The dinner was set in a softly lit room, warm with the gentle glow of chandeliers and the quiet hum of conversation. Two families sat across from each other, their smiles carefully measured, their words woven with hopes that felt heavier than the delicate porcelain plates before them.
Sia wore a red dress that night — a deep, rich hue that wrapped around her like a promise. The color was bold, defiant, the color of fire and roses and silent strength. It shimmered softly beneath the light, catching the eye, but it was not the dress that made her glow. It was the quiet steel in her spine, the poised calm of her hands folded in her lap.
Kabir’s mother spoke with tender insistence, her voice like velvet as she gently pressed the thought into the evening air. “It’s time, Kabir. A family is not just a dream; it’s a promise. And Sia… she would be perfect.”
His father nodded quietly, eyes steady, reflecting the weight of tradition and desire. This was not just about two people — it was about two families, two worlds merging in expectation and whispered plans.
Across the table, Sia’s mother watched her with hopeful eyes, her hands adjusting the drape of the red dress as if it were armor. Her father remained silent but watchful, his steady presence a quiet fortress.
But beneath the surface, Sia’s breath was shallow, the red silk of her dress a sharp contrast to the heaviness in her heart. Tonight, she carried with her a memory she could never forget — laughter that had turned her dreams to ash.
She had overheard words — fragments — cruel and careless. Laughter that reduced women to objects, fleeting pleasures, things to be discarded once they had served their purpose. It had been a shattering, an awakening — and it had changed everything.
Across from her sat Kabir — once a friend, once a possibility. His eyes searched hers, soft with apology, weighted with regret. But the red dress she wore tonight was not for him. It was for her — a symbol of the strength she had forged from the shards of trust, a color that spoke of passion but also of warning.
The dinner flowed on — laughter and polite words weaving around them like a delicate cage. But inside Sia, there was only the echo of that laughter from years ago, the memory of every careless word she could never unhear.
Kabir’s family wanted this marriage. They had prepared quietly, weaving together a future in which Sia’s voice seemed to fade in the rush of tradition and longing. The idea of an early wedding was no longer just a dream — it was a plan already taking shape, a family’s desire pressing down on them both.
Kabir’s gaze lingered on her red dress, his lips parting as if to speak, to explain, to apologize. But how could he bridge the distance when every inch of red fabric between them was also a wound — a memory of trust lost and never regained?
Sia would not open up tonight. The red dress was her armor, a reminder that she had become a woman who would make any man think twice — no, two thousand times — before they dared to speak carelessly in front of her again.
She stood, her movements graceful as the silk of her dress whispered around her legs, and stepped into the night air. The weight of the evening pressed against her chest, but she drew a deep breath and let the coolness steady her heart.
For a woman like me, who once found joy in life, laughter is now tinged with fear, she thought. A fear that every man who smiles at me might be hiding those same cruel words — treating me like an object, a thing to be used and tossed aside.
But she would not let that fear define her. She would not let the red dress become a mark of their expectations. It was hers — her choice, her strength.
The man she once liked sat still, silent in the warm glow of the dining room, his eyes following her as she disappeared into the darkness. His family’s dreams flickered like candles in the quiet night, but Sia’s promise to herself burned brighter.
She would not be broken. She would not let anyone decide the worth of her laughter or the weight of her silence.
The red dress shimmered in the night air — a reminder that even if the world tried to strip away her dignity, she would reclaim it, over and over again.
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How was the chapter
Ik mein baar baar ek hee chiz repeat kar rahi chapters mein but i want you guys to understand Sia’s fear the way some girl felt when love find them the fear of being a object who doesn't have worth that feelings is worst .
Happy reading Thank-you 🎀❤😭
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