"We need to monitor him closely for the next 24 hours to ensure he doesn't go into cardiac arrest," our chief resident, Dr. Rajeev Roy, instructed after we wrapped up a grueling six-hour surgery. We all nodded in agreement and began to head our separate ways. I'm currently in my second year post-graduation in general surgery and have been in residency for just two weeks. It's already proving to be incredibly challenging.

"Aadhya," Dr. Rajeev called out just as I entered the locker room. I turned to face him.

"Yes, sir?" I replied.

"You mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something," he reminded me. Oh, right—I had completely forgotten. I nodded. "Alright, meet me in my office in 15 minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on his office door, waiting for permission to enter. "Come in, Aadhya," he called. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. He was seated at his desk, reviewing some papers. As I approached, he set the files aside, giving me his full attention. "Haan, bolo Aadhya, kya baat hai?"

(Yes Aadhya, tell me what's the matter)

I felt a slight blush creep onto my cheeks under his intense gaze. Clearing my throat, I began, "Sir, I wanted to—"

"Rajeev," he interrupted. I frowned in confusion. "When we're alone, I want you to call me Rajeev." I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile.

"Umm, Rajeev," I corrected myself, "I wanted to ask if I could leave early today. I don't have many checkups or any surgeries scheduled."

"Why?" He tilted his head, studying me.

"There's a family emergency I need to attend," I explained, hoping he'd agree.

He sighed. "Aadhya, you know I can't approve leave at the last minute," he said his tone firm.

"I understand, but this is an emergency. I really can't miss it. Please," I pleaded, trying to convey the urgency.

He looked at me for a moment before relenting. "Alright, Aadhya, you can leave, but make sure you finish your checkups first."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. He nodded. "Thank you, sir!" I mumbled feeling delighted as I wouldn't to be subjected to any more of the torture if I went home late, and he smirked in response. With that, I hurried out, took a quick 15-minute break, and then got started on my daily checkups.

********

Relief washed over me as I realized my shift would end in an hour. I made my way to my station and stretched my tired body. Just then, my fellow resident and best friend, Diya, approached me. "Hey, Aadhu, want to go out for dinner tonight? We can invite Yuvaan and Roshni too," she suggested as we headed to the pantry for some much-needed coffee.

I thought about it for a moment. It would be nice to unwind after such a long day, but I had to decline. My Dadi, Urvashi, had insisted—more like ordered—that I come home early tonight because they had something important to discuss with me. I didn't know what it was, but the thought had my stomach in knots ever since they mentioned it last night.

"So, what do you say?" Diya asked again, breaking my train of thought. I shook my head.

"No, Diya, I can't today. Dadi wants me home early. She said they have something important to discuss with me."

"Oh really, what do they want now?" she asked, rolling her eyes. I shrugged.

"They've been whispering about something all week, and every time I walk into the room, they stop talking," I explained. When I glanced up from my coffee, I noticed Diya deep in thought. I placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.

"Whatever they're planning, just be careful. Agar kuch bhi galat laga tujhe, just give us a call, and we'll be there in minutes. Okay?" she insisted. I nodded, and we both returned to our work after our coffee break. My friends don't know the whole situation with my family they only know that I don't get along well with them.

(If you feel as if anything is wrong)

"I have to leave now," I said, taking off my mask as I walked to my locker. "I got permission from Dr. Rajeev to leave early, and he said yes."

"Haan, haan, woh toh hona hi tha. Kabhi hua hai aisa ke tumne kuch maanga aur Dr. Rajeev ne mana kiya ho?" she teased, smirking. I rolled my eyes.

(It was bound to happen. If you ask Dr. Rajeev and he saying no to you never happened)

"Chup kar, aisa kuch nahi hai," I retorted, walking away as she continued to tease me. Yes, I might have a teeny-tiny crush—okay, not so tiny—a huge crush on Dr. Rajeev. But since he's my senior and there's a strict no-fraternizing rule at the hospital. I don't want any more complications in my life than I already have. I've kept things professional. Besides, I doubt he sees me that way, so I just admire him from a distance.

(Shut up there is nothing like that)

"Aisa hi hai, madam," she sang, wiggling her eyebrows as she fixed her hair. "Tell me one thing—has Dr. Rajeev ever given anyone a half-day leave before?" I narrowed my eyes at her and gave her a playful shove. She had a point; Dr. Rajeev never let anyone leave early, which is why I was so surprised and delighted when he agreed.

(It's just like that)

"Ugh, just stop!" I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile.

"Look at you, blushing and all," she teased in a sing-song voice. I shook my head, quickly changed, and gathered my things just as my phone pinged. I pulled it out as I made my way out of the hospital, bidding goodbye to my colleagues

As soon as I walked out I felt the familiar feeling of being watched wash over me. I looked around but like always I found nothing or no one.

This started around six months ago. The first time I felt like being watched was on the way to work. I was going on my bike to work when I felt like I was being watched and followed. As soon as I walked out of the hospital, that familiar, unsettling feeling of being watched crept over me. I paused, scanning the surroundings, but like always, there was nothing—or no one—out of the ordinary.

