Tanishka Sharma’s POV

One hour before my wedding

Draped in a rich red saree, adorned with just the right amount of jewelry—neither too heavy nor too little—I sat in front of the mirror. The delicate scent of jasmine flowers woven into my hair filled the air. My reflection stared back at me, a silent witness to the life-altering moment just an hour away.

Everything I had ever dreamt of was on the verge of becoming reality.

But in that fleeting moment, without a second thought, I made a terrible mistake.

Waiting for my cue to step out, I felt the weight of time pressing down on me. The rituals, the customs—none of them had ever fascinated me. If anything, they bored me. Desperate for a distraction, I turned to my friends, who were engaged in animated gossip.

"Hey, I’m bored," I announced, stretching my arms with a sigh.

They turned to me, amused. "Come on, Thani! It’s your wedding. How can you be bored?"

"You know I’ve never been into all these rituals," I replied, waving my hands dismissively.

One of my friends grinned. "Let’s play Truth or Dare."

I frowned. "What? No way."

"Come on, it’ll be fun!" she insisted, stepping closer.

"It’s childish," I argued.

"Being childish once in a while won’t hurt," she countered.

I shook my head, but before I knew it, all of them had joined in, pleading and insisting. Their relentless persuasion finally wore me down.

"Fine," I sighed, giving in.

We formed a circle, placing a small table in the middle. The bottle spun, and as fate would have it, it landed right on me.

Mischievous grins spread across their faces. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," I said immediately.

A chorus of protests erupted. "No! You can’t pick truth."

"Why not? It’s my choice," I argued, crossing my arms.

"Not today," one of them smirked. "You’re picking dare. This is your last chance to do something crazy before marriage. We’re giving you a dare you’ll never forget."

That didn’t sound promising. "Then I’m definitely not choosing dare."

"Come on, Thani! Just this once!"

I exhaled sharply, regretting ever mentioning my boredom. "Fine. What’s the dare?"

They exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up.

"You have to send a message to a random number, saying: I love you. I don’t want to get married. Please come and take me with you. After all, you’re my lover."

I scoffed. "Absolutely not!"

"You have to! Or else there will be consequences," they teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"You’re backing out, which means you’re failing the dare," one of them taunted.

The word fail ignited something in me. "Me? Fail? That’s not happening," I declared, snatching the phone. "Give me the number."

As soon as they handed it over, I typed out the message exactly as instructed and hit send without a second thought.

"There. Happy?"

"Very," they giggled.

I shook my head, dismissing their antics. We played for a little while longer until, at last, someone came to call me.

It was time.

And I had no idea what I had just set into motion.