The house was alive with celebration. Strings of lights glowed across the courtyard, laughter echoed from every corner, and the fragrance of fresh jasmine filled the air.
Sanya's eyes sparkled as she tried on her wedding jewelry, while Akhil teased her gently, pretending to complain about how heavy the ornaments looked. Their marriage was only weeks away, and everything seemed perfect—at least, on the surface.
But in Akhil's heart, there was still an unanswered ache.
He couldn't shake the image of Ram in the marketplace—the forced smile, the trembling confession, and the pain hiding behind his eyes.
One evening, as wedding cards were being packed neatly into envelopes, Akhil quietly picked up one. He wrote Ram's name on it, hesitated for a moment, and then sealed it shut.
"Who's that for?" Sanya asked playfully, peeking over his shoulder.
Akhil turned to her with a small smile. "A friend. Someone we shouldn't forget."
Sanya tilted her head curiously but didn't press further.
The next day, Akhil made his way to the old neighborhood where Ram once lived. The small lane felt unchanged—the same rusted gates, the same quiet trees—but somehow lonelier.
Knocking on the faded wooden door, Akhil waited until it creaked open. Ram stood there, thinner than before, his eyes heavy but still carrying that gentle warmth.
"Akhil…" Ram said softly.
"I came to give you this," Akhil replied, handing him the envelope.
Ram stared at it for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "A wedding card?"
"Yes," Akhil said carefully. "I… we want you there. Sanya will be happy if you come."
Ram's smile faltered, but he quickly covered it with a shrug. "Which fool would attend the wedding of the girl he loved? Tell me, Akhil, do you think my heart is made of stone?"
Akhil's throat tightened. "Ram…"
Ram looked down at the card, his fingers trembling slightly as he held it. "Still, thank you. For thinking of me." He forced a chuckle. "At least I get to keep this as a memory."
His words carried both gratitude and unbearable sorrow.
As Akhil left, he couldn't shake the weight pressing on his chest. He had done what a friend should—but somehow, it felt like he had just carved Ram's wound deeper.
The days passed, and the wedding drew closer. Guests arrived, music filled the air, and the world seemed to be celebrating.
But somewhere, in a quiet corner of the city, a man sat alone with a wedding card in his hands. The ink of Sanya's name gleamed under the light, and every time Ram read it, it was as if a part of him faded away.
And yet, he smiled—because if she was happy, then that was enough.