Weds
The wedding celebrations begin beneath a sky that seems reluctant to bless them.
Two cousin sisters, Divya and Shivani, are preparing to become brides. The house glitters beneath countless lamps, flowers cover the pillars, relatives move through crowded halls, and music follows every ritual. From the outside, nothing appears unusual.
Yet something feels wrong from the very first ceremony.
Divya is going to marry Rakshit.
Shivani is going to marry Anurag.
Neither groom enters the marriage with the happiness expected from a man beginning another chapter of his life.
Rakshit once built his world around his wife Drishti. Her absence has not erased that attachment. Even as wedding preparations surround him, his memories remain occupied by the woman he once called his wife. He has no desire to replace Drishti with another woman, especially with Drishti's own sister.
His family sees matters differently.
They want an heir.
Their expectations eventually become stronger than Rakshit's resistance, and circumstances bring him before Divya as her future husband.
Anurag carries almost the same emptiness.
Prerna remains inseparable from his memories. Marriage with Shivani is not something he seeks for himself. Yet his family also wants their lineage to continue. Their insistence gradually pushes him toward a second marriage, and Prerna's sister becomes the woman selected to stand beside him.
Neither Divya nor Shivani knows what kind of marriage awaits her.
They only know that the ceremonies have begun.
The engagement night arrives beneath hundreds of golden lights.
Divya and Rakshit stand on one side of the decorated stage while Shivani and Anurag stand nearby. Guests gather before them as photographers prepare to capture the exchange of rings.
Divya holds Rakshit's ring.
Shivani holds Anurag's.
The priest completes the necessary blessings.
Then the lights go out.
Complete darkness swallows the stage.
The music stops.
Several guests gasp while others immediately reach for their phones. For a few seconds, nobody can see the person standing beside them.
Divya feels someone near her.
A hand reaches through the darkness.
Believing it belongs to Rakshit, she takes it.
Only a few steps away, Shivani also finds a man's hand waiting for hers.
Neither woman realizes that people have shifted positions during the confusion.
Divya slides the engagement ring onto Anurag's finger.
Shivani places hers onto Rakshit's.
The men do the same.
A cold gust passes across the stage.
One lamp suddenly ignites by itself near the wedding altar.
Then electricity returns.
Everyone laughs away the interruption.
Divya is again standing near Rakshit.
Shivani is beside Anurag.
No one examines the rings closely enough.
The photographs continue.
The celebration resumes.
Yet Divya briefly looks toward a large antique mirror at the end of the hall.
For one second, the reflection seems wrong.
Four figures are standing on the stage, but their positions inside the mirror do not correspond with reality.
Divya blinks.
Everything appears normal again.
She dismisses the strange sight.
Shivani experiences something equally unsettling later that night.
While walking through the corridor, she hears anklets following her.
She stops.
The sound stops.
She continues walking.
The anklets return.
When Shivani turns around, the corridor is empty.
She dismisses it as wedding exhaustion.
The engagement ends without anyone discovering that the wrong couples have exchanged rings.
Then comes the haldi ceremony.
Morning fills the house with yellow decorations, flowers and laughter. Bowls of turmeric paste are prepared separately for Rakshit and Anurag according to the rituals.
Again, everything seems ordinary.
Until the wind begins.
A sudden current rushes through the courtyard. Curtains rise violently. Flower petals scatter across the floor. Several women hurry to protect the ceremonial plates.
In that brief confusion, the bowls change places.
Nobody notices.
Haldi blessed for Rakshit is carried toward the women's ceremony.
A relative approaches Shivani and lovingly applies it across her cheek.
Rakshit's haldi touches Shivani.
Elsewhere, the paste belonging to Anurag reaches Divya.
She smiles as relatives cover her hands and face with yellow.
Anurag's haldi now marks Divya.
The mistake remains unnoticed.
That evening, Divya washes the turmeric from her skin.
As water flows over her palms, she suddenly notices a faint yellow stain around one finger.
It resembles a ring.
She rubs it.
The mark remains.
When she looks again moments later, it has vanished.
In another room, Shivani experiences the same thing.
Neither sister tells anyone.
The wedding day finally arrives.
