"Yuvraj, please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Don't do this."
"Get up," he ordered, his voice as cold as ice.
Tears streamed down my face. "Please, I'll do anything. Just don't make me-"
"Step on the glass," he interrupted, his eyes burning wit...
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The ceremony had been nothing short of a dream. As I stood next to Yuvraj, my heart swelled with joy and anticipation. The sacred fire crackled beside us, casting a warm, golden light that seemed to bless our union. The priest's chants echoed around us, creating a cocoon of sacredness and tradition. Every word, every ritual, every promise felt like a step towards a new beginning, a new life with the man I loved.
Yuvraj took a pinch of sindoor and carefully applied it to my forehead. As the red powder touched my skin, a shiver ran through me. It was a symbol of our union, a mark of our bond, and I felt a profound sense of belonging and pride. My eyes met Yuvraj's, and in that moment, I saw a world of possibilities, dreams, and promises. He smiled at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat.
Next, he picked up the mangalsutra. The black beads and gold pendant gleamed as he fastened it around my neck. I could feel the weight of it, both physically and symbolically. It was a promise of protection, love, and togetherness. As he adjusted it gently, his fingers brushed against my skin, sending a wave of warmth through me. This was it. I was finally Mrs. Aisha Yuvraj Sharma.
After the rituals were completed, we stood together to take blessings from our elders. Yuvraj's mother, with her warm smile and affectionate eyes, blessed us both with a long and happy married life. She hugged me tightly, whispering words of welcome and love in my ear. It felt genuine, and it filled my heart with warmth.
Next were my chacha and chachi. They had been my guardians, my guides, and my support system. Tears glistened in Chachi's eyes as she placed her hands on my head, blessing me with happiness and prosperity. Chacha, with his stern but loving demeanor, blessed us with a heartfelt hug. They were my family, and their happiness meant the world to me.
I glanced around and saw Yuvraj's father standing a bit away, his mistress—no, his whore—clinging to his arm. It was an awkward presence, a blemish on an otherwise perfect day. But I pushed the thought aside. Today was about Yuvraj and me. Nothing else mattered.
As we moved towards Yuvraj's father, I could see the discomfort in Yuvraj's eyes. His father's mistress gave me a polite, albeit insincere, smile. Yuvraj's father, maintaining a semblance of decorum, blessed us both without much emotion. I could sense the tension, but I chose to focus on the positives. I was marrying Yuvraj, and that was all that mattered.
After the blessings, Yuvraj and I stood together, accepting congratulations and well-wishes from friends and family. Every smile, every hug, every word of blessing added to my joy. I felt surrounded by love and support, and it made the day even more special.
Finally, as the evening drew to a close, Yuvraj and I found a moment to ourselves. He held my hand, looking deeply into my eyes. "Are you happy, Aisha?" he asked softly.
I smiled, feeling tears of joy welling up. "Yes, Yuvraj. I've never been happier."
He pulled me into a gentle embrace, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. This was my home now, in his arms, with his heart beating next to mine. Together, we would face whatever the future held, and I was ready for it all.