This had been happening for the past six months. The first time it happened, I was on my way to work, riding my bike through the early morning traffic. I felt a pair of eyes on me, an uncomfortable prickling sensation at the back of my neck. At first, I dismissed it as paranoia, just the jitters of starting a new day. But then it happened again. And again.

I'd glance around, searching for the source of the unease. But the streets were always bustling with people, cars, and the usual chaos of city life. It was impossible to tell if someone was watching me, or if it was all in my head.

At first, I told myself it was just stress. The demands of my residency, the long hours, and the constant pressure could make anyone feel on edge. But the feeling persisted, even on days when I was relaxed. It wasn't just a passing sensation; it lingered, hanging over me like a dark cloud.

I tried to brush it off. After all, there was no concrete evidence—no strange cars trailing me, no unfamiliar faces loitering around my apartment or the hospital. But every time I felt it, that nagging sense of being observed, I couldn't shake the unease that followed.

Tonight was no different. The streetlights flickered on as dusk settled, casting long shadows on the pavement. I quickened my pace, telling myself it was just another ordinary evening. But deep down, I knew better. My heart beat a little faster as I walked toward the parking lot, every instinct urging me to stay alert.

I reached my bike, fumbling with the keys as I tried to steady my hands. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. Maybe it was just fatigue playing tricks on my mind. But as I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching my every move.

On the way home, the unsettling feeling of being watched faded into the background, replaced by a growing sense of dread. What could they possibly want to tell me? My nerves tightened with each passing moment. By the time I reached home, anxiety had fully taken hold. I parked my bike, took a deep, steadying breath, and forced myself to approach the house.

As I neared the front door, I heard unfamiliar voices drifting from the living room. I frowned, puzzled. Who could that be? My mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and immediately noticed four unfamiliar faces in the crowd. My entire so-called family was gathered in the living room, and the sight of so many people—especially strangers—only heightened my anxiety.

The moment I entered, my Chachi, Nidhima was the first to spot me. "Aadhya, tum agayi," she said, her tone a mix of relief and something else I couldn't quite place. At her words, all conversation ceased, and suddenly, I felt at least ten pairs of eyes fixate on me. Among the unfamiliar faces, there were two old people around my grandmother's age, the lady looked to be in her mid to late forties, and same for the man looked to be around her late thirties to early forties. All four of them were staring at me.

(Aadhya you are here)

The silence was deafening. I could feel the weight of their stares pressing down on me, and I struggled to maintain my composure. My heart pounded in my chest as I took in the scene before me, my mind racing with questions. Who were these people, and why were they here? What could be so important that it required the entire family to gather like this?

I swallowed hard, trying to keep the unease from showing on my face. "Namaste," I greeted the room softly, forcing a polite smile. But the tension in the air was palpable, and I knew, without a doubt, that whatever they were about to tell me would change everything.

I looked at my family members. Each one of them had different expressions. My Dadi Urvashi looked at me with her usual cold expression which is reserved only for me. My stepmother, Bhavna was looking at me will ill concealed glee, and her Kashvi was looking at me with a smug expression on her face. "Aadhya, jaldi jao fresh hoke ajao," Dadi ordered looking at me pointedly.

(Go freshen up and come down fast)

I gave a short nod and left not before looking for my father Ishwar Sharma who was nowhere to be found. As I made my way into my room my chachi followed behind. "What is happening?" I asked as I shut the door behind me and turned to look at her. Chachi looked nervous, she paced my room as he rubbed her forehead. "Chachi." I probed.

She stopped and finally looked at me. "They're here because Dadi fixed your marriage with her friend's youngest son." I froze hearing what she.

"What? No, no you are joking right," I laughed my laugh sounding hollow to my ears. She shook her head and looked at me with pity. "Chachi why would she do that? She knows I'm not ready for marriage. I want to finish my studies first." Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Aadhya, you should get ready," Chachi said and handed me a dress that was on the bed I hadn't noticed earlier.

"But chachi–"

"Aadhya just get ready we can talk about this later." She said moving towards the door. "I know you haven't eaten anything I will get you something to eat okay." She walked out of the room without a backward glance.

I released a shaky breath and made my way towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. While I was in the bathroom drying off I looked at the bruises on my sides and my thighs. They were a few days old, Not wanting to duel more on them I quickly dressed up and looked myself in them, My dark brown eyes looked dull with slight dark circled under them as a result of countless sleepless nights. My complexion looked pale almost ghostly, and my lips chapped.

I pinched my cheeks to bring some color into them and tried to smile but it looked fake and I haven't smiled genuinely in a long time. Shaking my head U brushed my hair which reached the middle of my back. I thought to apply some concealer but thought the better of it.

