The golden mandap stood like a palace under moonlight, shimmering with marigolds and soft white drapes, but all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat—loud, erratic, terrified.

Your sister was gone.

The family whispers were sharp, frantic, and venomous.

“Aarohi ran away.”

“She ruined everything.”

“The groom's family is waiting—what do we tell them?”

You stood frozen in your bridal lehenga, the rich red fabric weighing on your skin like a curse instead of a blessing. You weren’t even supposed to be in this room.

You were just the replacement.

And then came the voice—your mother’s, cold and determined.

“She’s the only one who can fix this. Y/N, you’ll take her place.”

“What?” you breathed, the word barely escaping your lips. “You can’t be serious—”

“You’ll marry him. No one will know. Not under the veil.”

Her eyes were steel. “Do it for the family. Do it for our name.”

A thousand thoughts crashed inside your mind. But you had no time.

The groom’s side had arrived.

---

Minutes later, beneath the heavy silk veil, your trembling fingers clutched the edges of your dupatta like armor. The chanting of mantras echoed around you, but your world had turned silent.

You didn’t look up once. You couldn’t. Not even when he sat beside you.

Min Yoongi.

Even hidden behind fabric and ceremony, his aura was sharp. Cold. Untouchable.

You’d seen his face in magazines, heard your sister brag about marrying “the Suga of BTS,” but nothing prepared you for the real thing.

There was something quietly dangerous about him—something that made your skin rise in goosebumps. And when his hand accidentally brushed against yours during the rituals, you swore your heart stopped.

Not from butterflies.

From fear.

And when the priest declared you man and wife, the entire hall burst into applause.

But he didn’t.

Yoongi stood still, his jaw tense. His voice didn’t speak the usual “I’ll take care of her” vows. Not even when he finally leaned toward you and muttered under his breath:

“You’re not her.”

Your breath caught.

He knew.

The veil did nothing. The truth still cut through.

Still, the marriage was sealed.

---

Back in the car, silence hung between you like fog.

Yoongi sat stiffly beside you, his gaze straight ahead. “So tell me, Y/N…” he finally said, his voice cold and measured, “Did they pay you to replace her?”

You flinched, your hands twisting your bangles in your lap. “I didn’t want this either.”

“Good,” he muttered, leaning back. “Because this isn’t a marriage. It’s a mess.”

And you both sat in that silence—two strangers bound by culture, betrayal, and a lie.

The world outside cheered for the glamorous union of a superstar and his mystery bride.

But behind the veil, under the spotlight, began a story far darker than anyone imagined.