The mansion glows beneath thousands of lamps. Divya and Shivani wear their bridal attire while Rakshit and Anurag prepare for ceremonies neither man genuinely desires.
Outside, the sky turns black.
Clouds gather over the house.
Thunder begins before the wedding procession reaches the entrance.
The ceremonies continue despite the worsening weather.
Divya enters beneath her bridal veil.
Shivani follows toward the adjoining mandap.
Rakshit sits before one sacred fire.
Anurag sits before another.
The priests begin chanting.
Then the storm strikes.
Windows burst open simultaneously.
Curtains fly across the halls. Flower arrangements collapse. Lamps extinguish. Guests rush to close doors and protect decorations as rain enters through the open windows.
Another violent gust tears through the wedding area.
The electricity disappears.
The sacred fires flicker dangerously.
Relatives panic because the auspicious wedding hour is passing.
Both brides are moved away from the open side of the hall.
Both grooms are asked to change positions.
People rush through the darkness carrying ceremonial cloths, umbrellas and lamps.
Divya's veil covers most of her face.
Shivani's veil does the same.
Rakshit and Anurag wear similar ceremonial coverings.
Nobody realizes exactly when the positions change.
When emergency lamps finally illuminate the mandaps, everyone is more concerned about completing the weddings before the storm destroys the arrangements entirely.
The priests resume the rituals.
Sacred cloths are tied.
Hands meet.
Vows continue.
Seven rounds are completed around the sacred fires.
Sindoor reaches two bridal hairlines.
Mangalsutras settle around two necks.
The families sigh with relief.
The weddings are successful.
At least, that is what everyone believes.
Divya sits beside the man whom the entire gathering assumes is Rakshit.
Shivani sits beside the man everyone assumes is Anurag.
The storm gradually becomes quieter.
The lights return.
Guests applaud.
Photographers begin taking pictures again.
Nobody pays attention to the engagement rings.
Nobody remembers the exchanged haldi.
Nobody questions why every ritual seems to have repeatedly pulled the couples toward the wrong person.
And beneath layers of wedding clothing and ceremonial confusion, neither bride nor groom yet realizes what has happened.
Divya has married Anurag.
Shivani has married Rakshit.
Far above the wedding hall, a window slowly opens on its own.
The storm has already stopped.
Yet its curtains continue moving.
And somewhere inside the house, the faint sound of anklets begins again.
Morning arrives with none of the peace that should follow a wedding.
The storm has vanished, leaving behind wet roads, broken branches and a strange coldness that follows both newly married couples away from Nainital.
Two cars leave the wedding celebrations in different directions.
Neither carries the couple everyone intended to send away.
Rakshit travels toward Shimla with the woman beneath the bridal veil beside him. He barely looks at her during the journey. His silence has little to do with his new bride. Marriage itself feels like an obligation forced upon a life that still belongs to memories of Drishti.
Beside him, Shivani remains equally distant.
She believes Anurag sits beside her.
Her bridal bangles occasionally strike against one another whenever the car moves across the mountain roads. Each delicate sound somehow makes the silence heavier.
Miles away, another vehicle travels toward Kashmir.
Anurag sits beside Divya without looking carefully at the woman he believes to be Shivani.
Divya remains quiet beneath her veil. Her thoughts repeatedly return to Rakshit and the unfamiliar future awaiting her.
Behind them, Nainital grows distant.
Eventually, the Sharma House becomes empty.
Its final servants close the doors. The sisters who once belonged there have both departed as married women, and nobody remains to occupy the large ancestral property.
One lock closes.
Then another.
The iron gate is secured.
By evening, Sharma House stands alone.
No lamps illuminate its windows.
No voices remain inside.
Only darkness settles through its vacant rooms as the house begins its first night without Divya and Shivani.
In Shimla, the gates of Shergill Mansion open for Rakshit's arrival.
Family members gather near the entrance for the traditional welcome. Lamps glow around the doorway while a ceremonial plate waits for the new daughter-in-law.
Rakshit steps out first.
Then his bride emerges.
A gust catches her veil.
Shivani's face becomes visible.
Rakshit freezes.
Shivani looks directly at him.
Her expression changes instantly.
For several seconds, neither moves.
The Shergills stare at them in confusion.
