The mandap still smelled of roses and sandalwood, but for Raunak Javeri, everything reeked of betrayal.
He froze at the entrance, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the sight before him — Prarthna, his bride, with fresh sindoor blazing in her parting. The mangalsutra rested heavy on her neck, and beside her stood Shivansh Randhawa, tall and immovable, his hand still holding the empty silver box.

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