Ayesha's POV

Flashback

“Truth or dare, Ayesha?” Nisha, my college classmate, asked excitedly.

“Tru-”

“You already took the truth,” she said, cutting me off.

“Fine, dare,” I said, sighing, as everyone hooted cheerfully.

“Okay, so we heard there’s a village close to the fort we saw today. How about you go there and spend some time there? We are sure you'll like it. What say guys?” Nisha suggested. Others nodded in agreement, excitedly.

“But we are not allowed to exit this hotel,” I reasoned. Jivika agreed with me.

“We’ll help you sneak out. Now come on, say yes,” said Raj, another classmate and Nisha’s boyfriend.

I looked around, hoping for someone to reason with them, but they all looked at me expectantly. Sighing, I nodded in agreement.

“Eshu you mad? Raat ho rahi hai,” Jivika muttered in my ear, glaring dangerously.
(It's getting dark.)

“It’s fine. I’ll be back in no time. Plus, I wouldn’t even go anywhere, just close to the hotel,” I whispered, loud enough only for her to hear.

“If she’s going, I’ll go with her,” Jivika announced, throwing a nasty glare at Nisha.

“We have no problem,” Nisha said, shrugging.

Later, they helped us sneak out. We grabbed our pepper sprays and power banks along with our phones, just in case. I also grabbed a pocket-sized knife for our protection.

As we were walking, Jivika muttered, “I always knew that bitch hates you. She proved it today.”

“Why would she hate me? I am not even the topper of the batch,” I said, chuckling as I walked beside her.

“Because her boyfriend always stares at you, Eshu. He’s got his eyes stuck on you like an idiot, so I am sure she’s intimidated by that,” she reasoned.

“But I don’t even talk to her boyfriend. Plus, she should break up with that asshole because that’s clearly his fault,” I said, keeping a close eye on our surroundings.

“I know, right? She was better when she was not in a relationship with that idiot,” Jibu muttered.

“Let’s sit here,” I said, pointing towards a bench a few steps away from us. Jivika nodded and followed along.

“Speaking of boyfriends, Eshu, Vardhaan asked me for your Instagram ID,” she said, excitedly turning towards me as we sat on the bench.

“So?” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” she said, making a sour face. I nodded in confusion.

“Eshu, he’s the most eligible guy in our class. He’s got everything, looks, brains, and money,” she explained, gasping at my nonchalance, I presumed.

“Yeah, and I don’t care about it. Plus, don’t you know that I am literally the last choice of any guy because of my nightmares?” I said, staring ahead.

“You will soon be someone’s only choice, Eshu, and then we’ll talk about this,” she said, giving me a proud look, making me shake my head in response.

“You-” she was about to say something when we heard a group of guys whistling and howling as they walked towards us.

“Don’t panic. Take out your pepper spray and trust me,” I said, patting Jivika’s hand. She nodded, and I quickly took out my knife along with my pepper spray.

“Abbe saale woh - Ayeee itni raat gye iss sunsaan raaste par rasta bhatak gye kya aap?” a man said, walking towards us as his friends chuckled loudly.
(Hey you idiot-It’s so late at night, did you get lost on this deserted road?)

“Aapne jawab nahi dia mohtarma.aye Rajesh dekh toh kitni Sundar choriya hai dono,” he said, taking a step ahead from where they had stopped.
(You didn’t reply, madam. Hey Rajesh, look at how beautiful both the girls are.)

“Aapki kuch madad karde madam?” his friend said, standing next to him.
(Can we help you madam?)

“Niklo yaha se,” I said, glaring at them, which only made them laugh.
(Get lost from here.)

“Arre madam hum aapse aaram se baat kar rahe hai aur aap badtameezi kar rahe ho,” he said, taking another step closer along with his friends.
(Hey madam, we’re talking to you politely, and you’re being rude.)

“Call 102,” I whispered to Jivika, who nodded, glaring fiercely at the men.

“Ghor kisko rahi hai tu?” a man said, almost walking up to Jivika. I shielded her as she shivered with fear.
(Whom are you glaring at?)

Another guy stopped him, saying, “arre Ajay ruk jaa nadaan hai bichari.”
(Hey Ajay stop, she is naive.)

