Soul Swap: Trapped Forever

Tripti gazed at her reflection in the mirror, the intricate patterns of her bridal lehenga shimmering under the soft lighting of the room. Her hair cascaded in perfect waves, and the heavy gold jewelry weighed lightly on her skin, adding an undeniable regal touch. But the most striking part of her appearance was the expression on her face—an almost imperceptible smile that carried a weight of emotions she couldn't quite name.

"Wow," she whispered to herself, almost lost in the moment. "I look stunning. This moment… It's not real, but it feels so real. This feels like my wedding, the one I dreamed about with Sarvagya. Every battle we fought, every roadblock we overcame… All of it led here. Today… even if it's just a role, I get to relive it again."

Her fingers traced the delicate embroidery of her dupatta, her thoughts drifting to the past, to the love that had ignited between her and Sarvagya against all odds. She closed her eyes for a moment, the memories rushing in—a slow-burn romance that started in the quiet corners of the internet, and bloomed into something deeper than either of them had expected. The stolen moments, the secret messages, the touch of his hand the day they met in person. The way his presence had felt like a promise.

Although this was just a story and she was trapped in this world, all these things, these emotions felt real.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a soft voice. "Ma'am, do you like your look? Or would you like any changes?" The makeup artist, a young woman with wide eyes and a nervous smile, awaited her response.

Tripti blinked, focusing on the present. She smiled warmly at the artist. "No, everything's perfect. You've done a marvelous job. Thank you so much."

The artist beamed with pride, visibly relieved, and stepped back, allowing the hairstylist to approach. As the assistants adjusted her lehenga, pinning it carefully to avoid any wrinkles, Tripti couldn't shake the flutter of nerves in her stomach. The closer the moment drew, the more real it seemed.

"Ma'am" a crew member entered, his voice sharp with urgency. "The groom is waiting on stage."

Her heart skipped a beat. The words hit her like a wave, and for a moment, she froze. Why am I nervous? she wondered. This isn't real. Why do I feel like everything hinges on this moment?

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves. It's just a role, she reminded herself. It's just a story. But the emotions were too powerful to ignore. Every step she took felt like it was leading her to something inevitable, something she had longed for and feared in equal measure.

The door creaked open, and Manorama and Pooja stepped in. Their faces lit up when they saw her, eyes wide with delight.

"Tripti, you look absolutely breathtaking!" Manorama gushed, walking around her to take in the full effect. Pooja clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with admiration.

"You're glowing," Pooja teased, nudging her with a playful smile. "Like a real bride."

Manorama, ever the superstitious one, suddenly waved her hand in front of Tripti's face and snapped her fingers. "Just in case," she whispered with a wink.

Tripti laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're really going all in, huh? Superstitious much?"

Manorama shrugged, her grin wide. "Better safe than sorry."

Linking arms with Tripti, Manorama led her toward the wedding hall, her steps quickening as they neared the entrance.

"Beta" she said, lowering her voice "you need to smile. We've told everyone you and Sarvagya are madly in love. So, at least pretend for the audience, okay? For the media, for the family… for the show."

Tripti raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "And how do you suggest I pretend to love someone I barely know?" she asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

Pooja rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Oh, please. It's not a rocket science. Smile a little. Real brides are nervous too. Your hesitance will look completely natural."

Tripti sighed, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her. "Alright, Di. I'll play along."

Meanwhile, on stage, Sarvagya stood, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His hand rested on the cuff of his sherwani as he adjusted it one final time, his gaze flitting nervously toward the entrance. His mind was elsewhere, though, lost in the chaos of his thoughts. Was this really happening? Was he really about to marry Tripti, in front of everyone, despite everything? Despite the lies, the games, the plans… was he ready for this?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp jab to his ribs.

"Try looking happy" Keshav muttered in a low voice. "We've sold the idea that Tripti is your girlfriend. At least put on a good show."

Sarvagya scoffed, shooting his father a frustrated look. "Do I look like an actor to you? My girlfriend is someone else. How am I supposed to pretend to be in love with a complete stranger?"

Keshav smirked, his eyes gleaming with a touch of mischief. "You don't need to propose to her, genius. Just look pleased. Maybe hold her hand, help her adjust her lehenga. Small, romantic gestures. It's all part of the act."

Sarvagya's arms folded tightly over his chest. "You've lost your mind, Mister Keshav Agnihotri. Why would I do that?"

