It was drizzling softly on my wedding day. I sat in the decorated car, heart pounding — not only from nerves, but from a strange, lingering sense of unease.

The car was cruising toward my husband’s house when it suddenly halted. I looked up in surprise and saw a man standing in the middle of the road, dressed in a white shirt, holding a black umbrella.

It was Rohan — my ex-boyfriend. The man I had once loved deeply throughout my four years of college.

His face had turned pale in the rain. His eyes met mine, filled with unspeakable pain. I panicked and turned to my groom, Aarav, but he only furrowed his brows, silent, watching as Rohan stepped closer to the car.

He tapped gently on the window. My hand trembled as I rolled it down. He looked straight into my eyes and asked, his voice hoarse:

“Are you sure? Just one last time — I need to ask.”

That sentence was like a silent blade, slicing through memories I had buried long ago. No begging. No drama. Just one simple question — yet it made my heart waver.

I bit my lip hard, unable to answer. My eyes welled up with tears, but I still shook my head.

Rohan stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slightly, turned around, and walked away through the rain. No more words. No pleading. No desperation. But the look in his eyes as he walked away — it took the breath right out of my lungs. A quiet pain… something left forever unsaid.

The car moved on.

But inside, the air had changed. It was cold. Unbearably silent.

Aarav didn’t speak a word for the rest of the ride. I saw his hand clenched tightly on the seat, his lips pressed into a pale, rigid line.

For a full week after the wedding, Aarav didn’t touch me. Not once.
No embrace, no words of affection.
No honeymoon night.
Every night, we lay side by side in our luxurious bedroom like strangers sharing a bed.

On the seventh night, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I turned to him and asked:

“Are you angry with me?”

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling for a long time before finally answering:

“That question… if you had said ‘I’m not sure,’ would you have stepped out of the car?”

I froze.
Then sighed.
“I chose you,” I said softly. “Not because I had no feelings left for Rohan… but because I believe in a future with you. I’m not looking back.”

He was silent.

Then I whispered, “And you? Did you marry me out of love, or because you felt you had ‘won’?”

This time, Aarav turned and looked at me. A long, deep gaze. Then he spoke quietly:

“I used to think I’d won. But when I saw you trembling at the sight of another man… I realized love should never begin with a victory.”

Tears rolled down my face.

Not for Rohan.
Not for Aarav.
But for myself — for letting the past invade my marriage from the very first moment.

Outside, it rained again.

But this time, I didn’t shiver.
I wiped my tears and reached for Aarav’s hand.

“Then let’s start over — with trust. I’m here, with you. There’s no other choice anymore.”

Aarav looked at me. And for the first time in a week, his eyes softened.
He held my hand — not like someone who had won,
but like a man ready to let go of his pride… and love again,
from the beginning.