“There’s no network,” Jivika muttered from behind me.

“When I tell you to run, just run, okay?” I whispered to her. She nodded.

“Hum aapki kuch madad karde madam?” he asked again, walking closer to me. He reeked of cheap alcohol and cigarettes and stood uncomfortably close along with his three friends.
(Can we help you madam?)

I nodded at Jivika, who sneakily took out her pepper spray, and together we sprayed it into their eyes. They screamed in pain, crouching on the ground. We took the opportunity and ran as fast as we could.

“Aye pakad saali haramzadi ko,” one of them growled in pain and somehow grabbed my leg from behind.
(Hey catch that bitch.)

Taking my knife, I dug it into his hand, and he immediately pulled away, crying out in pain.

“Run,” I shouted to Jivika.

Together, we ran as fast as we could, with no sense of direction, only stopping when we were sure they were no longer chasing us.

“We are lost,” Jivika muttered, looking around.

“Fuck,” I whispered, scanning the surroundings, hoping to find a clue.

“Let’s keep walking. Hopefully, we’ll find something,” she said softly. I nodded, and we continued walking.

We walked in the same direction for almost an hour when we finally heard the sound of a car approaching nearby.

“Let’s take their help,” I said, noticing the Satyamev Jayate symbol on the front of the car.

Signaling them to stop, we both shouted, “HELP. PLEASE STOP.”

The car immediately stopped in front of us, and the driver rolled his window down.

“Please help us. We are college students staying at Hotel Essence nearby. We lost our way,” Jivika said pleadingly.

“What are you girls doing outside at this hour?” the man in the driver’s seat asked. Jivika looked at me in fear.

“We were just taking a stroll near our hotel when a few men tried to misbehave with us. We somehow ran away from them, but we lost our way,” I said, standing beside Jivika and twisting the truth a little.

“Get in. We’ll drop you,” he said, unlocking the backseat, while the other man’s face remained hidden due to the darkness.

“Uh, no thanks. We just need to call our teacher,” I said. We could not trust strangers at this hour.

“Don’t worry. We are CBI officers. We will drop you safely,” he said reassuringly.

“Can I see your ID?” I asked, unsure.

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, taking out his ID and handing it to me. Once I was sure it was legitimate, I nodded. My eyes then fell on the man sitting in the passenger seat. The driver must have noticed my hesitation too.

To clear my confusion, he said, “Don’t mind him. He had a long day. He’s just asleep.”

I nodded and gestured for Jivika to get in. She did, and I followed her.

“So you guys are freshers?” he asked, starting the car once we had settled in.
I kept my knife out, just in case.

“No, we graduate in a few months,” Jivika replied politely.

“Oh, that’s great. How was college life for you guys?” he asked, looking ahead.

“Good,” I replied monotonously.

“Oh-” he was rudely interrupted by his passenger prince, who was clearly grumpy.

“Quit it, Vidit,” the man said, groaning. His deep voice made my heart skip a beat for reasons I could not fathom.

“Ignore him. He’s got something stuck up his ass all the time,” the driver said, chuckling weirdly. We nodded in agreement.

“You guys didn’t tell us-” Jivika began, only to stop when the car jerked slightly and then came to a halt.

“Let me check,” Vidit said, getting out and inspecting the engine.

“Zeeshan, check,” he called from outside. The man from the passenger seat shifted to the driver’s seat and tried starting the car.

“It’s not working,” he said, rolling the window down, his voice still making my heart skip a beat or two.

“I guess the engine blew up. Let me see if I can do something,” Vidit said, dusting off his hands. The other man hummed and looked at us through the rearview mirror.

That was when our eyes met, his brown ones against my charcoal ones. His intense gaze had the power to make my cheeks burn, but I was not one to back down. I stared back directly into his eyes.

He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and I did the same, refusing to let him intimidate me.

My eyes began to water, but I forced them open, unwilling to lose. When he finally shook his head and closed his eyes, focusing ahead on his friend trying to fix the engine, I looked away too. My friend was asleep, leaning against the door.

How can someone sleep in a matter of few seconds? A talent only jivika has perhaps.

Quietly, I adjusted her head onto my shoulder and glanced at the rearview mirror again, where his eyes were intensely boring holes into me.

