Riya, come with us," she said. I was about to comply, like I always do, when I felt someone gently tug my hand.
"No, Niharika ji. My daughter-in-law will come with me," Mishka Mehra said firmly and made me sit beside her.
I was stunned. For the first time in my life, I saw someone openly defy my mother. And suddenly, I had a newfound respect for Mishka Mehra-my future mother-in-law.
______________
Here is a polished, emotionally rich and smoothly narrated version of your scene, with stronger flow, clearer emotions, and a cinematic finish:
The day I had been dreading turned unexpectedly beautiful—because of her.
Every time my mother or sister tried to demean me, she stepped in before I could even react. It's not that I'm weak or spineless. I can fight back. But when it comes to family… over the years I've simply become a pushover. Not because I can't answer them—because even if I do, nothing changes. They'll never become good. And I'll be the one left alone.
That fear has always kept me swallowing every insult.
But this whole marriage barter… then catching my sister with my fiancé… and watching my family react like I was the problem—that was the final straw. I need to find a way out. Because there is no chance in hell I'm marrying that cheater.
After the shopping fiasco, Mishka Mehra dropped me home.
This little place… it's the only space that feels warm, safe—mine. At twenty-one, I walked out of my family home and hilariously, no one even tried to stop me. I don't think anyone cares where I live. Honestly, that's fine. At least here, the air isn't toxic.
After a shower, I ordered some food and slipped into my black silk nighty. God, what a feeling. Soft, cool, comforting.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Finally—my food. A proper meal at last. I refuse to acknowledge that "salad lunch" my mother proudly paraded as food.
I opened the door—
And came face-to-face with an Indian god.
Dark black eyes. A razor-sharp nose. Lips—full, soft-looking, sinful. A jawline carved like it was sculpted in obsession.
Clad in a perfectly fitted black suit.
Someone clearly has a thing for black.
He smirked. "If you're done checking me out, would you mind calling me inside, Rain?"
I snapped out of my la-la land instantly.
"What—Rain? Wait a minute, I think you're at the wrong house. I'm Riya."
"Hm. I'm in the right house, love." His smirk deepened.
"What?"
His gaze swept over me again, slower this time, and his grin widened.
Only then did I realize what I was wearing.
Oh. My. God.
The nighty. The silk nighty.
Mortified, I grabbed my shrug and wrapped it around myself like armor.
"Okay—stop your riddles and tell me who you want to meet."
The grin vanished. His eyes hardened with purpose.
"I'm Kabeer Malhotra," he said, voice calm, commanding. "CEO of Arka Group. And I'm here to propose to you."
A beat.
"Will you marry me?"
I blinked.
"What!!!!???"