Lal Mirch didn't wear white.
White was… pure. Innocent. Lal Mirch wasn't.
Her hands were stained, her heart succumbing to the darkness.
She could just hear his voice, whispering: "Someday, you and I, we'll get married. We'll be together."
Someday hadn't happened, wouldn't ever.
Lal Mirch didn't wear white.
[A/N: In Chinese culture, white is actually the color of mourning. Just remembered that AFTER I wrote this. That particular meaning doesn't apply in this context.]