Page 114 of Mrs. Rathore

I turned.

He stood frozen in the doorway, still in his uniform. His gaze swept over me, head to toe, and I could actually feel the heat of it. My breath caught. His expression was unreadable. It was shock, awe, maybe even frustration. I wasn’t sure.

He looked like he’d walked straight out of a film. The olive green uniform fit him perfectly, sharp and masculine. If only he knew how painfully attractive he looked, how easily he stole all the air from the room.

“Um… yes?” I finally spoke, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “How do I look?”

“Shit, Avni…” he muttered under his breath and looked away, running his fingers through his hair. He let out a sharp exhale, like he was trying to shake something out of his head. “We’re running late.”

He didn’t answer my question.

“What?” I asked, confused and a little hurt by his reaction.

“You look perfect,” he said quickly, still not looking at me. Then he walked away. “I should get ready.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed, nervously twirling a loose thread from the saree. Perfect? That word, coming from his mouth, should’ve made me feel beautiful. But his reaction only made me more anxious.

I stood again in front of the mirror, staring at myself.

“Perfect,” I whispered, mimicking Aryan’s voice with a faint, unsure smile.

I wasn’t Ira. I knew that. I wasn’t stunning or flawless like her. But I wasn’t ugly either. I had curves, a defined waistline, and a decent face. Not model-beautiful, maybe, but sometimes I saw a version of myself that was pretty.

And tonight, I knew I looked pretty.

“Shall we go?” Aryan’s voice came again, softer this time.

I turned. He’d changed into a slim-fit white dress shirt tucked into grey trousers. His short hair was still damp from the shower. After slipping on his silver watch, he sat to put on his socks.

He looked sharp, calm, and put-together as always.

I, on the other hand, felt like a storm barely contained in silk.

The community hall at the Barmer cantonment glowed warmly under soft, golden lights. It felt like walking beneath a sky full of tiny, twinkling stars, thanks to the fairy lights strung across the ceiling. At the entrance, two large, polished brass lamps cast a welcoming glow, while garlands of bright orange marigolds framed the doorway, filling the air with their earthy scent and festive energy.

As we stepped inside, the hall felt vast and airy, buzzing with laughter and soft chatter. The atmosphere was warm and cheerful as children’s giggles floated through the space, accompanied by mellow music playing somewhere in the background. The décor was a beautiful mix of Indian traditionand modern style. Round tables were draped in white linen with maroon runners, and each centerpiece was a glass bowl filled with fresh roses, lilies, and carnations. The fragrance was gentle, and calming.

On one side, a simple stage held a sign that read “Regimental Family Evening” above the Indian Army insignia. A few children darted playfully near it, while their mothers watched half laughing, and half scolding them gently.

The aroma of food wafted through the air, making my mouth water. A long buffet table stood at the back, manned by polite servers in crisp black vests and white gloves. Silver serving trays gleamed under the lights, filled with North Indian delicacies: butter chicken, paneer tikka masala, fragrant basmati rice, and hot tandoori rotis stacked high. There were snacks too: succulent kebabs, crispy samosas with tangy chutneys. And desserts: glossy gulab jamuns, soft rasmalai, and a grand cake adorned with the army crest.

Near the entrance was a drinks counter, lined with soft drinks and colorful mocktails. There was no alcohol, which made sense this was a family gathering, and kids were everywhere.

I felt out of place at first. Everything was beautiful, but the people… they weren’t mine. I didn’t know anyone. But Aryan gave me a reassuring smile, the kind that told me to breathe. I glanced around at men in sharp shirts and trousers, women in graceful saris and elegant suits, their jewelry minimal but tasteful. Everyone seemed to know each other, greeting one another with warm smiles, easy laughter, and handshakes.

Aryan introduced me to a few officers and their wives. They were kind, warm, and even welcoming. Someone complimented mysaree, and another asked where I was from. I smiled, nodding, answering politely, and trying to seem relaxed while my insides twisted with nerves. This was all so new, and I was still trying to find my place.

Then Aryan leaned in close and whispered, “Not bad, right?”

I smiled genuinely this time. He was right. It wasn’t bad at all. It felt like finding a warm little pocket of comfort in the middle of a cold, and unfamiliar world.

“I’ll be right back,” Aryan said.

I nodded nervously as he walked away, leaving me among women I barely knew.

“So, how did your love story begin?” one of them asked, smiling with unmistakable curiosity.

I blinked, caught off guard. I gave a small, shaky laugh. “To be honest, I didn’t even know when it started…”

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