Keshav patted his shoulder, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Because, my dear son, we've lied to an entire room of guests, to the media. Either you play along, or you expose the whole charade. It's your choice."

Sarvagya clenched his jaw. Keshav had a point, but it didn't make him feel any better about the situation. He had no choice. He had to go through with it.

"Fine," he muttered, exhaling sharply. "I'll play along. But you owe me for this one, Mister Agnihotri."

Keshav grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Done."

The whispers and murmurs in the hall grew louder, the anticipation mounting with every passing second. Sarvagya's gaze darted toward the entrance as the doors slowly began to open. His breath caught in his throat.

And then—she appeared.

Tripti stepped into the hall, her steps measured, almost hesitant. The soft lighting cast a halo around her, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to slow down. Her eyes were cast down, but there was a subtle smile tugging at her lips—a smile so soft, so tender, it could have been real.

Is she acting? Sarvagya wondered, his heart beating faster. Or is this the real Tripti I'm seeing?

His confusion was interrupted when Tripti reached the steps leading up to the stage. Without a moment's hesitation, Sarvagya stepped forward and extended his hand to her, his fingers trembling slightly as he did.

She looked up, startled for just a brief second, but her hand slid into his with a natural grace.

Gasps rippled through the hall, followed by whispers of approval. He gently guided her up the steps, his fingers brushing against the heavy fabric of her lehenga as he helped her adjust. As they reached the top, Sarvagya held her steady, and the room erupted into applause.

Tripti lowered her gaze, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she stood by his side.

Keshav, watching from the side, couldn't suppress a low whistle. "Damn. These two are good. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're actually in love."

Not far from him, Shashank's gaze narrowed. Something felt off.

Turning to his mother, Sejal, he muttered, "Mom, something's wrong. They're both putting on a show, but why does Sarvagya look like he just won the lottery? And why is Tripti blushing like she's in love?"

Sejal scoffed, brushing off her son's concerns. "You're overthinking it. They're just acting for the crowd. It's a game, and they're playing it well. Nothing to worry about."

But Shashank wasn't so sure. If it was an act, they both deserved an award. But what if it wasn't?

The ceremony continued as planned, the rituals proceeding smoothly. But the tension was thick in the air, every glance exchanged between Sarvagya and Tripti adding another layer of complexity to the drama unfolding before everyone.

Then, the moment arrived.

Sarvagya took the mangalsutra in his hands, his fingers brushing against Tripti's neck. It was a moment that felt both intimate and ceremonial, the weight of the piece of jewelry symbolizing far more than a mere tradition.

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, Tripti. I can't believe we're really married, and without any obstacles this time. Thank you. For making this happen."

Tripti's lips curved into a soft smile, the words barely escaping her lips. "I love you too."

As the final rituals concluded and the blessings were exchanged, Tripti's family gathered around her, their eyes teary with emotion.

Manorama hugged her tightly, her voice thick with affection. "Beta, you'll visit us, right?"

Tripti smirked, playing along. "Are you sure you want me back? You all seemed eager to get rid of me."

Manorama chuckled, patting her hair affectionately. "Silly girl. Of course, we'll miss you."

Her father, Rahul, placed a firm hand on her shoulder. His voice was low and serious. "Tripti, give this marriage a chance. Try to make it work. And behave. I don't want any complaints."

Tripti put on a mock-terrified expression. "Yes, sir."

And with that, she was off.

In the car with Sarvagya, the weight of the moment seemed to hang between them. Sarvagya handed her a tissue, his voice quiet but knowing. "Here. In case you want to cry."

Tripti raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a hint of amusement. "Thanks, but I'm not crying."

Sarvagya tilted his head, his voice soft. "No sadness about leaving your family behind?"

She shrugged, her voice even. "A little. But not enough to make a scene."

Sarvagya chuckled, but as the silence stretched on, he did something unexpected—he reached over and took her hand in his.

Tripti froze for a moment, the unexpected gesture sending a jolt through her. He gave her a subtle glance, his grip firm but reassuring.

The driver was listening.

They both knew. They had to be careful.

Tripti turned her gaze toward the window, the city lights blurring as they passed by. This marriage, this performance—it had changed everything. What dangers lay ahead, she couldn't yet imagine. But one thing was certain—she was no longer alone.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something neither of them had anticipated.