I was ready to poke his eyeballs if he did not look away this instant, which he thankfully did. I looked around instead, searching for something familiar that could lead us back to our hotel in the middle of nowhere.

My phone had no network, and neither did Jivika’s.

“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked politely, addressing the man now sitting in the passenger seat.

“There’s no network,” he replied without turning around, his eyes still fixed on the rearview mirror. I sighed and nodded.

“I don’t think we can fix this car. We need to walk,” Vidit said, leaning into the window of the driver seat.

I nodded, woke Jivika up, and explained the situation.

After getting out of the car, we waited for them to walk ahead, which they did. I did not see his face again, only his back.

I would not lie. I was quite intrigued to see his face.

We walked quietly, them ahead of us and us behind them, hand in hand.

“Are you guys sure this is the right way?” I asked, my knife was still hidden in my hand.

“We are hoping it is,” Vidit replied, turning slightly.

“What do you mean?” Jivika asked.

“You see, we are not residents of this forest. We were just passing by, like you girls,” the other man said as he continued walking, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Dat jao thaam.” A voice came. Oh good Lord, no more adventures for the day, please.
(Wait right there.)

“Thamne sunai koni dera k?” a bald man in his sixties said, stopping us with his big stick.
(Can you not hear me?)

“Kya hogya sir?” the Vidit guy asked. Both of them stepped in front of us, shielding us from the man’s scrutinizing gaze.
(What happened sir?)

“Kon ho tham? Mhare gaam m kyu aaye?” he asked.
(Who are you guys? Why are you in our village?)

“Hum bas yaha se guzar rahe the. Humari gaadi kharab ho gayi,” the other guy said. His voice was firm yet calm.
(We were just passing by. Our car stopped working.)

“Ar jab m jaanu hu ak tham rangliya mnan aale chora chori ho to fer thamne apne bal gham m dhole keh t na kre.” He said, glaring strangely at us.
(Hey, I know all about boys and girls who go around having fun. My hair hasn’t turned white just by sitting in the sun.)

What the hell?

“Dekhiye, humein jaane dijiye. Humein na aapse aur na hi aapke haircare routine se koi lena dena hai,” Vidit said firmly.
(Look, let us go. We do not have anything to do with you or your haircare routine.)

“Chore tu azamgunj te jara se, yo mhara gaam se, ar yhade yo sab na challe,” he said, glaring at me and Jivika.
(Boy, you’re passing through Azamgunj. This is my village, and none of that nonsense works here.)

“Dekhiye uncle, aap samjhiye. Humein bas apne hotel tak pahunchna hai. Aap jaane dijiye, humein der ho rahi hai,” Jivika said politely.
(Look, uncle. Try to understand. We just want to reach our hotel. Let us go, we are getting late.)

“Tham log k krre ho fer inki gellya? K lagge h ye thare?” the man asked, glaring at us suspiciously. I noticed his judgmental eyes while the two men continued shielding us.
(Then what are you doing with these boys? What are they to you?)

“Kucchc nahii hai ye humare. Ye humari bas madad kar rahe hai,” I said, stepping slightly forward between the two muscular men.
(They are nothing to us. They are just helping us.)

“Mai kukkar maanu? Ajkal sare yohi bolle h. Btade na to iss gaam te bahar panh bhi na rakhan deyu,” he said in Haryanvi that I barely understood, but he was clearly not joking.
(Why should I believe you? Everyone says the same thing these days. If you don’t tell the truth, I won’t even let you step out of this village.)

“Are Balraj, Ram sabne bula,” he shouted at two men standing at a distance, observing the situation. They nodded and called a few others over. Jivika gripped my hand in fear. The two men exchanged exasperated glances.
(Hey Balraj, Ram call everyone.)

“Bhai hai ye mera, aur peeche humari behen hai,” the Vidit guy said, trying to handle the situation.
( He is my brother and the girls behind us are our sisters.)

“Re chore, kisi aur ne ullu banaiye,” the man shouted, pointing his stick at him.
(Hey boy, try to fool someone else.)

