---

The smoke rose, glowing faintly through the sacred havan (holy fire), where Aakash sat performing the rituals with utmost attention. His expressionless face, framed by thin eyebrows, remained calm as he followed the priest’s instructions with precision. But when he lifted his gaze towards the royal door, everything changed.

There she was—his fairy.

The music began, and as the door slowly opened, his gaze softened. A small smile curved his lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled heavily before opening them again. His eyes, once unreadable, now overflowed with affection as he watched her walking slowly towards the pavilion.

---

Song played in the background:

Ye laal ishq, ye malaal ishq
(This passionate love, this regretful love)

Ye aib ishq, ye bair ishq
(This flawed love, this hostile love)

Ishq, ishq, ishq…
(Love, love, love…)

Tujh sang bair lagaaya aisa…
(I became your enemy in such a way…)

Rahaa naa main phir apane jaisaa…
(After that, I was no longer myself…)

Meraa naam ishq, tera naam ishq…
(My name is love, your name is love…)

---

She sat beside him while the priest continued chanting the most sacred mantras. Then the priest called for the bride’s parents. Laksha stepped forward, performing the Kanyadan (the sacred ritual of giving away the bride), placing Shashi’s hand in Aakash’s. Emotions rippled quietly through the scene.

After Kanyadan, the couple stood for the Jaimala (exchange of garlands). Shashi, unable to reach his height, looked hesitant. So, with a soft smile, Aakash bowed his head before her, allowing her to place the garland over him.

Next came the Saptapadi (the seven sacred steps symbolizing the journey of life). Together, they walked those seven steps, their fates tied to one another.

When they returned to sit, the priest handed Aakash the mangalsutra. He leaned closer to her, and Shashi froze, her breath caught. With steady hands, he tied it around her neck, applied sindoor in her hairline, and whispered with the faintest smirk—

“Don’t worry, I’m not that bad.”

Her shaky breath escaped as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. In a soft, trembling voice that no one else could hear, she whispered—

“Om Namo Bhagavate Rudraya.”
(I bow down to you, Lord Rudra, for your infinite blessings. Help me remove my fear and negative thoughts.)

Aakash heard the words, but their meaning escaped him. With that, the rituals ended. Together, they bowed for blessings before the priest and the gathered elders.

---

Shashi’s POV

I left everything to my Shivji. I did what was told to me.

Now, I’m sitting in the car beside him. Silent. Still. I don’t even want to move. My veil is pinned tightly to my bun, ornaments clinking annoyingly. I hate it—the sound keeps catching his attention. I swear, I just want to rip these clothes off. This saree is suffocating—though it was gifted by my beloved sister, who in the world designs borders with diamonds that heavy? And on top of that, these necklaces scratching my skin, these earrings weighing me down…

Urghhh!

I’m so done with this. All of it. I just want to sleep.

My Lord, I’m yawning like a fool, eyes drooping shut. But then I remember—I’m supposed to do something fun tonight. My mood instantly shifts. Yay, Shashi! Tonight, I take charge.

But wait—am I ready? I’ve never been this tough on anyone before. Still, chill.

“As you sow, so shall you reap.”

He deserves it. He’s an a**hole. He hurt you, my darling. Be brave. Show him how strong you are.

Soon, the cars glided into the enormous gates of the Rajput mansion. We stopped, and I stepped out with him. At the entrance stood the two Mrs. Rajputs, holding aarti thalis. They welcomed us traditionally.

They gestured for me to kick the rice-filled glass. For a moment, I wanted to kick it hard enough to break someone’s head. But I calmed myself, lifted my saree lightly, and nudged it gently with my toe. Then came the alta (red dye for bridal footprints). I lifted my saree again, dipped my feet, and walked across the white cloth, leaving red imprints behind.

Inside, another ritual awaited—the ring hidden in a bowl of milk. God, not again! But I put on the fakest smile possible, hiding my emotions—emotions I’ve buried for two years.

---

Author’s POV

After the exhausting day of the wedding, everyone was drained. The bride, Shashi, was yawning continuously. The elders decided everyone should rest.

Shashi entered the bridal room, threw her veil on the couch, and within seconds removed her heavy clothes. She walked into the washroom where her skincare items were neatly arranged.

Straight into the shower she went, washing away the day. Afterwards, she slipped into trousers and an oversized t-shirt. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders as she moisturized her face and lips. Drying her hair, she noticed two glasses of turmeric milk on the table.

“Strange,” she thought, “how do they know I always drink milk before sleeping?”

Shrugging, she picked up the glass, drank it, and smiled at the taste. Satisfied, she moved toward the bed when—

Click.

The knob of the door turned.

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Author’s Note

Hey lovelies 💖

Hope you all liked this chapter.
The next one will be even more interesting!

Heartfelt thanks for reading my story.