Rakshit's gaze drops toward Shivani's hand.
A ring gleams upon her finger.
Something about it catches his attention.
He looks at his own hand.
The realization arrives piece by piece.
Shivani examines her ring as well. The engagement ceremony returns to her memory. Darkness. Confusion. A hand offered through the absence of light.
The haldi ceremony follows.
Then the storm.
Then the wedding.
The frightening pattern finally becomes visible.
Rakshit has not married Divya.
He has married Shivani.
Shock spreads through Shergill Mansion.
What initially appears impossible becomes undeniable when the rings, ceremonial details and events of the previous night are reconsidered.
Yet the marriage rituals have already been completed.
The Shergills have no celebration left in them when they welcome Shivani.
The traditional ceremony proceeds because nobody knows what else to do. Shivani crosses the threshold beside Rakshit, but neither carries the happiness of newlyweds.
Far away in Kashmir, another revelation unfolds at almost the same moment.
Basu House waits brightly decorated for Anurag and his bride.
Anurag enters first.
Divya follows.
Her veil shifts as she crosses the entrance.
Anurag turns.
His entire body becomes motionless.
Divya stares back at him.
Neither expected to see the other.
Their confusion quickly turns into disbelief.
Then they notice the rings.
Divya looks at the engagement ring upon her finger and finally recognizes what nobody noticed beneath the restored lights that night.
It belongs to Anurag's ceremony.
Anurag reaches the same conclusion.
Fragments of every ritual begin joining together.
The blackout.
The exchanged hands.
The misplaced haldi.
The violent storm.
The confusion around the mandaps.
The covered faces.
The hurried wedding.
Anurag has married Divya.
The Basus struggle to accept what stands before them, yet the completed rituals cannot simply be erased from the previous night. Eventually, Divya receives an uneasy welcome into Basu House.
Two intended marriages have become two entirely different marriages.
And nobody can explain how so many mistakes occurred one after another.
That night, Shergill Mansion becomes painfully quiet.
Rakshit leads Shivani upstairs.
He does not take her to the bedroom that once belonged to him and Drishti.
That room remains untouched.
For Rakshit, its walls belong to another chapter of his life. Every object inside carries Drishti's presence in his memories. Bringing another wife into that room feels like erasing something he refuses to surrender.
Instead, he chooses another furnished bedroom in the mansion.
Shivani enters behind him.
The room is comfortable, spacious and elegant, yet neither feels that it belongs to them.
Rakshit cannot regard Shivani as the woman he expected to marry.
Shivani cannot suddenly accept Rakshit as her husband.
Until yesterday, her future carried Anurag's name. Her wedding clothes, expectations and every imagined moment after marriage were connected to him.
Now another man's name is attached to her marriage.
Distance remains between Rakshit and Shivani throughout the night.
Their wedding remains physically unconsummated.
In Kashmir, Divya faces the same reality.
Anurag deliberately avoids the bedroom associated with Prerna.
He cannot bring Divya into a space filled with memories of his first wife. Doing so feels disrespectful to everything that room represents to him.
He therefore opens another bedroom that has remained unused.
Divya walks inside.
The unfamiliar room seems colder than the rest of Basu House.
She had entered the wedding believing Rakshit would become her husband. Her expectations had formed around him.
Instead, Anurag stands across the room.
Neither approaches the other as husband and wife.
Anurag remains bound to Prerna's memories.
Divya remains unable to reconcile herself with the fact that Rakshit is now married to Shivani.
Their marriage also remains physically unconsummated.
Four people spend their first married night separated by circumstances none of them chose.
Much later, the lights of Shergill Mansion disappear one by one.
Basu House also falls silent.
Hundreds of kilometres away, Nainital lies beneath thick mountain fog.
The abandoned Sharma House stands behind its locked gates.
Nothing should be moving inside.
Yet sometime after midnight, a faint sound travels through one of its empty corridors.
A bridal anklet rings once.
Then another answers it from a different floor.
The house remains locked.
And nobody is there to hear them.
Night settles over two distant houses.
In Kashmir, Basu House becomes silent beneath the freezing darkness. Cold wind moves through the trees surrounding the property, occasionally brushing against the bedroom windows with a faint scraping sound.
