Soul Swap: Trapped Forever

The familiar hum of the car engine was a soft background to the chaotic whirl of thoughts in Tripti's mind. She felt as though she was trapped in a movie scene—her life playing out in slow motion, each frame more surreal than the last.

Sarvagya's soft voice broke through her reverie. "Tripti, wake up. We're here."

Her eyes fluttered open, but for a second, she wasn't sure whether she was still dreaming. There he was—his face above hers, looking slightly concerned but with a hidden edge of amusement in his gaze. The sunlight filtering through the windows made his features seem almost softer, less guarded than usual.

"We've reached" Sarvagya repeated, his voice gentle but filled with an unmistakable urgency. He must have noticed the hesitation in her expression.

Tripti blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog of sleep and confusion from her mind. Slowly, she gathered herself, pushing away the layers of uncertainty, and stepped out of the car. The sprawling mansion loomed before her, grand and cold. It was a magnificent structure, no doubt—a palace of wealth and privilege. Yet, to Tripti, it felt suffocating. To her it was nothing more than a golden cage.

What was the use of such beauty when the hearts of the people inside were tainted with cruelty?

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her lehenga, the only thing that felt like it belonged to her in this world of strangers.

As she adjusted her dupatta, she felt the weight of a hundred eyes on her. Servants stood in silent rows, their expressions unreadable. Relatives, some distant, some closer, gathered at the entrance, their murmurs like whispers carried by the wind.

A grand welcome had been arranged—of course, it had. A new bride had entered the Agnihotri house, and traditions had to be honored.

She could hear the sounds of murmurs and laughter inside the mansion as Sejal, Sarvagya's stepmother, appeared at the threshold.

"Welcome home, Tripti" said Sejal, her tone as warm as a summer breeze but laced with an unmistakable edge. The plate she held in her hands—a silver thali decorated with marigolds and incense—seemed to glow under the soft light.

As Sejal moved to perform the aarti, Tripti couldn't help but notice the way her mother-in-law's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint smile playing at her lips, as if she was judging her every movement. The ritual felt surreal—more like a performance than an actual blessing.

As soon as the ritual concluded, Sarvagya leaned in toward Sejal, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm heading to my room. I've had enough of this drama for one day, and I need sleep."

Sejal grabbed his arm and pulled him slightly aside, whispering back, "You're not going anywhere yet. The guests are still here. If you leave the bride standing at the entrance, people will start talking. Just endure it for a little while longer."

Sarvagya sighed, his frustration evident. "Fine. But don't tell me Tripti is staying in my room?"

Sejal smirked. "Obviously. You two are married. Where else would she go? If you want a divorce later, that's your problem. But for now, you'll stay in the same room. Don't even think about requesting a separate guest room—if the servants hear about it, rumors will spread like wildfire. No one can know you're anything less than a happily married couple."

Sarvagya didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something Tripti couldn't place. He exhaled sharply, then spoke with forced casualness, "Fine. But I'm going to my study room after that. I need to be alone."

Sejal simply nodded, but her eyes never left him. "You're free to do as you like, but don't forget your duty as the host. We've only just begun. Stay and endure it, Sarvagya."

As the two exchanged whispered words, Tripti felt a pang in her chest. She was supposed to be the one that fit in, the one that understood these rituals, these games. But all she could feel was a sense of isolation, as though no matter how hard she tried, she would never truly belong.

It was then that Sweety, Keshav's cousin, Sarvagya's aunt, approached with a curious glint in her eyes. She tilted her head, taking in the scene with amusement. "What's going on here, huh? You two seem to be having a secret conversation."

Sejal, quick as ever, put on her best cheerful face. "Oh, it's nothing my dear sister in law, just a small discussion about Tripti's comfort. Sarvagya was just worried about Tripti. He thinks she should get some rest."

Sweety burst into laughter. "Oh, I know what's going on! Sarvagya, you're dying to spend some time alone with your new wife, right? Come on, don't be shy. Just say it."

Sarvagya's smile was tight, forced. He said nothing, but his eyes flicked toward Tripti. The words lingered in the air, their unspoken meaning thick between them.

"Don't worry, Sarvagya," Sweety continued, still grinning. "The honeymoon phase will have to wait. There are more traditions to be completed first."

Sarvagya forced a smile, saying nothing. He had no real interest in these rituals—this was all just an act to keep up appearances. He wanted to make it clear to Sejal and the rest of the family that he didn't care about this marriage. The less they suspected, the safer he and Tripti would be.

