The room fell silent. The groom's mother clutched her chest as though physically struck. Piyush stared at the floor, avoiding everyone's gaze. The old man cleared his throat again, visibly uncomfortable. "These matters… these things… sometimes take time. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding, or maybe—"
"No," Bani interrupted sharply, her voice calm but resolute. "It's not a misunderstanding. It's neglect. He never even tried, Uncle. He didn't care. A marriage isn't just a contract or a ritual—it's about connection, partnership, and respect. And I've been treated like an outsider in my own home, in my own marriage."
The groom's father frowned, his face darkening. "This is not how family matters should be discussed, Bani," he said sternly.
Bani turned to him, unflinching. "And what is the way, Uncle? To stay silent? To suffer quietly so no one feels uncomfortable? I've done that for eighteen months. I won't do it anymore."
The old man raised a hand, attempting to placate both sides. "I understand this has been difficult," he said carefully. "But maybe there's still a way to work things out. Perhaps if you give it more time—".
I've given it time!" Bani snapped, her voice breaking slightly. Then, softening, she continued with tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall. "Eighteen months, Uncle. Eighteen months of waiting, hoping, and trying to make it work. But it's clear now—it never will. I refuse to spend another day living in a marriage that doesn't exist."