I don't want to get ready for some asshole. Let them see my tired face. As I stood there, staring at my reflection, I couldn't help but feel a surge of bitterness rising in my chest. My life had never truly been mine to control, and now, even my future was being decided for me, without a single regard for what I wanted. Dadi's coldness, Bhavna's glee, and Kashvi's smugness—they all knew, and they were all complicit in this decision.

The knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Chachi entering with a tray of food. She placed it on the table, her eyes filled with the same pity.

"Aadhya, eat something," she urged softly, her voice carrying the weight of her helplessness.

I shook my head, pushing the tray away. "How can I eat, Chachi? How can I pretend like everything is fine when they're forcing me into this? I don't even know him, and they expect me to just... comply?"

Chachi sighed, sitting down beside me on the bed. "I know, Aadhya. I know this is hard, but sometimes we don't have a choice. Your Dadi... she thinks this is what's best for you."

"Best for me?" I scoffed, tears brimming in my eyes again. "This isn't about what's best for me. This is about control, about doing what she thinks is right without caring how it affects me."

Chachi reached taking my hand, her grip warm but trembling slightly. "I wish I could change things for you, but I can't. You have to be strong, Aadhya. We'll get through this somehow."

I nodded weakly, but inside, I felt like I was crumbling. How was I supposed to be strong when every step I took felt like I was sinking deeper into a life I didn't want?

"I'll try," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"That's all you can do for now," Chachi said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before standing up. "I'll go now, but I'll be close if you need me."

"Where are Papa and Chachu?" I asked before she could leave.

"They are out of town with some business." She replied as she left the room, the weight of the situation settled over me like a heavy shroud. I looked at the dress she had handed me—a traditional, embroidered piece that would have looked beautiful under different circumstances. But now, it felt more like a costume, something to wear while I played the role of the obedient daughter, the perfect bride.

With a resigned sigh, I began to change into the dress, each movement mechanical, devoid of any real emotion. My mind raced with thoughts of what would happen next. What kind of man had Dadi chosen for me? Would he be kind, or would he be just another person in my life who would hurt me?

When I was finally dressed, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was of someone I hardly recognized—a young woman trapped in a life she didn't choose, preparing to meet a fate she didn't want.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. "Aadhya, are you ready?" It was Dadi, her voice tinged with impatience.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. "Yes, I'm ready."

As I opened the door and stepped out, I felt like I was walking into a future that wasn't mine. But deep down, a small voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to reclaim it. But first, I had to survive whatever came next.

*******

As I made my way downstairs, I noticed my half-siblings—19-year-old twins Rishwi and Dhruv, children of my father and stepmother—were present as well, their expressions just as smug as their sister Kasvi. Just as I reached the bottom step, I heard my Dadi call out from the kitchen.

"Aadhya, come here." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation.

I turned towards her, finding her eyes fixed on me with that familiar, cold stare. Cursing inwardly, I obeyed and walked toward the kitchen.

"Here, take this." Dadi handed me a tray of tea without looking at me, her attention already on the maid beside her. When she sensed I hadn't moved, she turned sharply, her gaze like daggers. "I said take it to the guests. What are you standing there for, like a statue?" she growled, her hand darting out to pinch my upper arm, hard.

I gasped as the sharp pain brought tears to my eyes. I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip, pinching even harder.

"Suno meri baat"," she hissed, leaning close to my ear. "Agar aaj tumne koi bhi gadbad ki toh tum yaad rakhna mein tumhara vo haal karungi tum soch bhi nahi sakte."

(Listen to me) (If you mess up today, I'll make sure you regret it. Do you understand?)

I nodded frantically, the sting of her nails digging into my skin and making my heart race. "Good. Now go."

As soon as she released me, I hurried out of the kitchen, trying to regain my composure before entering the living room. When I reached the entrance, I paused, took a deep breath, and stepped inside with the tray.

I served tea to the guests, my hands trembling slightly. When I reached the younger man among them, he deliberately brushed his hand against my calf under the pretense of tying his shoelace. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, feeling a wave of disgust wash over me.

"Aadhya." My grandmother's voice cut through the tension, and I was never so grateful to hear it. I quickly moved back and found an empty seat beside my Chachi, seeking the smallest comfort in her presence.

"So, Aadhya," Dadi began, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet tone, "this is my childhood friend Sandhya, her husband Mahesh, and their children Poonam and Sanjay." I glanced at them and forced a small, polite smile. "They saw you two months ago during Durga Pooja and liked you. So they've asked for your hand in marriage."

I swallowed hard as Dadi exchanged a knowing smile with her friend. All the while, that disgusting creep—Sanjay—kept his eyes locked on me, his stare making my skin crawl.

"Hume toh ladki bohat pasand ayi hai," Sandhya said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Our Sanjay liked you the moment he saw you, and he insisted that he'll marry only you."

(We already like the girl so much)

As her words sank in, it felt like my world tilted on its axis. Everything around me blurred, and a deep, suffocating dread settled in the pit of my stomach. No, they wouldn't be so cruel no they wouldn't; don't marry me off to him. He is closer to my father's age than mine.