Krisha’s POV

The first thing Krisha noticed when she looked into the mirror that morning was the colour.

Deep red.

Not the soft peach saree she and Lakshita had chosen the previous night after almost an hour of changing their minds, rejecting colours, checking photographs, and finally deciding that something simple would be perfect. This saree was nothing like that. It was richer, heavier, more traditional, and far more bridal than anything Krisha had imagined wearing for a wedding that was supposed to be quiet and private.

It was a deep wine-red silk, almost crimson under the bedroom lights, covered with intricate golden embroidery along the borders and delicate motifs scattered across the fabric. The pallu was heavier than the rest of the saree, embroidered so densely that it fell over her shoulder with a graceful weight. There was no excessive jewellery, no elaborate bridal makeup, no army of beauticians moving around the room. Just the saree, a few pieces of gold jewellery, soft makeup, and the small red bindi Meera had insisted she wear.

It should have made her feel beautiful.

Instead, it made everything feel more real.

Krisha slowly touched the edge of her pallu, her fingers trembling slightly.

Today she was getting married.

Not someday.

Not after months of engagement, shopping, meetings, family functions and endless conversations.

Today.

To a man she had never met.

She swallowed and looked at herself again.

Her hair had been left open at the front and softly pinned at the back, with a few loose strands framing her face. Small golden earrings rested against her ears, while the necklace around her neck was simple compared to the grandeur of the saree. Her wrists were covered with thin red and gold bangles.

She looked like a bride.

That was the problem.

Because somewhere inside, she still felt like the same twenty-four-year-old girl who had been sitting beside her father two nights ago, trying to understand how her life had suddenly taken such a sharp turn.

Behind her, Lakshita was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Krisha with an expression that had slowly changed from amusement to disbelief.

“Okay,” she finally said.

Krisha turned. “What?”

Lakshita stood up and walked toward her. “First of all, you look beautiful. Second of all, mujhe abhi bhi yakeen nahi ho raha ki today my baby is getting married ."

Krisha gave a nervous smile. “Mujhe bhi nahi ho raha.”

Suddenly lakshita started sobbing .

“Lakshu! WHAT HAPPENED ? WHY ARE YOU CRYING????" Krisha asked .

Lakshita looked up and wipe her tears and said

“What? Practice kar rahi hoon.”

Krisha laughed despite herself " Pagal aurat " but the nervousness returned almost immediately.

Lakshita noticed.

She always did.

Her expression softened as she reached out and held Krisha’s hands. “Hey.”

Krisha looked at her.

“Dar lag raha hai?”

Krisha nodded.

“Obviously lagega,” Lakshita said quietly. “Tu ek stranger se shaadi kar rahi hai. Normal situation thodi hai.”

Krisha looked down at their joined hands. “What if he doesn't like me?”

Lakshita sighed. “Krisha, hum ye discussion already kar chuke hain.”

“I know.”

“Then listen to me this time. You are not going there for an interview. Tum koi candidate nahi ho jisko Rudransh Rathore approve ya reject karega.”

Krisha remained quiet.

Lakshita squeezed her hands. “Aur agar usse tum pasand nahi aayi na, toh uski problem hai. Tumhari nahi. and secondly baby tu kbse in faltu ki chizon ki tension lene lgi ? You already know you are pathakha ek dum mast wala ."

A tiny smile appeared on Krisha's lips.

“Better?”

“A little.”

“Good. Ab smile karo. Bride ho. Aise face banaogi toh pandit ji bhi sochega kisi ko kidnap karke laaye hain. Vo bechare bhi dar jaenge sochenge shyd gun point pes shadi ho rhi hai "

Krisha laughed.

For a few seconds, the fear disappeared.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Meera entered quietly.

Her eyes immediately became moist when she saw her daughter dressed as a bride.

“Krisha…”

Krisha smiled at her mother.

Meera came forward and touched her cheek. “Meri beti.”

That was enough.

Krisha's eyes filled instantly.

“Mumma…”

Meera pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly for several seconds before whispering, “Khush rehna.”

Krisha closed her eyes.

She wanted to tell her mother that she was scared. She wanted to tell her that she did not know what waited for her at the Rathore mansion. She wanted to ask whether marrying someone she had never met was the right thing to do.

But she knew there were no answers left.

The decision had already been made.

And now she had to walk toward it.

---

The temple was smaller than Krisha had expected.

There were no decorated gates, no rows of flowers, no photographers, no relatives filling the courtyard, and no loud music announcing a wedding.

Just an old temple surrounded by greenery, with a few marigold garlands hanging near the entrance and the soft sound of temple bells drifting through the morning air.

Krisha stepped out of the car with Lakshita beside her.

Her heart immediately began beating faster.

A second car was parked ahead.

Then another.

Lakshita looked toward the vehicles and then at Krisha.

“Okay.”

Krisha frowned. “What?”

Lakshita stared toward the temple entrance.

