Aarti Cried at Her Own Wedding — She Was Forced to Marry a Rich Grandfather to Save Her Family… But on the Wedding Night, When She Came Out of the Bathroom, Aarti Almost Fainted 😲😲😲

On the day of her wedding, Aarti stood silently in front of the mirror inside a dimly lit room of her ancestral home in Bihar. She wore a cream-colored lehenga, borrowed from a cousin. Her hands, decorated with mehndi, trembled slightly as she held a modest bouquet of jasmine and marigolds.

Her best friend Rekha came up from behind and hugged her tightly.

“You are strong, Aarti. Don’t forget that you are strong,” she whispered in her ear.

Aarti nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

The wedding was held at the old village temple. The groom, Mr. Mahendra Pratap Singh, stood waiting in a sherwani and turban. His white mustache was groomed carefully, and his hair—mostly grey—gleamed under the temple lights. He was in his late sixties, a respected landlord with wealth that stretched across multiple districts.

“I accept,” Aarti whispered, barely audible.

Then Mahendra slid the gold ring onto her finger, and a garland of roses was placed around her neck.

She cried in the middle of the ceremony — not from joy, but from fear, pain… and perhaps a tiny flicker of hope.

The guests, of course, thought her tears were from happiness.

But only Aarti knew the truth.

 A Deal She Couldn’t Refuse

Aarti had agreed to the marriage to save her family from ruin. Her father’s shop had collapsed in debt. Her younger brother needed money for school. Mahendra had offered financial relief — but with one condition: marriage.

After the ceremony, Mahendra took Aarti to his estate in Lucknow. A marble mansion with high ceilings, quiet chandeliers, and servants who folded their hands in greeting as they walked past.

It felt cold.

Aarti’s rubber chappals from the village echoed oddly on the pristine marble floors. Her cotton dupatta felt out of place in a world of silk and gold.

Mahendra noticed.

He touched her shoulder gently and said, “There’s no need to rush. Get used to it slowly.”

That night, overwhelmed, Aarti requested a room of her own to rest. Mahendra nodded, understanding.

Behind the closed door, she finally exhaled. The silence pressed around her like a blanket. The noise and rituals of the wedding faded, replaced by the sound of her own breathing.

She thought of her mother crying quietly during the bidaai. Of her father, not daring to look her in the eyes. Of her brother, waving with guilt behind his smile.

She lay on the bed, eyes wide open. Sleep refused to come.

 The Night Turns Strange

Then she heard it.

A faint sound. Flowing water.

She sat up. The sound was steady—like a stream, not a leak.

“The bathroom?” she thought.

She hesitated. Maybe Mahendra wasn’t feeling well? He was old, after all. Perhaps he had collapsed?

Aarti put on a silk shawl over her nightwear and walked toward the hallway. The house was almost entirely dark, except for a thin strip of light under the bathroom door.

Her heart began to pound.

She reached out and gripped the brass doorknob.

Took a deep breath.

And opened the door.

What she saw inside…

made her gasp so hard she nearly fainted

Part 2: What Aarti Saw in the Bathroom Changed Everything

As the door creaked open, Aarti’s heart dropped. She gripped the edge of the wall for support.

There, standing in front of the mirror… was Mahendra. But not the frail, elderly man she had stood next to at the mandap just hours ago.

He was shirtless, water dripping down his chest, and he was… completely transformed.

His back was straight, his skin firm, his hair no longer fully grey — and most shockingly, his face was no longer wrinkled.

Aarti stumbled backward.

“W-What…?” she whispered, unable to make sense of what she was seeing.

Mahendra turned toward her. His eyes, sharp and alert, no longer carried the dullness of age.

“I was hoping to tell you tomorrow,” he said calmly, wrapping a towel around his waist. “But I suppose you were curious.”

Aarti stared in silence.

“You’re… not old?” she finally managed to say.

Mahendra sighed, then walked toward a drawer in the bathroom. He pulled out a small vial filled with shimmering, pale blue liquid.

“This,” he said, “is a highly experimental youth serum. A biotech company I invested in years ago made it — and I was their first human subject.”

He looked down at the vial.

“The effects are temporary. I have to keep reapplying. My public appearance — the wrinkles, the cane — is just an illusion.”

Aarti was speechless.

“So… the entire wedding… was based on a lie?”

Mahendra looked at her, solemn.

“Not a lie. A test.”

“I’ve met dozens of women who chased my name, my money. You were the only one who said yes for your family, not yourself. I needed someone who wasn’t in it for greed.”

Tears welled in Aarti’s eyes.

“You manipulated me.”

“I needed someone who could love the man, not the image. Not the bank account. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

Aarti turned and ran out of the bathroom, her heart thundering in her chest.

Part 3: The Choice That Made Her Stronger

The next morning, Aarti sat silently by the window, watching the sunrise. She hadn’t slept. Her thoughts were a storm.

The door opened gently.

Mahendra entered, now dressed again in his older form — slow, fragile, and aged.

He knelt beside her.

“I won’t blame you if you want to annul this marriage. I’ll still help your family. You’re free to walk away.”

Aarti looked at him. Her voice was steady, though her hands trembled.

“What do you want from me? Really.”

“A partner,” he said. “Not a nursemaid. Not a trophy. Someone who sees through me — and still chooses to stay.”

She stood.

Walked to the mirror.

Stared at herself.

The same lehenga. The same jasmine in her hair.

But something had changed.

She had been forced into this marriage to save her family. But now, the choice was hers. For the first time… it was her decision.

She turned to him.

“I won’t forgive the deception overnight. But if what you said is true — and you truly want partnership, not ownership — then you’ll give me time.”

Mahendra nodded.

“All the time you need.”

Aarti walked past him — not toward the exit, but toward the garden.

For now, she would stay.

Not because she was trapped…

But because she would no longer live by fear.

Not of age, not of men, not of expectations.

And this time, if she was to fall in love — it would be on her own terms