The other guy standing next to Vidit turned towards me and nodded. Finally showing his face, a handsome one if I must say so. His brown eyes stared at me reassuringly, his face calm and composed, unlike mine. The natural light highlighted his brown skin sharply, while his perfectly trimmed beard framed his face so beautifully that I almost drowned in it, if not for Jivika’s nudge that brought me back to reality.

I looked at him in confusion, but he nodded again reassuringly before turning to the man and saying, “Biwi hai meri ye aur ye meri behen hai. Khush? Ab hum jae?”
(She is my wife and the other girl is my sister. Now happy? Can we leave now?)

My eyes widened when he pointed at me, introducing me as his wife and Jivika as his sister. I looked at Vidit, who nodded at me reassuringly.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Jivika muttered softly beside me.

“I have no idea,” I muttered, looking away from the uncle’s questioning gaze.

For some reason, my cheeks were heating up, and the fact that he kept turning towards me was not helping at all.

“Kain saal hoge byah ne?” the uncle asked after a minute of silence.
(For how long are you both married?)

“Pehla hi saal hai. Nayi shadi hui hai,” Vidit said, glancing at us oddly.
(They are just in the first year of their marriage. Newly married you see.)

“Fer tere bahu ka hath khali kaiteh h? Ar mangalsutra bhi konya,” he asked the other guy.
(Then why is your wife's hand empty and she's not even wearing her mangalsutra.)

“Chhori hogya sab kuch, humari gaadi bhi kharab hogyi,” the other guy replied, his voice calm and composed, unlike my racing heart.
(Everything got stolen, our car also stopped working.)

“To chore fer phle btata ismain sharman ki k bat thi. Ib to der hogi, ib to tham aao gaam m puja khatar ar nave jodo m tham bhi baitho,” the uncle said, dragging them along with him. We had no choice but to follow unwillingly.
(Then you should have told us earlier, boy. What was there to be ashamed of? Now it’s late you all will come to the village for the puja, and you will also sit with the newly married couples.)

He dragged us into a huge hall where many couples sat beside each other, blushing with happiness and love, ready to take more vows for a peaceful marriage.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked him, glaring at him for his stupid idea to rescue us.

“I had no choice. They would have forced us into something else. Let’s get out of here and figure this out. Till then, cooperate,” he replied, scanning the place carefully.

The uncle said something to a woman who was clearly his wife. She came rushing towards us with a red dupatta and a handkerchief. Placing the dupatta over my head and instructing him to wear the handkerchief, she made us sit on a platform where another couple was already performing the pooja.

They made us follow the same rituals. He complied calmly while I was already planning to flip everything upside down and run away with Jivika. That was impossible though, with so many men carrying sticks roaming around.

“Maang mei sindoor bharo ab,” the aunty said, snapping me out of my thoughts. My eyes widened at her words. He looked equally shocked.
(Fill her hairline with vermillion.)

“Ara k hogya, bharde. Sharma mannya teri a bahu h,” she said when he hesitated.
(What happened? Fill it, don't be shy she's your wife only.)

I shook my head violently, glaring at him, silently warning him not to do it.

“Ae chore, bhar de ib itna k sharmave s,” the uncle said, laughing as if it were a joke.
(Hey boy just do it, what's the point of shying away?)

“Nya nya byah h na, jihte sharmave h yo chora. Ruko thoda tem do inne,” his wife said, laughing. The couple beside us chuckled.
(They are newly married, it's normal for him to feel embarassed. Stop, give them some time.)

He finally picked up some vermilion, his face apologetic as he looked at me. I ignored it, still shaking my head in warning.

But he did it anyway.

He filled my hairline with vermilion. My eyes widened at his audacity as the people around us cheered loudly.

Later, they forced us to take seven rounds around the hawan kund, saying it was essential for a married couple.

“Puja sampann hui,” Pandit ji announced cheerfully as everyone clapped.
(The puja is completed.)

And me? I stood there in shock. I had just gotten married to a man I barely knew, heck I didn't even know about his name, all of it because of a lie.

I looked at him in disbelief. He gently held my hand, said something to the old man, and led us out of the hall, with Jivika and Vidit following.

“So you guys are married now?” Vidit said, cautiously looking at us.

I glared at him, yanking my hand away.

“I don’t care about whatever happened. I am not married to him,” I said before walking away, dragging Jivika along with me.