The Oberoi mansion was a whirlwind of activity and luxury.
Chandeliers sparkled like stars. Expensive tapestries from Europe were being hung in the hallways.
Soft fabrics in shades of blush, gold, and ivory draped the stair railings. The entire house smelled of roses, jasmine, and lavender flowers flown in from a top florist in Paris just for the occasion.
A famous event planner had arrived from Dubai. Invitations were being handmade in Italy.
Riya's outfits were being tailored by a legendary French designer. Every detail was perfect like something out of a fairy tale.
In the garden, daily dance rehearsals took over the afternoons. Pinky, Roy, and Alina were all there, learning steps from choreographers flown in from Mumbai and Jaipur. Music played, people laughed, and the whole house buzzed with excitement.
Everyone was glowing with joy.
Everyone except Kavi.
He had become a shadow in his own home.
Where he once filled rooms with his energy, now he moved through them like a ghost. His face looked pale, his eyes tired.
He skipped meals, ignored texts, and avoided rehearsals. Most people assumed it was wedding stress or just Kavi being dramatic.
No one really noticed.
Except one.
"Beta."
The voice was gentle, but steady. Warm. Familiar.
Kavi looked up from the edge of his bed, where he sat in his robe, not having moved much all morning. Standing in the doorway was Amma, the head housekeeper—but really, she had always been more like a second mother.
She had cared for Kavi since he was born. She rocked him to sleep as a baby, taught him to braid Riya's hair, and snuck him sweets when his parents weren't looking. She knew him in ways no one else ever could.
Today, she held a plate in her hands simple dal, rice, and a little mango pickle.
"You haven't eaten in two days," she said softly, walking in. "You think I wouldn't notice?"
Kavi didn't say anything. He just looked away.
Amma sat beside him and placed the tray on his lap. "Eat," she said, gently brushing his hair back like she used to when he was little. "Don't make Amma feed you like a child."
He picked up a bit of rice.
"I know your heart is heavy," she whispered. "But starving your body won't make it lighter."
Kavi took a bite. The familiar taste nearly brought tears to his eyes.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
He looked down, expecting a reminder or group message about rehearsals.
But no.
"It's me. Kiaan. We need to talk."
Kavi stared at the message. It felt like a punch to the gut.
He stood up suddenly, mumbling, "Amma… I'll be right back."
Before she could reply, he rushed to the bathroom.
His stomach twisted. The food…his first proper meal in days, came right back up. He leaned over the sink, shaking, the bitter taste burning his throat.
Tears rolled down his cheeks without warning.
Was it the message? The memories? The pain that had been building for over a year?
Probably all of it.
He splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror. His reflection shocked him. Pale skin. Red eyes. He barely looked like himself anymore.
Outside, Amma waited quietly. She had heard the vomiting, but said nothing. She always knew when to stay silent.
When Kavi returned to the bedroom, drying his mouth with a towel, Amma gave him a look only she could give full of love, concern, and unspoken questions.
"I'm okay," he said softly, though he clearly wasn't.
She nodded. Not convinced, but not pushing either.
"I'll come back later," she said, picking up the untouched tray. "Try to rest."
Kavi nodded, his eyes already back on the phone.
The message from Kiaan still glowed on the screen like a landmine.
He didn't know what to do. Throw the phone? Reply? Scream? Cry? Run to Kiaan?
He didn't even know what he wanted.
But one thing was certain…
He wasn't ready.
Not yet.