The sacred smoke curled through the air, illuminated by the soft glow of the havan. Aakash sat there, performing each ritual with unwavering focus, following the priest’s instructions with precision. His face was blank—expressionless—but his sharp, thinned eyebrows revealed an inner storm.
Then, his gaze lifted towards the royal doorway. His fairy stood there.
Music began to swell, and as the grand doors opened, his gaze softened. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, then opened them again—this time, only to see her.
She walked slowly towards the mandap (pavilion), her every step filled with grace. He couldn't take his eyes off her. There was nothing but love—pure and infinite—in the way he looked at her.
“Ye laal ishq, ye malaal ishq...”
(This red love, this regretful love…)
The haunting melody echoed as she walked.
She took her place beside him while the priest chanted sacred mantras. The aura was divine. When the priest called for the bride’s parents, Laksha stepped forward and performed the kanyadaan, placing Shashi’s delicate hand into Aakash’s strong one. Emotion shimmered in the sacred space.
Following the kanyadaan, it was time for the jaimala. Shashi, much shorter than him, struggled to place the garland around his neck. Without hesitation, Aakash bowed his head to her level. The gesture—simple yet powerful—spoke volumes.
Next came the saptapadi—the seven sacred steps symbolizing the journey of life they were about to embark upon together. Each step echoed a vow, a promise, a destiny.
Once done, they sat again. The priest instructed Aakash to tie the mangalsutra. As he leaned closer, Shashi stopped breathing for a second. Her heart pounded as he applied sindoor (vermillion) on her forehead.
He whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m not that bad.”
A shaky breath escaped her lips. A lone tear rolled down her cheek as she softly murmured:
“Om namo bhagavate rudraya.”
(I bow down to you for your infinite blessings. Help me remove my fear and negative thoughts.)
He heard her... but didn't understand a word. Yet something in her tone stirred him. The rituals were completed, and together, they bowed before the priest and elders, seeking blessings.
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Shashi’s POV
I left everything in the hands of my Shiv ji. I followed every instruction. And now… here I am. Sitting beside him in the car. Silent. Still. Not even breathing too loud.
My veil sits neatly over my bun, ornaments clinking gently—so annoying. They’re catching his attention. I swear I just want to rip this whole thing off—this overly heavy saree, gifted by my beloved sister. But who, in the name of fashion, puts actual diamonds on the border?
And these necklaces… itching.
These earrings… ugh!
I’m so done. Done with this all. I just want peace, a deep sleep. I’m yawning so wide my jaw hurts, eyes half-lidded.
But wait.
Tonight’s the night. The night.
And suddenly... my mood flips. I'm excited. Because tonight, I take charge.
I’ve never gone this hard before. But hey—as you sow, so shall you reap, right?
He deserves it. That arrogant, heartless jerk. He hurt you, my darling. Time to be brave. Time to show him your steel.
Soon, we reached the Rajput Mansion. The giant doors opened and the car glided in. As we stepped out, both Mrs. Rajputs stood waiting, aarti thalis in hand. They did our aarti and then gestured toward a small glass filled with rice.
Kick it, girl, just kick it.
But no. Breathe. Be composed.
I lifted my saree slightly and gently tapped the glass with my toe. Then I stepped into the alta, staining my feet red, leaving footprints on the white cloth spread out for me.
We moved to the living room. And—ugh—another ritual. The ring in the milk. Just great. But of course, I did it all with a perfectly fake smile. A mask I’ve worn for two years now.
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Author’s POV
After the exhausting whirlwind of rituals, everyone was drained. And the bride? She was yawning endlessly. The family decided to finally let the couple rest.
Shashi entered the bedroom, throwing her veil onto the couch. Without hesitation, she began undressing, shedding the weight of the day. She walked straight into the washroom where everything was neatly arranged.
The shower welcomed her like a sigh of relief.
Refreshed, she put on a pair of loose trousers and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair, still damp, fell across her shoulders as she applied moisturizer and lip balm.
Then her eyes landed on two glasses of warm turmeric milk on the table.
How did they know I drink milk before bed?
She smiled faintly and drank it, savoring its soothing taste.
She climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers up—
Click.
The door knob turned
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