In the rustic villages of Rajasthan, where ancient customs weave the fabric of daily life, Taehyung's story unfolds-a tale of courage, love, and the power to defy destiny.
At seventeen, she was thrust into an arranged marriage with Jungkook, a stric...
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The morning sun filtered softly through the intricately carved jharokhas of the Kim Haveli, casting warm golden hues across the floor. The thick stone walls carried a cooling silence, broken only by the distant clatter of utensils and a low murmur of voices from the kitchen. In her chamber, Tae stood before the tall mirror, adjusting the pleats of her deep purple saree, the silk catching light as she moved.
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Her hair, neatly parted and tied into a low bun adorned with a few mogra flowers, framed her serene face. The sindoor along her parting shone bright, a mark of her marital bond, while the faint bindi between her brows sat perfectly still - unlike the two little lives fluttering restlessly within her.
She placed a gentle palm on her rounded belly and whispered with a half-smile,
Tae- Will you both stop moving for a while? You've been fighting since the moment I woke up.
She chuckled to herself, feeling a gentle kick in response, as if her unborn child - or perhaps both - had something to say about that.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for her cotton satchel, neatly placing her pen and the stack of registers she had been reviewing late into the night.
Her role as the principal of Saraswati Vidyalye didn't pause for motherhood, and she welcomed the sense of purpose it brought.
Adjusting the pallu of her saree over her shoulder, she stepped out of the room, her anklets barely chiming beneath her steps as she made her way downstairs.
From the kitchen, a familiar voice called out,
Mrs Kim- Come, Lado. Have your breakfast before you leave.
Mrs Kim emerged carrying a brass plate with neatly arranged theplas, a small bowl of chutney, and a tumbler of warm milk.
Tae smiled fondly.
Tae- Maa, where's Hyunnie and Bapu-sa?
Mrs. Kim gave a helpless chuckle, wiping her flour-covered hands on the edge of her dupatta.
Mrs Kim- That boy vanished like the wind. I barely got his buttons done and he was out of the door, shouting something about his friends waiting. And your Bapu-sa? He chased after him with his shawl still hanging from one shoulder. Neither of them touched a morsel.
