**Title: Bitter Bonds**
Once upon a time in Ludhiana there lived a young woman named Sahiba. She was the younger daughter of Santosh and Ajit, a family known for their modesty and respectability. Sahiba had always been overshadowed by her elder sister, Seerat, who was considered the epitome of beauty and grace in their community.
Everything changed when Seerat eloped with Garry, Angad’s cousin, just a day before her wedding with Angad. The scandal rocked both families to their core, tarnishing their reputations and leaving Angad’s family in utter disbelief and humiliation.
In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Angad’s family demanded a replacement bride to uphold their honor and fulfill the wedding vows. Sahiba, being Seerat’s sister, was chosen as the reluctant substitute. She had no say in the matter, trapped between family expectations and societal pressure.
Despite the forced marriage, there was no love lost between Angad and Sahiba. Angad, embittered by the betrayal of his cousin and the unwanted union, harbored resentment towards Sahiba, holding her responsible for the upheaval in his life. Sahiba, on the other hand, felt like a pawn in a cruel game, despising Angad for his coldness and the way he treated her as an outsider in his own home.
The newlyweds relocated to Delhi, where Angad worked in his jewelry business. Angad chose this move to escape the constant reminders of Seerat and Garry, who previously lived in the same joint family household. Sahiba, feeling uprooted and isolated, found solace in her art. She converted a small corner of their impersonal apartment into a makeshift studio, pouring her emotions onto canvases that spoke of longing and despair.
Their days passed in silence, punctuated only by the occasional bitter exchange. Angad buried himself in his work, using it as a shield against the emptiness of his marriage. Sahiba, trapped in a loveless existence, yearned for the warmth of her family back home, especially her father and younger sister, Keerat.
One evening, as Sahiba sat alone in her studio, lost in her thoughts, Angad returned home unexpectedly. He stood at the doorway, watching her silently for a moment before speaking.
Angad: “What are you doing here, Sahiba? This isn’t your space.”
Sahiba looked up, her eyes flashing with defiance.
Sahiba: “I create art, Angad. Whether you acknowledge it or not, this is as much my home as it is yours.”
Angad’s expression softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features.
Angad: “I didn’t mean… Look, I just need some space, okay? This marriage wasn’t what I wanted either.”
Sahiba nodded, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
Sahiba: “Funny how life works, isn’t it? Two people bound together by circumstances, drowning in resentment and regret.”
Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Despite the animosity that simmered beneath the surface, there was a shared sense of sorrow, a recognition of the pain they both carried in their hearts.
As the evening deepened into night, they retreated to their separate corners of the apartment, the walls echoing with the echoes of their unspoken words and shattered dreams. In the cold embrace of solitude, Angad and Sahiba drifted further apart, two souls adrift in the vast expanse of a loveless marriage.
As winter tightened its grip on Delhi, the city transformed into a sea of mist and cold. The streets, once bustling with life, now lay deserted under a blanket of fog, as if nature itself mourned the loss of warmth and light. Inside their apartment, Angad’s illness cast a shadow over the already strained atmosphere.
Sahiba watched from the doorway of their bedroom as Angad tossed and turned in bed, his forehead clammy with fever and his breathing labored. Despite their bitter exchanges and the walls of resentment that separated them, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore his suffering.
“Angad, you need to take your medicine,” Sahiba said softly, approaching the bed with a glass of water and a bottle of pills.
Angad groaned, pushing the covers away from his flushed face. “I’m fine, Sahiba. I don’t need your help.”
Sahiba sighed, her heart heavy with frustration and concern. “You’re not fine, Angad. You’re burning up. Please, just let me take care of you.”
Angad’s eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability flickering in their depths. He knew he was too weak to argue, too drained to keep up the facade of indifference that had become his shield against the world.
“Fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sahiba helped him sit up, propping pillows behind his back for support. She handed him the medicine and watched as he swallowed it with a grimace, his throat raw with the effort.
“Thank you,” Angad murmured, his gaze lingering on Sahiba’s face.
Sahiba nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re welcome. Now try to get some rest. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
As Angad drifted into a fitful sleep, Sahiba settled into the chair beside the bed, her eyes never straying from his face. Despite everything, despite the bitterness and the pain, she couldn’t deny the flicker of compassion that burned within her heart.
Later that night, Sahiba awoke to the sound of Angad’s restless tossing and turning. Concern gnawed at her insides as she slipped out of bed and made her way to his room. She found him curled up on the bed, his brow furrowed in discomfort.
“Angad?” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Angad stirred, his eyes fluttering open. “Sahiba? What are you doing here?”
