Isha’s POV

Silence wrapped itself around me after Dadi’s words.

I lowered my eyes, unable to respond at once. My lips trembled, yet no sound came out.

Yes… it was true. Somewhere deep inside, without my consent, my heart had already given Shivam a place. Perhaps not fully, perhaps not enough to name it “love” aloud, but enough for me to notice the warmth that flickered whenever he was near. A strange, frightening comfort.

But I had never expected things to move this fast. Never thought that from those shy glances and half-formed words, we would reach the question of marriage. Marriage… it sounded like a word from another life, not mine. I had always imagined my story with him as something unfinished, broken before it could bloom. Not this. Never this.

My throat tightened. I closed my eyes, as though shutting the world would protect me from reality. My mind betrayed me, though, rushing back to the very first moment we met—the garden, the faint fragrance of jasmine in the air, the suddenness of his presence.

His voice still echoed in my ears, calm yet steady. And the way he looked at me… as if I was the only person in his world, as if nothing else mattered if he could just keep me in sight. That gaze had unsettled me, shaken me, and yet wrapped me in an inexplicable safety.

Two days. Only two days. Could anyone truly fall in love in such a short span? And yet, here I was, torn between disbelief and the undeniable truth that my heart beat differently now.

When I lifted my eyes, they found his. I searched his gaze, almost desperately, hoping to find hesitation, doubt, something that could slow this storm. But all I saw there was softness. An endless patience, as though he had waited his whole life for this exact moment.

A faint smile broke across my lips despite myself. With trembling fingers, I placed my hand gently on Dadi’s, feeling the frail yet firm grip of her love. My voice, quieter than a whisper, yet carrying all the weight of my decision, escaped my lips.

“If this is truly your wish, Dadi… and if Shivam ji himself desires it too, then… I will marry him.”

AUTHOR POV

Dadi’s eyes glistened with a joy that words could never capture. She turned her wrinkled face toward Shivam, her voice filled with both authority and affection.

“Will you, my boy… will you marry my granddaughter?”

Shivam did not hesitate. Not for a single breath.

“Yes, Dadi,”

he answered, his voice unwavering, his eyes never leaving Isha’s.

“I will marry her.”

The conviction in his words sent a shiver down Isha’s spine. She felt her breath quicken, her hands tremble despite her desperate attempt to stay composed.

Just then, Rishi entered, his tone practical and businesslike, almost out of place amid the trembling emotions in the room.

“Bhai, the registration file is ready.”

The words struck Isha like a revelation. Rishi… Shivam’s brother. She had not known until now, but it suddenly made sense—the easy familiarity between them, the way Rishi handled everything so seamlessly.

“Good,” Shivam replied simply, his gaze still locked on Isha, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Before Isha could gather her thoughts, another voice floated across the room. Firm, warm, and belonging to someone unexpected.

“Bring the vermilion, Kaki” the voice instructed.

Isha turned toward it, surprised. It was their neighbor—her uncle, not bound by blood, yet bound to their family with ties stronger than kinship. A man who had done so much without expecting anything in return.

Dadi’s frail smile deepened.

“I do not have the strength anymore to arrange grand ceremonies,”

she admitted softly.

“But love does not need grandeur. It needs only the heart. Let this vermilion seal their bond. Shivam beta… place it on her forehead, and I will need nothing more to leave this world peacefully.”

Isha’s POV

My eyes widened. The air seemed to still around me. Was this truly happening?

Shivam moved forward, each step deliberate, each movement carrying the weight of something sacred. He took the vermilion in his hand, the crimson powder gleaming like fire against his skin.

And then, as if time itself had slowed, he walked toward me.

There were no relatives crowding us, no music, no rituals. Only five people bore witness: Dadi, Uncle, Rishi, Shivam… and me. My breath grew uneven, my palms damp. I tried to steady myself, but my body betrayed me.

He stopped in front of me. For a moment, he simply looked at me, and in that gaze I felt something terrifying yet divine. Not dominance, not possession—something far more consuming. Reverence.

He was not merely about to marry me. He was about to worship me.

My heart pounded wildly as he lifted the vermilion toward me. I had no bridal attire, no jewelry adorning me. My face was bare, my hair unstyled. Yet somehow, I felt… beautiful. His eyes made me so. The way he looked at me, as though I was the most precious thing he had ever touched, turned my simple presence into something luminous.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, afraid my tears would betray the chaos within me.

“Are you sure?” his voice came low, trembling at the edges though his words were steady. “Are you certain, Isha? May I place this vermilion upon you?”

