A harrowing Leukaemia diagnosis, a postponed wedding, and a love like no other

They say love is the most powerful force in the universe...one that conquers all; and indeed, it does. Delhi-born and raised Apurva Agarwal was on the quest for The One—her knight in shining armour, the Raj to her Simran, the sugar to her tea, and so on and so forth. And once she found him, there was no letting go. Families met and dates were set, but who knew fate had other plans...

As they inched closer to the day, the dreaded Big C knocked on her door, uninvited, bringing along myriad hurdles—physical and emotional. It’s been six months...some things have changed, and some haven’t. For one, Agarwal is no longer a fiancé, but a wife. She pens a heartwarming essay entitled 'Scars to Our Beautiful', sharing her own fairy tale; a love story that stands the test of time, and cannot be confined to the words here...it’s forever alive, wild, and free.

“I grew up longing for a love that was out of the ordinary—one that resembled the romantic tales of high school sweethearts, and the love-at-first-sight stories showcased in Bollywood movies; my love story doesn’t fit into either of these moulds, but it is one that embodies patience, resilience, and strength... Withstanding the trials and tribulations of life, it is the kind of love that people dream of.

My now-husband Anirudh and I first met in Chicago, in the fall of ’22. His level-headedness and clear communication kept me hooked. As a matter of fact, a bunch of people have asked me about our first date...assuming that it'd been extraordinary. Although, it was nothing but a comforting trinity of games, pizza, and conversation; Anirudh gloated about his Sequence-playing skills, and he ended up losing three rounds. On our next date, we sat in a garden in the Viagra triangle, chatting and savouring delicious velvet tacos.

We'd begun looking forward to these 'good for the soul' dates...where we'd pour our hearts out. On some nights, he'd cook South Indian delicacies, and on others, I would whip up North Indian meals. Within a few months of dating, we came to realise that this was meant to be; our values, ideals, and visions for our lives synced...affirming our connection and unyielding affection for each other.

Fast forward to March, and we'd met each other's families and decided to tie the knot in December, that same year. As a newly engaged couple about to get married, we were beyond thrilled to begin our lives together. But in November—a mere month prior to our scheduled wedding in India—our lives took an unexpected turn...for the worse. I received a harrowing diagnosis of blood cancer.

The day I was admitted to the hospital, I recall telling Anirudh that it wasn't necessary for us to be together—and that he had the liberty to leave, because it was going to be a long, trying journey...well-stocked with ups and downs. However, he reminded me of our vow to each other, ‘In sickness and in health.’

We had no choice but to postpone our wedding set to take place in Mysuru...it was gut-wrenching. I spent the next 26 days at the hospital, undergoing aggressive chemotherapy owing to the acute nature of the cancer. Anirudh was beside me through it all—the uncertainty of the diagnosis, bringing me homely meals when I couldn't stomach hospital food, and being a comforting presence through every emotional hurdle... He was there to wipe my tears, to keep me company as I aimlessly scribbled on a colouring book, and even slept on the little shelf that passed off as a hospital bed.

Eventually, I began losing hair in patches, and he was there to remind me that I was still beautiful and that he loved me just the same. When I couldn't gather the courage to walk, he whispered, ‘One step at a time.’ He was there...and that is what love is about; you show up for the people you love. You stay strong for the people you love. You cry with the people you love. You are your truest, purest self with the people you love.

Even though our painstakingly planned December wedding was replaced with six weeks of rigorous treatment, we refused to let these setbacks break us. We went ahead with a civil ceremony at my uncle's house in Chicago...in-between neutropenic phases. A civil wedding wasn't something I'd dreamt of growing up—as an Indian woman, I yearned to don a beautiful sari, adorn my hair with fragrant flowers, and wear heirloom jewellery. I accepted that we would live that dream, someday.

But my siblings took it upon themselves to make our new dreams as memorable... I had lost all my hair by then, and was debating how I would present myself on my big day—head wraps, wigs, the works. As I tried on different wigs, I couldn’t shake off the gnawing feeling that I was pretending to be 'fine'. I didn’t look like me; I knew I wanted to show up just as I am, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I messaged my fiancé the night before, telling him that I didn't know what to do, and he said, “I'll be waiting at the altar...in whatever form you show up.” It was the boost of confidence I craved.

With tears in my eyes, I walked down the aisle, arm-in-arm with my father and uncle—navigating a whirlwind of emotions, as I embraced my baldness. I approached the altar as my cousin's rendition of Perfect by Ed Sheeran filled the air. ‘We are still kids, but we are so in love; fighting against all odds...’

My heart swelled with love as my nieces paved the path with fresh roses as I walked down; my nephews proudly presented our rings, and my brother-in-law's words tugged at our heartstrings... Our celebration was a testament to the beauty of our scars, and the intensity of our love. The room, that day, was brimming with love.

My treatment will go on for two more years—and having this kind of love makes it slightly easier to tolerate. Our love gives me emotional strength, and makes me believe, ‘All's well that ends well’. They say good love heals us in ways we can’t quantify... While life may throw obstacles along our path, our love story grows and evolves each day; we choose to be in love, through thick and thin, in sickness and in health.”