Devil's Bride

The Mansion Awakens

The Raichand mansion, which had been bathed in silence after the grand wedding celebrations, suddenly resonated with a soft, melodious voice. Maya’s singing, pure and heartfelt, filled the air, carrying the essence of devotion and grace. She sat in the now-restored prayer room, her voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the hymn, each note a testament to her unwavering faith.

The room, once dull and forgotten, now glowed warmly with the soft light of oil lamps. The idols shone, garlanded with fresh flowers, and the incense sticks emitted a soothing fragrance. It was as though Maya’s voice had breathed life into the very walls of the mansion.

The first to stir was Priya, Ayaan’s brother’s wife. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed, mesmerized by the ethereal melody. Slowly, one by one, the household began to wake. Servants peeked out of their quarters, the guards outside turned their heads toward the sound, and even Ayaan’s bedridden mother shifted, as though the song had reached her heart.

“What is this?” Ayaan’s father grumbled, stepping out of his room, his stern expression softening ever so slightly as the music reached his ears.

The prayer room had been constructed by an architect generations ago to amplify sound, designed with perfect acoustics. The room’s architecture allowed Maya’s voice to echo throughout the mansion, the melody flowing through hallways, climbing staircases, and spreading warmth in every corner.

Ayaan, lying on his bed, was jolted awake by the voice. He sat up abruptly, his heart skipping a beat. It took him a moment to realize what had roused him, but when he did, his lips curved into a faint smile. “Maya,” he murmured under his breath.

Throwing on a robe over his sherwani, he followed the sound, his curiosity and admiration growing with each step.

By the time Ayaan reached the prayer room, almost everyone had gathered outside, standing silently, their eyes wide with awe. Even the usually indifferent guards lingered near the door, captivated.

Inside, Maya sat serenely in front of the idols, her hands folded, her bridal bangles catching the flickering light of the lamps. Her eyes were closed, her voice unwavering as she sang the final verse of the hymn. The room glowed with a divine aura, as though responding to her devotion.

When the song ended, there was a profound silence. The household stood rooted in place, moved by the sheer beauty of the moment.

Ayaan stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Maya. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so... humbled. For a man who commanded empires and feared no one, this was new. Maya, with her simple faith and pure heart, had managed to awaken something he hadn’t realized was dormant within him.

“Maya,” he called softly, breaking the silence.

She turned, startled to see him there. Her cheeks flushed, but she quickly composed herself. “Ayaan... I—”

He didn’t let her finish. Closing the distance between them, he took her hands gently, his gaze locking onto hers. “You’ve lit up this house,” he said, his voice low and filled with awe. “And not just the prayer room. The entire mansion, Maya. Including me.”

She lowered her eyes, her heart racing at the intensity in his tone.

Behind them, Priya whispered to her husband, “She’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Even Ayaan’s father, though reluctant to show emotion, couldn’t hide his softened expression. “She’s something special,” he muttered, turning away.

The servants began to murmur among themselves, their respect for Maya growing tenfold. It was clear to everyone that Maya wasn’t just Ayaan’s bride—she was the heart this house had been missing for years.