"Meera beta, can you please pass this vessel to the caterer?" Lakshmi aunty asked, balancing a tray in one hand and stress in the other.

"Sure, aunty!" I chirped, grabbing the giant steel pot like I was born to serve at weddings. She nodded gratefully and vanished into the chaos, already on to her next mission—probably rescuing a fallen marigold garland or scolding someone for folding napkins the wrong way.

The house? Oh, it looked like a tornado had waltzed through a wedding magazine. Cousins were sprinting around like caffeinated ants, aunties were shouting lovingly (read: yelling), and Bollywood songs blasted from every corner as if the house itself had joined the sangeet practice.

Why all this madness, you ask?

Well, Abhishek Rathore—the golden boy, the eldest son of the Rathore's—is getting married in just two days. The first wedding in our generation. Basically, if this event doesn't break the internet or make it to the society gossip column, we've failed as a family.

And trust me, no one here takes failure lightly.

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Oh! Silly me — I totally forgot to introduce myself. Hi there! I'm Meera Khanna, 23 years old, currently juggling my master's in Computer Science (yes, coding and heartbreaks, both ruin your sleep). Right now, I'm staying at the grand Rathore mansion to attend the most awaited wedding of the year — my best friend Roohi's elder brother's wedding.

Now here comes the juicy part — the groom-to-be is also my long-time, never-confessed, sigh-inducing, emotionally damaging crush.

Crush? Oh yes, big fat CRUSH. Honestly, who wouldn't fall for Abhishek Rathore? That man is like if Greek gods decided to take a corporate job and sprinkle some sanskaar (values) on top. Six feet of pure charm, broad shoulders that scream "I lift but I'm gentle", a chiseled jaw that could cut through glass, and those light brown eyes that seem like they were mixed with just the right amount of dusk and dreams. Add that sun-kissed, warm brown skin — and you've got a walking heartbreak.

But the real heart-melter? His personality. He's not your usual fictional billionaire who's cold, rude, emotionally constipated, and allergic to kindness. Nope. Abhishek is the kind who'll open the door for you and remember how you like your tea. He's charming, grounded, kind, hardworking, and everything your mom would pray for — which, obviously, makes him the kind of guy who'd be taken.

And taken he is.

He's getting married to Tanya, the daughter of a business partner. She's a successful model with legs for days, and from what I've heard, the proposal came from her side. The Rathore's said yes, and now... here we are. An arranged marriage in the grandest style possible.

Am I heartbroken?

Ugh. YES — in all caps, bold, and underlined. I've had this massive crush on him since I was sixteen. But I never said anything. Why would I? He's always treated me like Roohi — like a kid sister. Ouch, right? The kind of ouch that doesn't bleed but stings forever.

Will I get over him?

Big. Fat. YES. again. He's just a crush — not the love of my life. I believe in love after marriage. My parents fell in love after their arranged marriage and look at them now — still fighting over the TV remote but in love through it all. So, I'll wait. The right guy will come along, hopefully not while I'm eating biryani with my mouth full.

Am I happy about this wedding?

Surprisingly, YES. If Abhi is happy, and his family is happy, then I am too. Plus — come on, it's an Indian wedding! That means drama, dance, lehengas, cousins you barely recognize, and enough food to feed three villages. It's not like I'm going to hide in a corner, crying into a samosa just because my crush is getting married.

Nope. Not me.

If your long-time crush is getting married, it's not the end of the world. It's just a redirection. I've got dreams to chase, goals to crush, and gulab jamuns to steal. I'm the kind of girl who dances through heartbreak and laughs at life's curveballs.

So yeah — bring on the wedding! I'm going to enjoy every moment of it with Roohi, Reena, and Rohan.

Because if I'm going to suffer heartbreak, I might as well do it in a lehenga, with highlighter on point and jalebi in hand.

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Reena and Rohan — the mischievous twins — are Abhi and Roohi's cousins, children of their dad's younger brother. Both are 21, loud by nature and louder by volume. They've practically declared themselves the unofficial "wedding entertainment committee," and honestly? They're nailing it.

Roohi and I? We're both 23, born just a few weeks apart and practically inseparable since diapers. Our dads are best friends, business partners, and co-conspirators in just about everything — including parenting. So naturally, Roohi and I ended up being soul sisters from birth. If you ever find one of us, the other one is never far behind — usually hiding snacks or gossiping about our latest academic disasters.

Abhishek, the man of the moment (and the crush of my teenage dreams), is 28 — same age as my older brother Karan. Both of them are walking, talking advertisements for "successful elder sons." They've been best friends since forever, and now they're the joint CEOs of charm, charisma, and Rathore-Khanna family pride.

Honestly, I've spent more time growing up in this mansion than in my own house. The Rathore's have always treated me like one of their own — whether it was feeding me mangoes in summer, yelling at me like their own child during exams, or now, handing me glittery dupattas and yelling, "Meera, safety pins, now!"

So yeah, this explains why my entire family has been practically living in the Rathore mansion these past few days — even though our house is literally next door. I mean, why waste time walking across the street when you can just move in with your second family, right?

Besides, when a big fat Indian wedding is happening in your extended home, you don't visit — you merge.