But for now, they had no choice but to play along.

_________________

The house was alive with energy as the next ritual was announced. Guests gathered around, filling the room with the scent of perfume, spices, and the faint sound of hushed voices. A large silver bowl sat in the middle, filled with milk and rose petals. Around it, family members and friends eagerly watched, whispering to one another, eyes fixed on the bride and groom.

Keshav, Sarvagya's father, held a small velvet box in his hands. Inside, nestled on a bed of red velvet, was a gold ring—shiny and new.

Sweety's voice rang out. "Alright, lovebirds, it's time for the ring-finding ceremony. You both know how this works, right?"

Sarvagya, feigning ignorance, raised an eyebrow. "Not really, Bua. Why don't you explain it to me?"

She laughed heartily. "Oh, of course. You spent most of your life abroad. Let me break it down for you. The game is simple. We drop this ring into the bowl of milk, and both of you have to search for it. The person who finds it first is said to have the upper hand in the marriage. It's a fun tradition, you know?"

Sarvagya's lips curled into a smirk. "And what do we get if we win, Bua? Or is this just an excuse for you to tease us?"

Sweety waved her hand in the air, dismissing the question. "Oh, no prizes here. Just tradition. The prize is all the teasing you'll get from the family."

As the ring was dropped into the bowl, Tripti remained silent. She didn't want to play their games. This whole ceremony felt like a performance—one that everyone expected them to be a part of, whether they liked it or not.

Sarvagya, however, had other plans. Just as Tripti's fingers brushed against the ring, he reached out and grabbed her hand instead.

Her eyes snapped toward him in warning. What are you doing?!

He didn't let go. Instead, his fingers intertwined with hers, guiding her hand in slow, circular motions beneath the surface. From the outside, it appeared as if they were both earnestly searching for the ring. But in reality, Sarvagya was just messing with her.

Tripti was worried. This wasn't just a game. The eyes of the family were on them, waiting for the slightest sign of affection, of intimacy. The charade had to be maintained, and every move they made, every touch, would be scrutinized.

But the ring was close now, within their reach.

Tripti's heart raced. If anyone suspected something, if anyone caught on—everything would fall apart. Sarvagya's family was dangerous. They would never let them be happy. They'd tear them apart, piece by piece.

She shot him a glare, silently pleading with him to release her hand.

But he only responded with a mischievous smirk.

Sweety, standing nearby, clearly enjoying the spectacle, couldn't resist. "Stop staring into each other's eyes, lovebirds! Find the ring, will you?"

Sarvagya, unfazed, shot back, "That's exactly what we're doing, Bua. Maybe it's your eyes playing tricks on you?"

But Tripti didn't have time for his games. With a swift movement, she pinched his hand, hard.

"Ow!" He flinched, and in that split second, she wrenched her hand free and grabbed the ring. Triumph gleamed in her eyes as she pulled it out of the water and held it up for everyone to see.

The room erupted in laughter and cheers.

Sarvagya scowled at her, while the women of the family delighted in teasing him.

"Poor Sarvagya," one of the ladies cooed. "Looks like your wife is going to rule the household!"

Tripti bit back a smile, watching his irritation grow. Who told him to be romantic in the middle of a game? If he had focused, he could've easily won. But no—he had to pull his little tricks, and now, he was the one sulking.

Sarvagya huffed. "That's it. I'm going to my room. I'm exhausted."

Seizing the moment, Shashank smirked. "Aw, can't handle defeat? It's okay, bro. Life's a game—sometimes you win, sometimes you lose."

Sarvagya's expression shifted. His smile was polite, but there was something sharp beneath it. "Funny. I was just thinking how jealous you must be, knowing I got married to my girlfriend while you're still waiting for yours to return. Don't worry, Shashank. We're here for you. We won't let you feel lonely."

Shashank's jaw tightened. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm patient. Unlike you, I can wait for the right time. You, on the other hand, look eager to get to your room. Must be itching to start your married life."

Their exchange might have sounded like friendly banter to outsiders, but Tripti knew better. This was a battle of veiled threats and warnings. The tension between the two men was no secret.

Tripti stole a glance at Sejal, Gayatri, and Shashank. They were the real threats here. And Keshav? Something was off about him.

Tripti's heart whispered a silent prayer. God, please protect me. I just want to survive. I just want to go home—to my real Sarvagya.

But would fate ever let her escape?