Meera's
I was straightening the bed in my room this morning, but my heart wasn't in it. It had been a month since my marriage, and yet this morning felt no different from the rest—dull, heavy, soaked in sadness.
Why sadness? Because the man I married disappeared the very next morning after our wedding. And today, I've heard he's finally coming back.
Am I happy? Am I sad? I honestly don't know. All I do know is that his presence—or his absence—changes nothing for me. He can never bring me happiness.
My name is Meera, 28 years old, a government school teacher. My marriage was arranged six months ago. Like every other girl in my society, I was told I wasn't "settled" until I married, no matter how independent I was. I had a good salary, I could take care of myself—but apparently, I was still "incomplete." My parents, my relatives, society—all of them reminded me daily.
Finally, the pressure won.
But on the day of my wedding, my would-be groom never even showed up. He only sent me a message: "I can't marry you. I love someone else. I can't live without her."
Five months of engagement, and only on the wedding day he remembered he was in love?
My father, a heart patient, collapsed the moment he heard. We were terrified something would happen to him. That's when his closest friend, Mukesh Sharma, stepped in. He told my father not to worry—Meera would be married that very day, and to his own son, Dr. Akash Sharma, a well-known cardiologist.
No one asked me what I wanted. The decision was made in minutes.
I had no choice but to wear the same bridal outfit I'd worn for someone else and marry Akash. The family rejoiced as if nothing had happened, as if I wasn't shattered inside. But I saw Akash's face—his eyes burning with anger. Nobody else noticed. Just as no one saw my pain, no one cared about his either.
I wanted to speak with him, to explain that I too had been forced into this. But there was no time. When I protested, my mother silenced me with one sentence:
"If you refuse, your father will die."
What could I do? That's how I became Meera Sharma, Akash's wife.
That night, I waited for him. Not with excitement, but with hope—hope that we could talk, decide what to do with a marriage neither of us wanted.
He came at 2 a.m. His eyes were swollen, as if he had been crying. But instead of words of understanding, he exploded.
"Listen, Meera," he said, his voice sharp, "I will never accept you as my wife. This marriage was forced on me. The only reason I agreed was because your father is my patient, and I knew he couldn't handle the shock. Otherwise, I would never have married a girl like you. Do you even know what you look like? No style, no beauty. You're not even close to my standard."
I stood frozen, listening, my heart sinking deeper with every word.
Then he pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. A beautiful woman smiled from the screen.
"This is Neha Verma," he said proudly. "We studied together in medical college. She was the most beautiful girl in college, and she loves me. She's also a cardiologist. She is the kind of woman who deserves to be my wife—not you. You're just an ordinary schoolteacher. Do you really think we're a match? Don't even dream about it. I will never accept you as my wife."
And with that, he stormed out, leaving me broken on the floor.
If only my marriage hadn't happened, I would have been fine. I didn't need him. I didn't need anyone. But now I was trapped in a marriage with a man who valued only appearances, who didn't even care to ask what I felt.
I wanted to scream that I too had been forced, blackmailed into this. But it didn't matter. He was too arrogant, too blind to see anything beyond his own pride.
That night, I cried myself to sleep on the cold floor.
The next morning, I woke up to the soft knock of my sister-in-law, Shruti.
"Bhabhi, don't take bhaiya's words to heart," she tried to comfort me. "Everything happened so suddenly—that's why he reacted this way. If anyone asks where he went, just say he had a medical camp scheduled in a village before the wedding. He left after a fight with Papa last night, and we don't know when he'll be back. But please… give him some time."
I nodded silently. That day turned into a month.
A whole month passed without Akash.
But in that month, something surprising happened. His family—my in-laws—were nothing like him. They treated me with respect and warmth. It was a joint family, and I had known them since childhood, which made it easier. Slowly, I found a little space of comfort in that house.
This morning, everyone was talking about Akash's return. But I wasn't excited. I wasn't planning anything special. For me, his return meant nothing. In fact, I was already thinking about divorce. As soon as Papa's health stabilized, I would explain to him that I didn't need a man to live my life—especially not a man like Akash.
I went downstairs to the breakfast table. My brother-in-law Rohan teased me, "Bhabhi, bhaiya is coming back today. Shouldn't you wear some makeup and stay home instead of going to school?"
I ignored him.
My mother-in-law, Rekha Sharma, my biggest supporter in this house, spoke firmly, "Meera doesn't need to stay back for anyone. Her job is important. Akash will be here, but her work won't wait."
I smiled faintly.
She handed me a lunchbox. "Eat properly, beta. You hardly eat these days. One paratha won't keep you going."
My father-in-law added, "Yes, Meera, you've been losing weight. Please take care."
I just nodded.
Rohan smirked, "Bhabhi is losing weight for bhaiya, isn't she?" Everyone laughed.
But Shruti defended me immediately, "Why should she? She's already beautiful the way she is."
"Ha! Says the one who really needs to lose weight!" Rohan shot back, and the two of them began their usual sibling quarrel.
At that moment, Akash's uncle, Suresh Sharma, walked in. "Meera, I'm dropping Dugu to school," he said, referring to his 10-year-old son. "I can drop you too."
"Thank you, Chacha ji," I replied softly. "But my school is in the opposite direction. I'll take an auto—it's more comfortable for me."
Rekha ji, my mother-in-law—whom I had begun calling Mama because she understood me more than my own mother ever did—spoke up again. "Let her do what she's comfortable with, Suresh."
And so, after bidding goodbye to everyone, I left for school, carrying not just my books but also the heavy weight of a marriage I never chose.
Akash's POV
I lit another cigarette, even though I knew Neha hated it. My mind wasn't working properly. How the hell was I supposed to stay in that house—sharing the same room with her? With Meera.
