Yaara

14) Echoes of a Sacred Bond

The night was quiet, but Shiv's mind was anything but still. As he lay on the bed, his thoughts drifted back to Mahima—the woman who had once been his anchor, his greatest joy, and his deepest sorrow. The memory of their wedding felt like a dream now, a moment both cherished and painful.

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Flashback: Two Years Ago

It had been a cloudy evening, with the scent of rain lingering in the air as Shiv and Mahima stood before the small temple. The flickering oil lamps cast a golden glow on the ancient stone walls, illuminating the sacred idol of Lord Shiva. It was a simple ceremony, devoid of grandeur, yet filled with the warmth of love and promises whispered in the silence. The priest, an old man with kind eyes, chanted the sacred mantras, his voice blending with the rustling of the leaves as the wind picked up.

Shiv couldn't take his eyes off Mahima. She looked ethereal, draped in a soft red saree with minimal jewelry, her face glowing with quiet happiness. There was no heavy bridal makeup, no grand adornments, yet she looked more beautiful than any bride he had ever seen. As they sat before the sacred fire, performing the rituals, Shiv felt a deep sense of peace settling over him—something he hadn't felt in a long time.

But even in this moment of pure joy, there was a shadow lingering in his heart.

He turned his gaze briefly away from Mahima and looked toward the empty space next to him. Rudra should have been there, his best friend, his brother in every way that mattered. Shiv had always imagined his wedding day with Rudra standing beside him, teasing him, making jokes, and being part of the most important day of his life. Instead, Shiv was here alone with Mahima, the two of them embarking on a new journey without the person who had always been a constant in Shiv's life.

Shiv: quietly to himself "I wish Rudra was here."

He felt Mahima's gentle hand on his, her fingers squeezing his hand in silent support. She had always known him so well, understood the emotions he rarely spoke about. Her soft voice broke the silence between them, filled with love and understanding.

Mahima: reassuring "I know, Shiv. I wish he were here too. But someday, things will be different. He will understand why we had to do this alone."

Shiv looked into her eyes, filled with tenderness and strength. She had been his anchor through the hardest times, the one who kept him grounded when the weight of his choices felt too heavy to bear. In her, he found not just a partner, but a pillar of strength he never knew he needed.

The priest's voice echoed again, calling for them to rise for the pheras. As Shiv took Mahima's hand, leading her around the sacred fire, he made promises to her that he intended to keep for the rest of his life. But as the fire crackled and the flames danced between them, the ache of Rudra's absence became sharper. With each step around the fire, he felt a tug in his heart, a longing to see Rudra's face, to hear his laughter, to feel his support.

But that couldn't happen. Not yet. If he returned to Rudra's life now, it would only complicate things. Shiv knew that Rudra's world was full of expectations, responsibilities, and complexities that he couldn't be a part of—not in the way he once was. So, he had kept his distance, hoping that time would heal the rift that had formed between them.

When the ceremony was over, Shiv tied the mangalsutra around Mahima's neck and applied the sindoor to her forehead. Mahima's eyes shimmered with tears of happiness as she looked up at him, and for a moment, Shiv's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of love. This woman had given him everything, had stood by him when he had felt lost, and now, she was his wife.