Rithanya sat in silence, her fingers resting loosely in her lap.
Everything had happened exactly as she had once imagined.
And yet… it didn’t feel like it.
A quiet happiness lingered somewhere within her, distant and unfamiliar—like something she was meant to feel, not something she truly did.
Beneath it, a steady unease remained, subtle yet persistent.
This wasn’t how it was meant to be.
Her thoughts circled back, returning to the same question.
What was so different this time?
Her father had turned away far greater proposals without hesitation.
It wasn’t the dowry.
It wasn’t the business offers.
Then why this one?
Her gaze fell upon the jewellery laid before her—the intricate designs catching the light, flawless, almost too perfect.
Or was it something else entirely…
Something she wasn’t meant to know?
Her fingers stilled.
For a moment, the thought lingered—sharp and unsettling.
Then she pushed it away.
With a quiet breath, she folded the saree and placed each piece of jewellery back into its box with practiced care, as though sealing away her questions along with them.
She carried the tray to her stepmother’s room.
“Maa, may I come in?” she asked gently.
“Yes, my dear.”
Kaamini Rani turned toward her, seated calmly.
“Should I keep these in the cupboard?” Rithanya asked.
“No hurry. Just place them on the table.”
The calmness in her tone felt unusual. There was no insistence, no caution—nothing like before.
Rithanya paused for a brief moment… then set the tray down.
A few days later, a staff member from Devendra Pratap’s jewellery business arrived at the Aranthads’ residence.
Velvet trays were laid out, each adorned with finely crafted ornaments. The women gathered around, their admiration quiet but unmistakable as each piece passed from hand to hand.
“This is exquisite…” one of them murmured.
Before long, word spread beyond the house.
Curiosity drew a few villagers in… but it was the jewellery that held them there. What began as hesitant glances soon turned into eager selections.
Maheshwar Swamy watched in silence.
“Select what you need,” he said calmly. “And a few more for the upcoming ceremony.”
The choices were made quickly.
The interest was evident.
Yet something about it felt… deliberate.
As the days passed, the house filled with the sounds of preparation.
Voices rose and fell—discussing arrangements, guests, rituals. Plans moved forward without pause.
Everyone seemed to belong in it.
Except her.
Rithanya stood by the doorway one evening, watching as her father reviewed the guest list.
A hollow feeling settled within her.
There was no one she truly wished to invite.
Her father’s relatives were distant—names without faces.
Her mother’s side felt even further away… like a chapter that had never been opened.
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine—
Someone waiting for her.
Someone who knew her… beyond this moment.
The thought faded.
Then, unexpectedly, a memory surfaced.
Faint. Warm.
An uncle.
She didn’t remember exactly how he was related—only that her father used to take her to meet him occasionally.
She had always seen him at his workplace and had called him “Officer Uncle.”
She had never met his family.
But now… this felt like a reason.
“Appaji,” she said softly, stepping closer, “are you inviting Officer Uncle personally?”
Devendra Pratap paused.
The pen in his hand stilled.
For a brief moment, his expression emptied—like something long buried had been stirred.
Then recognition flickered.
“Oh… him,” he said, his voice controlled. Too controlled. “I’ve already sent the invitation.”
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
“Oh… I see,” she replied.
She waited.
Just for a moment.
But he had already returned to the list.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
She turned and walked away.
Why was her mother’s only relative never spoken of?
And why had her father’s voice changed the moment she mentioned him?
The answer had come too easily.
Too carefully.
As though something had been hidden—
Not forgotten.
Who exactly was Officer Uncle…
And why did it feel like she wasn’t meant to ask?
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Author's Note:
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