“Behen…”

“What?”

“ye kya bolte hain…”

She paused dramatically.

“Ghar hai ya men hostel?”

Krisha blinked.

Lakshita pointed toward the group of men standing near the temple.

“Itne saare baap re! Saare admi hai bhai .Tu men hostel mei shift hone lgi hai i guess "

Krisha almost laughed despite her nerves.

The Rathore brothers were standing together.

And suddenly Krisha understood why Lakshita had reacted that way.

There were five of them.

Five tall men dressed in dark, formal traditional clothes, all carrying the same unmistakable Rathore intensity despite looking completely different from one another.

At the centre stood Rudransh.

Krisha had never seen him before in real life .Just a pic

Yet the moment her eyes landed on him, she knew.

There was no need for anyone to introduce him.

He stood slightly apart from the others, dressed in an ivory sherwani with subtle gold detailing. His expression was completely controlled, his posture straight, his dark eyes unreadable from this distance.

He looked exactly like the kind of man people would instinctively move aside for.

Beside him stood Ranvijay, equally composed, dressed in a black bandhgala. His attention was moving constantly around the temple premises, quietly observing everything.

Veerraj stood next to him, looking comparatively relaxed in a cream sherwani. His expression carried the faintest hint of amusement, but his eyes were observant.

Yuvraaj stood with his arms crossed, his face hard and visibly displeased.

And Abeer—

Abeer looked like he was already regretting being dragged out of bed so early.

Lakshita leaned closer to Krisha.

“Bhen, dekh.”

Krisha whispered, “Kya?”

“Kaise sab ghoor rahe hain.”

Krisha's eyes widened.

She suddenly became conscious of everything—the saree, her jewellery, her hands, even the way she was standing.

“Sab mujhe hi dekh rahe hain?”

“Obviously!” Lakshita whispered. “Tum dulhan hooo"

Then Abeer noticed them.

His eyes widened slightly.

He nudged Veerraj.

Veer looked toward the entrance.

Then Ranvijay turned.

Yuvraaj's expression became even more unreadable.

And finally Rudransh looked up.

For the first time, his eyes met hers.

Krisha stopped walking.

The world seemed to become strangely quiet around her.

She had imagined this moment several times the previous night.

She had imagined him looking angry.

She had imagined him looking indifferent.

She had even imagined him walking away.

She had not imagined this.

Rudransh simply stared at her.

His eyes moved over her face, the red saree, the jewellery, the flowers tucked into her hair, and then returned to her eyes.

There was no smile.

No surprise that he allowed anyone to see.

Nothing.

Yet Krisha could not look away.

Lakshita quietly whispered beside her, “Okay…”

Krisha barely heard her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Lakshita glanced at Rudransh once more.

“Bas… husband material kaafi intimidating hai.”

Krisha's cheeks warmed.

“Lakshu!”

“What Main observation de rahi hoon. Just look at him .Asaa lag rha hai wattpad se koi fictional character bahr aa gya ho"

Before Krisha could reply, Mahendra Rathore stepped forward.

His expression was calmer than everyone else's.

“Krisha.”

She immediately lowered her gaze respectfully. “Namaste.”

Mahendra gave her a small nod.

“Come.”

Krisha moved forward.

Lakshita followed, but before she could take another step, Yuvraaj looked directly at her.

Lakshita stopped.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

Neither said anything.

Lakshita slowly leaned toward Krisha.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Ye wala definitely mujhe pasand nahi karta.”

Krisha whispered back, “ Kuch bhi ? Tumne kab usse baat ki ? "

“Uske face pe likha hai.”

A few feet away, Veerraj heard them and almost smiled.

Abeer definitely heard them.

He looked at Yuvraaj and then at Lakshita, clearly entertained.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

Yuvraaj gave him a warning look.

Abeer immediately looked away.

The family entered the temple.

---

The ceremony was simple.

Exactly as Mahendra had promised.

No crowd.

No unnecessary rituals.

No elaborate decoration.

Only the priest, the immediate families, and a handful of trusted people managing the arrangements.

Krisha sat beside Rudransh before the sacred fire, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

She could feel his presence beside her without looking at him.

He was close.

Far too close for a man who had been a stranger to her only minutes ago.

The priest began chanting the mantras.

Krisha tried to concentrate.

Her parents sat behind her.

Meera's eyes were already wet.

Devendra looked tense but relieved, as though seeing his daughter seated safely beside Rudransh was enough to quiet some of the fear he had carried for days.

Across from them sat the Rathore brothers.

Ranvijay remained serious.

Veerraj watched the ceremony quietly.

Yuvraaj looked like he wanted it to end as quickly as possible.

Abeer was trying very hard not to look bored.

Mahendra sat silently, his eyes occasionally moving between Rudransh and Krisha.

The priest handed Rudransh the mangalsutra.

Krisha's breathing stopped for a moment.

She lowered her head.

Rudransh lifted his hand.

