Page 4 of Protect my Heart
My steps are hard and fast against the marble floor. “What’s going on?” I ask as I move through the mansion, the atmosphere tense.
“He ran away,” Samarth says, his voice low. “When he heard you were coming, he bolted. Left his bride standing there.” He pauses before adding, “And… and…”
“And what?” I press, raking my hand through my hair.
Before he can answer, I push open the glass door to the garden, and the cold wind hits my face, sending a chill down my spine. The last thing I expect is exactly what I see. He left his bride at the aisle.
Well, it’s expected. He’s Vikram Khanna—the most selfish man I’ve ever known.
The garden is bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, the fragrance of roses lingering in the air. Everything is set up for the perfect wedding. Tables are draped in white linen, silverware sparkling under the lights, delicate floral arrangements everywhere.
A stage is set up near the house, with sheer drapes and twinkling lights. And there, in the middle of it all, is the bride in her wedding attire. She turns around.
My breath catches in my throat and the world around me stills. My heart beats painfully in my chest.
It’s her.
It’s Anika. My Anu.
An ache blooms in my chest. I haven’t seen her in twelve years. But there she is, standing in front of me, more beautiful than I remember. She hasn’t changed at all—yet she has. Her eyes widen in shock as she locks eyes with me. I can feel the years of distance, the weight of everything unsaid between us, crushing down on me.
A thousand emotions hit me all at once—shock, regret, anger, and a wave of attraction that makes my heart beat faster.
I’m frozen, just staring at her. Her hair is dark and silky, framing her face the way it used to, drawing me in. She still hasn’t changed her hairstyle. Her eyes—those eyes—black and bottomless—still have that same depth, that same pull.
She’s in bridal attire that makes her look like a goddess I want to worship. She’s breathtaking.
But not as his wife.
A burning sensation engulfs me despite the cold night. I hadn’t expected to see her here. Not at Vikram’s wedding, of all places. Not as his bride. The thought alone makes my stomach turn. If I hadn’t come, she would’ve been his wife. I grit my teeth.
“Aarav, get a grip,” Samarth says, lightly patting me on the back, trying to pull me out of my trance. How can I? She’s standing right there, in a wedding dress. This is the day I dreamt about. The day I always imagined. Except she looks even more stunning than I ever imagined.
I imagined her in bridal attire—for me. How the hell am I supposed to keep it together?
We’re locked in a gaze, and I can feel the weight of everything we’ve been through in the silence between us. The words we never spoke. The promises we never kept.
“Aarav?”
Her voice breaks through the haze. I know that voice. How could I not? I spent years in her house, with her. We were inseparable.
“Is this all because of you?” Her mother rushes forward, her face etched with worry and despair, and she attacks me with questions. She has aged a lot. I don’t answer. Her voice cracks as she steps back, tears welling in her eyes.
“Why, Aarav? Why did you do this?” she exclaims. “He ran away. He left her. And now who’s going to marry her?”
I turn to face her, the weight of her words pressing down on me. She continues, her voice breaking, “I raised her alone for so many years. I finally thought she could be happy.”
Happy with Vikram? How naïve.
“She could have everything. The life she deserves. But you… you took it away from her. Why, Aarav? What did we do to deserve this?”
I stand there, speechless, as Anika and I continue to stare at each other. Her mother’s cries fill the space between us, each sob a heavy blow.
Anika steps closer to her mother, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maa, please,” she urges her to stop, softly. “I told you I’ll be okay. Please don’t let this affect your health. It will be okay.”
Her voice hits me like a wave. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. I’ve missed hearing that voice.
Her mother shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want you to have the same future as me,” she says, her voice trembling. Her mother looks at her, helplessness visible on her face. “Working hard. Struggling. I wanted you to have everything. A comfortable life. No pressure. Who will marry you now? Vikram left you, and once people know…” Her voice falters, fear consuming her wholly as she visibly shakes.