I had already left my last job, thinking I'd settle in another city—far away from her face, far away from everything she stood for. But now I had no choice but to go back.
Neha's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Akash, we're both cardiologists. You know smoking is dangerous for your heart, and still you're doing it."
I sighed and replied, "You don't understand, Neha. I'm stressed. That girl, Meera, she's the most typical Indian girl you could imagine. The kind you see in those serials you hate. I've seen her since childhood—always in her traditional clothes, never daring to try anything different. That alone tells me how narrow her thinking must be. And now, when I go back, she'll try everything possible to make me accept her as my wife. She'll play the role of the perfect woman—caring, obedient, waiting on my every word. I can literally picture her at my feet, saying 'Whatever you say, Akash, I'll do it. I'll be your loyal wife forever.'"
Neha smirked. "So you're scared she'll care so much that you'll actually fall for her?"
I scoffed. "Fall for her? Neha, she would be the last girl on this earth I'd ever love."
She looked at me seriously. "Akash, have you ever even loved anyone? You still haven't said 'I love you too' to me."
I exhaled. "You see how my life is right now. Let me settle things first. I'll say it, Neha, I will. I'll get rid of Meera from my life and then marry you. Because honestly, I can't find anyone better than you."
Her silence made me restless. So I changed the subject. "Anyway, I can't refuse the offer from City Hospital. It's just 5 kilometers from my home. I'll be joining there as a cardiologist from Monday. It's too big an opportunity to let go."
She smiled faintly. "Then good luck. What about Meera? Do you think she's really like the girl you're describing?"
"Of course she is. Who wouldn't want to win me over? Look at me—I'm handsome, charming. Even you fell for this face, didn't you? And unfortunately, since I'm her husband, she'll try even harder to impress me. But don't worry, Neha. You don't need to be afraid of her."
Neha chuckled. "All the best, Akash."
"Yeah," I muttered with a smirk. "Poor girl's heart will break again today."
And with that thought, I left for home.
When I reached at 12 PM, everyone was there—everyone except Meera. For a moment, my heart leapt. Could she have left for good? Did my plan actually work?
But my mother seemed upset with me. Others talked warmly, my aunt Geeta hugged me and showered her usual affection, but my mother's silence weighed on me. Still, I knew I could manage her. I always did.
I went to my room and immediately noticed it smelled different—fresh, like flowers. My brows furrowed. Her things were everywhere. So she's claimed my room now.
Yet strangely, none of my things had been touched. Everything was in its exact place. That was unusual for her.
I shook the thought away and went through my documents, preparing for Monday. Soon, I drifted into sleep.
When I woke, it was 4 PM. I headed to the kitchen, where I found my aunt Geeta. She hugged me, her eyes soft with love. "We missed you so much, Akash. Little Duggu asks about you every day. He even went to your room today, but you were sleeping. Now he's napping."
I smiled faintly. "I missed you too, Aunty. And Duggu, of course."
She quickly served me coffee and snacks. Just then, Shruti entered, her eyes sharp.
"Was this the right thing to do, Akash bhaiya ?" she asked.
I frowned. "Shruti, you're younger than me. Don't question me like that."
She stormed off, angry. I didn't want to upset her, so after finishing my coffee, I went to her room and apologized. We talked a little, and her mood lightened.
Later, I returned to my room. By now, it was 6 PM. Still no Meera. Her school ends at 4, even with traffic it shouldn't take more than an hour. Why is she so late today?
I caught myself thinking too much. Why should I even care? It's better if she never comes back. Then my life could finally be normal again.
At 7 PM, the door opened. Meera walked in. She glanced at me but said nothing. My lips curved into a hidden smile. Now she'll come to me, apologize, beg even. Perfect—time to remind her of her place.
But instead, she placed her bag in the cupboard, pulled out her clothes, and went straight to the bathroom.
I stared. Strange… but fine. She'll talk when she comes out.
Except she didn't. She changed, picked up her things, and walked straight out of the room. No words. Nothing.
It bothered me more than I wanted to admit. What's she trying to do? Pretend she's angry? Make me approach her first? Impossible. How can she live with such a big misunderstanding?
At dinner, I noticed her laughing and talking happily with my mother, Aunty, and Shruti. She didn't even glance my way. I ate silently and went back to my room.
At 10:30 PM, she finally came in. I was lying on the bed, pretending to sleep. My heart beat faster. Now she'll say sorry. She has to.
She walked to my side of the bed… paused… and then said,
"The pillow you're holding? My book is under it. Can you pass it to me? And one pillow too."
I blinked in disbelief. That was it? That's all she had to say?
Wordlessly, I handed her the pillow and the book. Instead of joining me on the bed, she settled on the sofa, opened the book, and began reading.
Unbelievable. She wasn't even going to sleep beside me.
Well, fine. She just made everything easier for me. I was wondering how I'd tolerate sharing the bed anyway.
Ten minutes later, I switched off the lights and closed my eyes. She continued reading, using her phone's light.
It was as if I didn't exist at all.
The next morning, she woke at 6 AM, freshened up, and lit an incense stick—the same floral scent from yesterday. She left the room, only to return fifteen minutes later with two cups of coffee.
I pretended to sleep as she set one on the table and sipped the other quietly.
Finally, I got up and said, "Meera, you don't need to do all this, okay?"
She looked at me briefly. "Aunty gave me two cups. S
he told me to give you one. From tomorrow, I won't bring it."
And that was it. No sweetness, no effort to impress, no act of a dutiful wife.
For the first time, I wondered—
Maybe Meera isn't the kind of girl I thought she was.