His fingers were steady.

He placed the mangalsutra around her neck.

The black and gold beads rested against her skin.

Something about the moment made her chest tighten.

This was real.

The priest then gave Rudransh the vermilion.

Krisha closed her eyes.

She felt his fingers near her forehead.

A moment later, the red sindoor marked the parting of her hair.

The priest smiled.

“Ab saat pheron ke liye tayar ho jayie"

Krisha stood.

Rudransh rose beside her.

The sacred fire burned between them.

As they began walking around it, Krisha's mind became strangely quiet.

One step.

Then another.

She could hear the priest's voice, the crackling of the fire, the faint temple bells outside.

But most of all, she was aware of the man walking beside her.

Rudransh did not look at her.

Not once.

Yet when her saree caught slightly near her foot during the fourth round, his hand moved instinctively toward her elbow.

He steadied her.

Only for a second.

Then he released her.

Krisha looked at him.

He continued walking as though nothing had happened.

She turned her gaze back toward the fire.

The seventh round ended.

The priest blessed them.

“Vivah sampann hua.”

Krisha slowly sat down.

Her hands were trembling.

She looked toward her parents.

Meera was crying now.

Devendra smiled through his own emotion.

Krisha's eyes filled.

She had imagined leaving her parents one day.

Everyone did.

But she had never imagined leaving them like this.

Without knowing exactly where she was going.

Without knowing what her new life would look like.

Without knowing the man who was now her husband.

Rudransh stood beside her.

Mahendra approached.

“Krisha.”

She looked up.

“From today, we are also your family.”

Krisha nodded.

She didn't know whether she was ready for that.

But she nodded anyway.

Lakshita came toward her immediately, eyes suspiciously wet.

“Bas,” she whispered, pulling Krisha into a hug. “Ab ro mat. Makeup kharab ho jayega. Abhi tal toh photos bhi ni li hmne "

Krisha laughed through her tears.

“You're impossible.”

“Obviously. Teri hi dost hu "

Lakshita pulled away and looked at Rudransh.

For a second, her expression became serious.

She stepped closer to Krisha and whispered, “Take care of yourself. Aur agr kisi ns bhi tuje kuch kaha toh chaku utha ke maar ke muje call kr dena .Body chupane mei madad kr dungi "

Krisha laughed ." Oh god lakshiii "

Then Lakshita looked at Rudransh again.

Rudransh's eyes met hers.

There was a silent warning in his gaze.

Lakshita raised one eyebrow.

Then, without fear, she said quietly, “She's important to me. I don't know you so i am not going to pass any judgements but remember one thing agr meri krisha ko kuch bhi hua , itna sa bhi dukh hua , tumhark body bhi ni milegi tumhari family ko"

Krisha listened to her and her eyes widened , She looked here and there ti see if her parents or mahendra heard it .Thank god nobody heard that . " lakshuu ehat are you doing ?" CHUP HA JA"

"kya chup ho ja ? Maine kuch galat ni bola "

Rudransh didn't answer.

He simply looked at her.

Lakshita nodded once, as if she had received the answer she needed.

“Good.”

She turned back to Krisha.

“Call me.”

“I will.”

“Every day.”

“I will.”

“And if anyone troubles you—”

“Lakshu.”

“I'm serious.”

Krisha smiled.

“I know. But dont you know me ? I can handle it "

Lakshita rolled herr eyes " ofcourse baby only i know you the best .In logon ne abhi tera asli roop dekha kaha hai .Ek baar dekh lenge toh pange ni lenge "

Krisha narrowed here eyes but still laughed

The moment came that Krisha had been dreading.

She turned toward her parents.

Meera hugged her first.

This time, neither of them tried to hide their tears.

“Khush rehna, beta.”

Krisha nodded against her mother's shoulder.

Then she turned toward Devendra.

Papa opened his arms.

Krisha broke.

She hugged him tightly, her face pressed against his chest just like she had done countless times as a child.

“Papa…”

“Bas, beta,” he whispered. “Rona nahi.”

“I'll miss you.”

“I know.”

His voice trembled.

“Apna khayal rakhna.”

Krisha nodded.

“I will.”

When she finally stepped away from him, her eyes found Rudransh.

He was waiting.

Not impatiently.

Not warmly either.

Just waiting.

Krisha took a breath.

Then she walked toward him.

The man she had met only moments ago.

The man who was now her husband.

Rudransh opened the car door.

Krisha hesitated before getting inside.

She looked back one last time.

Her parents.

Lakshita.

The temple.

The life she had known until yesterday.

Then she entered the car.

Rudransh walked around and got in beside her.

The door closed.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

The car began moving.

Krisha stared out of the window, watching the temple slowly disappear behind them.

She touched the mangalsutra resting against her chest.

Then, almost unconsciously, her fingers moved toward the red sindoor in her hair.

Her eyes lowered.

She was Mrs. Rudransh Rathore now.