Divya sleeps beside Anurag on their bed.
Despite sharing the same mattress, a careful distance remains between them. Their marriage has brought them into one room, but it has not brought them closer. Anurag sleeps facing away from her while Divya gradually sinks deeper into an uneasy sleep.
Then the bedroom disappears from her senses.
Divya finds herself somewhere unfamiliar.
Darkness surrounds her.
Two young women appear before her.
They are cousin sisters.
Their faces are unclear at first, almost blurred beneath a strange reddish mist. A table stands between them, covered with beautifully decorated sweet dishes. Silver bowls gleam beneath dim light.
The sisters consume the sweets.
Suddenly, one of them clutches her throat.
The other drops the bowl.
Their bodies begin weakening rapidly.
Divya watches helplessly as both women struggle for breath. One collapses against the table, scattering sweets across the floor. The second attempts to reach her cousin before her own strength abandons her.
Poison.
Something poisonous has been mixed into the sweets.
Their trembling hands reach toward one another.
Before their fingers can meet, both become motionless.
Divya rapidly wakes.
She sits upright on the bed.
Her breathing turns uneven as she looks around the unfamiliar bedroom.
Anurag remains asleep beside her.
For several seconds, Divya cannot separate the nightmare from the room around her.
Then something flashes beside the window.
Divya turns.
For an instant, the glass no longer reflects the bedroom.
She sees those two women again.
Sweet dishes.
Falling bowls.
Trembling fingers.
Two bodies collapsing.
The images flash rapidly around her like fragments of a memory that does not belong to her.
Then everything disappears.
Only the dark window remains.
Divya slowly looks outside.
Kashmir stretches beneath the night. Trees sway beneath the cold wind. Distant mountains appear almost black against the sky. Nothing outside explains what she has just witnessed.
Then a whisper touches her ear.
Divya.
Her body stiffens.
The voice is unmistakably feminine.
Soft.
Familiar.
Terrifyingly close.
Divya turns immediately.
Nobody stands beside her.
Anurag remains asleep.
Again, the whisper comes.
Divya.
This time she recognizes it.
Drishti.
Divya's face loses its colour.
She presses both palms over her ears.
The bedroom remains empty.
Yet Drishti's voice seems to linger somewhere between the walls.
Far away in Shimla, Shivani is experiencing the same night.
She sleeps beside Rakshit on their bed, separated from him by the same uncomfortable distance that has existed since their accidental marriage.
Then her sleep carries her somewhere else.
Two cousin sisters sit before plates of sweets.
Shivani cannot clearly see where they are.
She watches one woman consume a sweet.
The other follows.
Within moments, their expressions change.
One struggles to breathe.
The second reaches toward her before violently dropping her plate.
The sweets scatter.
Their bodies weaken with frightening speed.
Shivani tries to move toward them, but she cannot.
She can only watch.
One sister collapses.
Then the other.
Both die before her eyes.
Shivani wakes abruptly and sits upright.
Rakshit remains asleep beside her.
For a moment, she simply stares ahead.
Then her attention moves toward the bedroom windows.
She looks outside.
Shimla lies beneath dense mist. Pine trees appear as tall black shapes beyond the glass. The night seems unusually still.
Suddenly, images begin flashing across the window.
Two women.
Poisoned sweets.
A fallen bowl.
A hand reaching across the floor.
Death.
The fragments surround Shivani for only seconds before disappearing completely.
She moves closer to Rakshit instinctively but stops herself.
Then someone whispers beside her ear.
Shivani.
She freezes.
Her eyes move across the bedroom.
Nobody is there.
Another whisper follows.
Shivani.
She recognizes the voice.
Prerna.
Shivani immediately closes both ears with her palms.
At that exact moment, hundreds of kilometres away, Divya is doing the same.
Two sisters sit upright beside two sleeping men.
Two unfamiliar deaths have entered their dreams.
Two dead wives have whispered their names.
And in Nainital, the locked Sharma House remains submerged in darkness.
Inside its deserted kitchen, two empty plates rest upon a dusty table.
A faint sugary fragrance begins spreading through the room.
No one has entered the house.
No one has prepared anything.
Yet beside the plates, two pieces of sweet slowly roll across the table and fall onto the floor.
