𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀 : 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞|𝟏𝟖+ (Series #01)

37

CHAPTER 37 :
❀A REWARD❀
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CW : Before you read this, make sure you've read the 'copyright' part of this book in detail! I do not intend to promote any religion or beliefs. It's only for the necessity of the character development and further plot. Read the warning mentioned in 'copyright' part !!!

There's also Miraya's and Raghav's account now. You can check it out in my following list of Instagram. And, follow them, engage on their reels and I might surprise you with another update!

For spoilers, check out the posts or reels !

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M I R A Y A ' S    P O V

I felt his fingers tighten around mine, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand. I opened my eyes slightly, stealing a glance at him. His expression was calm, his eyes closed in deep concentration, his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation. The way he sat so still, so focused.

Oh! Mr. Singhania. I'm falling for you.

And, this time, I'm not regretting it .

This moment is ours, a promise in front of the gods and our family, solidifying the bond we had started to build.

I promise to always take care of you, Mr. Singhania.

The Panditji gestured for Raghav and me to stand, and as we stood together, the soft tinkling of my anklets made the elegant sound. We sat again after another ritual. The next part of the ceremony involved the offering of rice grains to symbolize the nourishment and blessings for our future.

Kavya Maa handed me a small brass plate filled with rice, each grain representing a wish for prosperity and abundance. As I scattered the grains over the altar, the Panditji's chants grew louder, as if pulling the energy of the universe into this room. Raghav followed doing the same.

"Now, offer the rice to each other," the Panditji instructed.

I turned toward Raghav, our eyes colliding to meet the others, before he took a small handful of rice from the plate and offered it to me. His brown eyes had the shine of something pure, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gently placed the grains in my hands.

"This is for us," he whispered.

I mirrored his actions, offering him the rice in return. It wasn't just a ritual to me now, it's the blinded trust I'm giving it to him. It's to the heart that only fastens it's beating when he's around me. It's more than just a marriage of convenience. And, I know, we are going to have a lifetime to fall for each other.

After the rice offering, the Panditji motioned toward the fire that had been lit in the small havan kund at the center of the altar. The flames swayed, crackling softly as the ghee was added, creating a smoky fragrance that filled the room. The Panditji handed us both a small wooden stick dipped in oil, and instructed us to offer it to the fire together.

"This fire represents the sacred flame of your union," he said, "As long as this flame burns, so too will the strength of your marriage, your bond, and your love."

We moved in unison, Raghav's hand guiding mine as we placed the stick into the fire. The flames licked at the wood, turning it to ash in seconds.

"May your union be blessed with strength, love, and happiness," the Panditji continued, lifting his hands toward the gods. "May your home be filled with joy and prosperity, and may you always find peace in each other."