God, seriously? What did I ever do to you to deserve this particular brand of torture? I’m standing here in a silk saree that feels like it was stitched from barbed wire, my heels are threatening to sabotage me at any moment, my lipstick has decided to run a marathon across my face, and my hair, well, my hair is staging a full-scale rebellion. And for what? To watch Hriday Chaturvedi marry Nishtha Pandey. Nishtha Pandey. The girl who apparently checks every “perfect bride” box in the universe, smiles like she owns the sun and marry the man has the audacity to make my stomach flip with a single glance at him. And me? I’m Aarohi Tiwari, history professor, gold-medalist, part-time writer, only daughter of the DC of Varanasi, and apparently cursed when it comes to my heart.