“I brought you a hot water bottle,” Sahiba replied softly, holding up the makeshift remedy.
Angad’s expression softened, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
Sahiba nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Angad hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Actually, my head is pounding. Could you… could you massage it for me?”
Sahiba’s heart skipped a beat at the request, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. But in the end, compassion won out over resentment, and she nodded silently.
“Of course, Angad.”
As Sahiba gently kneaded his temples, a sense of peace settled over them, if only for a moment. In the quiet intimacy of the night, amidst the harsh cold of winter and the fragile warmth of their shared space, Angad and Sahiba found themselves bound together by the simple act of caring. And in that fleeting moment of connection, hope blossomed like a fragile flower in the desolate landscape of their loveless marriage.
The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the apartment as Angad stirred from his sleep. With Sahiba’s tender care, he had managed to overcome his illness in just two days, a testament to her unwavering dedication. Grateful for her support, he felt a flicker of something akin to gratitude as he got ready for work.
As he entered the kitchen, he found Sahiba humming softly to herself as she prepared breakfast. Her smile was radiant, her eyes alight with genuine concern and affection. Angad felt a pang of guilt at the thought of his earlier harsh words, the memory of his outburst weighing heavily on his conscience.
“Sahiba,” he began, his voice hesitant. “I… I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I know I wasn’t easy to deal with, but you never wavered.”
Sahiba turned to him, her smile widening at his words. “It was my pleasure, Angad. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
Their exchange was brief but filled with unspoken understanding, a fragile truce in the midst of their turbulent marriage. Angad’s heart swelled with a newfound sense of appreciation for Sahiba’s unwavering support, a realization that softened the edges of his lingering resentment.
But as the day wore on and Angad returned home from the office, the weight of his unresolved emotions bore down on him once more. Despite Sahiba’s kindness, the wounds of the past still festered, a reminder of the pain and betrayal that had brought them to this point.
“Sahiba,” Angad began, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I appreciate what you did for me, I really do. But let’s not pretend that it changes anything between us. Just because you nursed me back to health doesn’t mean I accept you as my wife.”
Sahiba’s smile faltered, her eyes clouding with hurt and disappointment. She had hoped that their shared experience would bring them closer together, but Angad’s words served as a stark reminder of the divide that still separated them.
“I understand,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never expected anything in return, Angad. I only wanted to help because… because I care about you.”
Angad’s expression softened at her words, a twinge of guilt tugging at his heart. He had spent so long building walls around himself, shielding his wounded pride from further pain. But in Sahiba’s gentle presence, he saw a glimmer of hope, a chance for healing and redemption.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “And I’m grateful for that, Sahiba. Truly.”
With that, he retreated to the solitude of his thoughts, leaving Sahiba standing alone in the quiet stillness of the apartment. Despite the lingering tension between them, there was a newfound sense of understanding, a fragile truce born from the ashes of their broken dreams.
As Sahiba watched him disappear into the depths of their shared space, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope stir within her heart. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance for them to find their way back to each other, one small step at a time.
As days passed, Sahiba and Angad fell into a routine of silent coexistence. Sahiba would prepare breakfast while Angad got ready for work. They’d eat in silence, barely exchanging words. Sahiba spent her days tending to the house and creating art, while Angad buried himself in work. He’d return late, and they’d share a meal in silence before retreating to their separate worlds. Despite the emptiness that pervaded their home, a glimmer of hope lingered, promising redemption in their loveless marriage.
Sahiba sat on the sofa, her fingers scrolling through Instagram absentmindedly. As she flicked through the stories, her heart skipped a beat when she stumbled upon Seerat’s post. There, illuminated on the screen, was a picture of Seerat and Garry, their smiles radiant as he kissed her cheek. They looked so happy together, so utterly in love.
A pang of sadness washed over Sahiba as she gazed at the image. She couldn’t help but wonder why her sister had agreed to marry Angad when her heart clearly belonged to Garry. The betrayal felt like a fresh wound, reopening with each passing day as she watched Seerat’s seemingly perfect life unfold from afar.
Unbeknownst to her, Angad was walking past at that moment, his eyes catching sight of the Instagram story over her shoulder. The sight of his brother, Garry, with Seerat ignited a fiery rage within him, fueling the simmering resentment that had long since taken root in his heart.
“What is this?” Angad’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, his tone sharp with accusation.
Startled, Sahiba looked up from her phone, her heart racing with apprehension. She had hoped to keep Seerat’s betrayal hidden from Angad, to spare him the pain of knowing that his own brother had deceived him. But now, faced with his accusing glare, she knew that her efforts were in vain.
