Yuktha
The scent of marigolds and sandalwood hung heavy in the airmixing with the chatter of hundreds of guests gathered at the sprawling Mehrotra estate. The grand hall, adorned with cascading golden drapes and intricate floral arrangements, glittered like a dream. Yet for me, it felt more like a gilded cage.
My hands clutched the ends of my crimson saree weighing heavy on my body and stared at myself in the antique mirror. The weight of diamond studded mangalsutra threatened to choke around my neck. A sigh left my lips, my heart stirring in anxiety on what is about to come.
"Done playing perfect bride, huh?" a deep, teasing voice pulled out of my spiralling thoughts.
I turned to find Avyan Mehrotra leaning casually against the doorframe, his mischievous grin firmly in place. The golden sherwani he wore seemed an afterthought, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement.
"You're supposed to be out there entertaining the guests, Mr. Rockstar," I shot back, straightening my posture. Did he notice my mini panic attack?
Avyan shrugged, stepping into the room. "Entertaining's your job now, isn't it, bhabhi? Or is it Mrs. Mehrotra?"
My glare cut sharper than a knife, but Avyan only laughed, the sound rich and carefree. "Relax, Yuktha. I'm just messing with you. You'll get used to us. Trust me, we're not as bad as we look."
Before I could retort, another voice broke through, firm and composed.
"Avyan, leave her alone."
Agastya Mehrotra stepped in, his tall frame commanding attention even in the simplest ivory sherwani. His gaze flickered to mine briefly, warm and reassuring, before landing on his younger brother with a warning.
"Go. The family's waiting."
Avyan rolled his eyes but obeyed, muttering something under his breath as he exited. Agastya and I were left in the sudden quiet.
"You don't have to look so uneasy," Agastya said gently, his voice laced with sincerity. "We're strangers now, but that doesn't mean it will always be this way."
Strangers. That word settled heavily in her chest. Yuktha knew he meant it as a comfort, but it only reminded her of the vast distance between her and the life she had just entered.
"I'm not here for family politics. I'm here for my career." I came to the point. Directly.
Agastya's lips quirked into a small smile. "Fair enough. But you're part of this family now. Whether you want to be or not."
Something in his tone unsettled her, but she pushed it aside. This wasn't the time to overthink. She had made her choice, and now, she had to live with it.
"Are they waiting for us?" she asked, smoothing the pleats of her saree.
"They are," he confirmed, stepping aside to let her pass.
As she walked down the lavishly decorated hall, the weight of her decision pressed down on her shoulders. The applause, the laughter, the congratulatory smiles—they were all part of the performance.
But deep down, Yuktha knew one thing: she hadn't stepped into this family to be another Mehrotra trophy.
She had stepped into this world to make her own rules. And if that meant breaking a few along the way, so be it.
========
The grand hall was a cacophony of voices and laughter, the kind that came from people who thrived in the spotlight. Yuktha moved through the crowd with practiced grace, her posture perfect, her expression serene. A sea of unfamiliar faces greeted her, each one trying to gauge her worth as the new Mrs. Mehrotra.
She hated it. The judgment, the stares, the fake smiles. But she smiled back, because that's what was expected.
Beside her, Agastya kept a steady pace, his presence a reassuring shadow. The man might be her husband on paper, but at least he seemed determined to make this ordeal easier.
"Just a few more introductions," he murmured, his tone soft. "Then you can slip away."
She tilted her head slightly, a small nod of acknowledgment. "Generous of you, Mr. Mehrotra."
He chuckled under his breath, but the sound was cut off as they approached the center of the hall.
There he stood. Yugarth Mehrotra.
Tall, sharp, and as unapproachable as a fortress. His midnight-black suit was tailored to perfection, his expression unreadable. If Agastya was the calming presence, Yugarth was the storm. The air around him seemed to crackle with authority, his mere gaze enough to silence any lingering whispers.
"Yugarth," Agastya said, his tone polite yet familiar. "Meet Yuktha."
For a moment, Yugarth's cold, piercing eyes settled on her, and Yuktha fought the instinct to step back. His gaze was intense, dissecting her in a way that felt both unnerving and infuriating.
"Mrs. Mehrotra," he said finally, his voice low and clipped. "Welcome to the family."
The words were polite, but there was no warmth in them. Yuktha lifted her chin, refusing to let him intimidate her.
"Thank you, Mr. Mehrotra," she replied, her tone matching his frost.
A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—passed through his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure.