I could not speak. My throat locked. Instead, I nodded, barely perceptible, but enough.

And in that instant, he did it.

The vermilion touched my hairline, falling softly across my forehead, brushing down toward the bridge of my nose. That single stroke transformed me—no longer just Isha, but a bride. His bride.

My breath caught. The crimson line glowed like a firebrand, burning into my very soul. And in that silence, I knew—we had just vowed ourselves to seven lifetimes together.

I opened my eyes, meeting his once more. His gaze held mine with unshakable intensity, and the world seemed to shift. This… this was the first page of our story.

Shivam’s POV

Isha.

Not just a girl anymore.

Not just a fleeting presence that had entered my life and turned it upside down.

Now—she was my wife.

My pride.

Mrs. Isha Shivam Banerjee.

The thought itself sent a rush of warmth through me. I had never known what it felt like to belong to someone so completely and to have them belong to you in return. But now, looking at her, standing there with her delicate frame trembling under the weight of everything that had just unfolded, I realized—she was mine, and I was hers.

Turning toward Rishi, I called out firmly, “Rishi, bring the file here.”

Without a word, my younger brother handed me the papers. The official registration documents—the reality that would bind our lives together not just by vermilion, not just by tradition, but by law.

I carried the file over to Dadi. My heart softened instantly as I saw her frail hands trembling, her eyes clouded with age, and yet her spirit unbroken.

“Beta,” she whispered, her voice hoarse yet tender,

“I cannot see properly anymore. My eyes have given up on me. But you both… you sign. Make it real. But wait—” she called out suddenly, her tone shifting with authority.

“Ram!”

Her voice summoned , the uncle in whose home we had gathered for this quiet yet monumental moment.

“Yes, Kaki,” Ram responded almost instantly, already carrying a small box in his hands. “I brought everything you asked for.”

He placed it gently into Dadi’s lap.

I glanced at Isha then. She still stood silently, her expression half lost, half dazed. Everything was moving so quickly for her. I could sense her mind trying to grasp the speed of these moments, her heart struggling to keep pace.

I extended my hand toward her.

“Isha,” I said softly, “come here.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t protest. Wordlessly, she placed her hand in mine. The instant her palm touched mine, something inside me steadied. It was as though her silence spoke volumes—her trust, her surrender to the unknown, her quiet acceptance of what fate had written for us both.

Hand in hand, I led her toward Dadi.

The box was opened, revealing ornaments that gleamed softly in the dim light. My heart swelled as Dadi picked up a golden chain and placed it gently around my neck. The weight of it was not mere gold—it was responsibility, a symbol of a new beginning.

Then, with trembling fingers, she lifted jewelry for Isha. Piece by piece, she adorned her as though she were preparing her for a sacred throne. My breath caught as Isha transformed before my eyes—not into some dazzling bride dressed in silks and glittering stones, but into something far more radiant. Her bare face, her simple beauty, and the new ornaments together created an image I knew I would never forget. She looked… complete. She looked mine.

Dadi’s voice broke the silence again.

“Isha, put this ring on Shivam.”

A simple ring lay inside the box. I extended my hand toward her, our eyes locking in that suspended second. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the ring, sliding it onto my ring finger. The touch lingered, gentle yet powerful, as if sealing a vow unspoken between us.

My chest tightened with emotion. In that single gesture, she had claimed me as much as I had claimed her.

Dadi exhaled shakily.

“Now… now I can leave this world in peace.”

Her eyes glistened, tears rolling down her cheeks with both sorrow and relief.

“Dadi…” Isha’s voice cracked, her own eyes wet. The tenderness between them pierced me, making my throat ache.

But Dadi, ever the strong one, wiped her tears away and forced a smile. “Why do you both stand there like statues? Isha, go—take blessings from your husband.”

Her words made Isha stiffen, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could speak, I said,

“Ladkiya laxmi hoti hai or ap hamare ghar ki laxmi. Laxmi pair nhi chute unke pair chuna chaiye unse ashirbad lena chahiye.”

I lowered my head, without hesitation, bending before Isha to take her blessings.

For a heartbeat, time stilled.

Isha gasped softly, her breath faltering as she watched me bow before her. I knew what she must have been feeling—that strange dissonance, the world turning upside down, where instead of her touching my feet, I had chosen to bow to her. But I meant every bit of it.

Because she was not just my wife.

She was my goddess.

My pride.

The heartbeat of my future.

And as I bent, humbling myself before her, I silently vowed—I would protect her, cherish her, and never let h

er regret the decision she made today.

                   ♡♡✿⁠ ⁠♡♡

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