“It’s there picture” Sahiba said softly, her voice tinged with regret. “I just saw it on Instagram…”
Angad’s anger flared at her response, his fists clenched at his sides as he loomed over her.
“You expect me to believe that?” he spat, his words dripping with contempt. “You knew about this, didn’t you? You knew that my own brother was cheating on me, and you said nothing!”
Sahiba recoiled at his accusation, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She had never seen Angad like this, consumed by a rage that seemed to consume him from within. She wanted to reach out to him, to soothe the pain that lay beneath his anger, but she knew that her words would only fuel the fire.
“I swear, Angad, I didn’t know,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. “I would have told someone if I knew…”
But her words fell on deaf ears as Angad stormed towards her, his eyes blazing with fury. Sahiba’s heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively backed away, her back hitting the sofa as Angad loomed over her, his presence overwhelming.
“You’re lying!” Angad’s voice boomed, his breath hot against her face. “You knew, and you chose to hide it from me! How could you betray me like this, Sahiba?”
Tears welled up in Sahiba’s eyes as she cowered beneath his glare, her body trembling with fear. She had never seen Angad like this, his anger a force of nature that threatened to consume everything in its path. And in that moment, as she stared up at him with wide eyes, she realized that she was truly alone, trapped in a loveless marriage with nowhere to turn.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Angad…”
As Sahiba whispered her apology, her voice barely audible over the tumult of emotions swirling around them, Angad’s fury seemed to momentarily abate. He stood there, his chest heaving with the effort to control his anger, his eyes locked on Sahiba’s tear-streaked face.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing. And then, Angad spoke, his voice low and venomous, dripping with contempt.
“You were happy they ran away, weren’t you?” he spat, his words laced with bitterness. “Happy that you could finally be my wife, Angad Singh Brar’s wife. You craved that respect, that honor, didn’t you?”
Sahiba recoiled at his words, her heart sinking with each syllable that fell from his lips. She had never imagined that Angad harbored such resentment towards her, such disdain for the role she had been thrust into against her will.
“And what are you, Sahiba?” Angad continued, his voice rising with each word. “A replacement, a substitute for the woman I truly loved. You think you’re worthy of being my wife? You think you’re worthy of being anything to me?”
Tears welled up in Sahiba’s eyes at his cruel words, her whole body shaking with the weight of his contempt. She had never felt so small, so utterly insignificant in the eyes of another.
“I… I didn’t…” she stammered, her voice breaking with emotion.
But Angad cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, his expression cold and unyielding.
“Save your excuses, Sahiba,” he sneered. “You’re not worth my time.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Sahiba alone with her shattered heart and the bitter taste of his words lingering on her lips. And as she sank back against the sofa crying.
As Sahiba wrestles with her emotions in the solitude of their bedroom, the weight of her circumstances bears down on her with crushing force. Each tear that falls bears witness to the burden she carries—the burden of being forced into a marriage she never desired, with a man who still harbors feelings for her own sister, Seerat.
In the quiet of the night, surrounded by shadows that seem to echo her inner turmoil, Sahiba reflects on the unfairness of it all. She had never asked for this—never wanted to be trapped in a loveless union, tethered to a man whose heart still yearns for another. And yet, here she was, drowning in the consequences of choices made by others.
Her mind drifts back to her childhood, to the countless times she had watched her mother lavish praise and affection upon Seerat, her elder sister. Blessed with beauty and grace, Seerat had always been the favored one, while Sahiba remained relegated to the shadows, overlooked and forgotten.
And now, as she lies alone in the darkness, the bitter truth of her reality settles upon her like a heavy shroud. She is nothing more than a pawn in the game of familial expectations and societal pressures—a sacrifice made to salvage the honor of her family and that of Angad’s.
But Sahiba refuses to accept her fate passively. Beneath the weight of her sorrow and despair, a spark of defiance ignites within her. She may have been forced into this marriage, but she refuses to be defined by it. She is more than just a replacement bride, more than the sum of her circumstances.
With newfound resolve, Sahiba vows to reclaim her agency, to carve out a path of her own in the midst of the chaos that surrounds her. For she knows that she deserves better than the hand fate has dealt her—a loveless marriage, born of betrayal and resentment.
As the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, Sahiba rises from her bed, her heart heavy but her spirit unbroken. Though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges and uncertainty, she knows that she will face it head-on, armed with the strength of her convictions and the resilience of her spirit.
For Sahiba is a survivor—a fighter in the face of adversity. And though the journey ahead may be long and arduous, she is determined to emerge from the darkness stronger and more resolute than ever before.