"Don't expect too much warmth from him," came Avyan's voice as he sauntered over, a glass of champagne in hand. "That's just his way of saying he'll be watching your every move."
Yugarth shot his younger brother a sharp look, but Avyan only grinned.
"Am I wrong?" Avyan asked, taking a sip of his drink.
"Don't you have a stage to be on?" Yugarth replied, his tone icy.
"Relax, big brother," Avyan said with a wink. "I'll serenade the guests soon enough. I just wanted to meet the woman who's already more interesting than half the people here."
Yuktha raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how?"
Avyan's grin widened. "You're the only one who hasn't wilted under Yugarth's glare yet. Impressive."
Before Yuktha could respond, a voice called out from the stage, announcing Avyan's name. He gave an exaggerated bow and sauntered off, leaving her alone with the two brothers.
Agastya, sensing the tension, stepped in. "Yugarth, maybe give her some breathing room. She's had a long day."
Yugarth's expression didn't change, but he gave a curt nod. "I'll leave you to it, then. But don't forget, Yuktha—being a Mehrotra isn't just a name. It's a responsibility. I hope you're ready for that."
With that, he turned and walked away, his presence leaving a palpable void.
Yuktha exhaled quietly, her hands tightening into fists. The audacity of this man.
"Don't take it personally," Agastya said softly. "That's just Yugarth."
"I don't take anything personally," she replied, her voice firm. "But if he thinks I'm someone he can push around, he's in for a surprise."
Agastya smiled faintly, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Good. He's not used to surprises."
As the music swelled and Avyan's voice filled the room, Yuktha allowed herself a small, determined smile.
The Mehrotras might think they knew her, but they didn't. Not yet. And she'd make sure they never forgot her.
====
I looked around to find everybody immersed in whatever show Avyan was putting up on the stage.
"I need air." I whisper to Agastya. Not waiting for his response, I leave my seat and tip toe into the sprawling balcony.
The view was breathtaking. The city stretched out before me, a sea of lights twinkling like stars, but my mind was too heavy to appreciate the beauty. I leaned against the cold railing, my thoughts swirling.
This wasn't how I imagined my life would turn out. I had always dreamed of independence, of making a name for myself in my field. Instead, I had been thrown into a family that felt more like a web of power plays than a home.
"Regretting your decision already, Mrs. Mehrotra?"
The deep voice startled me, but I didn't turn around. I knew who it was before he stepped into my peripheral vision.
Yugarth.
"I didn't take you for the lurking type," I replied, my tone sharp as I stared out at the city.
He moved closer, his footsteps silent on the marble floor. "And I didn't take you for someone who avoids confrontation. Yet here you are, hiding."
I finally turned to face him, my eyes narrowing. "I'm not hiding. I'm thinking. Not that it's any of your business."
He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You're right. It's not. But in this family, everyone's business becomes everyone else's eventually."
"I don't intend to be anyone's business, Mr. Mehrotra," I shot back, my voice firm.
His expression shifted, the smirk fading. For a moment, he studied her, as if trying to decide if she was worth the effort. Then, without warning, he spoke.
"Do you know why you're here, Yuktha?"
The question caught me off guard. "I'm here because—"
"Because your father is a family friend," he interrupted, his voice low and sharp. "Because this marriage benefits both sides. Because you're useful to the Mehrotras."
His words were a cold slap, but I didn't flinch. Instead, I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze.
"Let me guess," I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. "You're here to remind me of my place. To tell me how little I matter in the grand scheme of things."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, gone almost as quickly as it came.
"No," he said simply. "I'm here to tell you that you matter more than you realize. Which is why you'll be watched. Closely."
The cryptic statement hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. My mind raced, trying to piece together his intentions, but Yugarth offered no explanation.
Instead, he stepped back, his dark gaze still locked on mine. "Enjoy the quiet while you can, Mrs. Mehrotra."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her pulse pounding in her ears.
The sound of footsteps fading into the night wasn't enough to drown out the unease creeping into my chest. Something about his words, his tone, felt like a warning.
Or maybe it was a challenge.
And I had never been the one to back down from a challenge.
===
Meanwhile, in a shadowed corner of the estate...
The figure watched as Yugarth disappeared into the hall, his expression unreadable. His hand tightened around the glass in his hand as he murmured to himself.
"So, the game begins."
The man turned and slipped into the darkness, leaving no trace of his presence, but the seeds of intrigue had already been sown.
===
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