YOU NEVER WALK ALONE

63-Evil Sarakshi

Edit- As you'll proceed to read, there are a few POV and dialogue that you'll not like or  not see it same but it's just a perspective of sarakshi, might have been portrayed too straight forward (sorry for that). So, writing this to let y'all know that the author didn't wanted to offended anyone and was not promoting any beleif. It was just a perspective, I'm not telling anyone to follow it!
I'm sorry if I in any way did something wrong. Let's maintain peace here, which I truly want to keep till the end of this book.🤍

Thank you for completing vote Target in the previous chapter🤍 hope the comment target gets completed too in this one.

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Next chapter spoiler at the end

Happy reading 💪🏻
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AUTHOR'S POV-

A FEW DAYS LATER-

It had already been a few days since their little escape-their date, the night wrapped in fairy lights and soft confessions, a night that changed something quietly but profoundly. A shift so gentle, neither of them noticed until after. But it was there. Unmistakable. Unshakable.

A new kind of comfort lingered in their silences now-unspoken, but felt deeply. No awkwardness. No second-guessing. Just two souls, still finding pieces of each other, yet already tangled in a bond too sacred to question.

There was no regret. No hesitation. No trying too hard.

It was just them-honest and raw. Two people who had seen heartbreak, disappointment, and life's cruel timing-but who now, unexpectedly, found solace in one another. Found love.

Madly, irrevocably, completely in love.

The kind of love that didn't demand grand declarations every day but settled softly into daily life-eyes that searched for each other in a crowd, fingers that brushed unintentionally but lingered, smiles shared across a room. A love that made even the mundane feel meaningful.

And the beautiful part?

They weren't running anymore.

Not from their past.
Not from each other.
Not even from the idea of forever.

It was the evening before Karwa Chauth-a sacred festival symbolizing unwavering love and devotion. A day when married women fast from sunrise to moonrise, praying for the longevity and good health of their husbands. The air was laced with anticipation and sacred energy, the kind that gently settles in households preparing for the rituals of faith and love.

For Sarakshi, this year marked her very first Karwa Chauth. And not just any fast-it was the nirjala vrat, without a single drop of water. A mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in her chest. She wanted to embrace every ritual, every tradition with all her heart, yet quietly she prayed for strength to make it through the day without feeling faint or exhausted.

The living room of Singh Mansion hummed with a comforting blend of warmth and gentle chaos. Though there was an unusual calmness in the air, it wasn't silent. The muffled laughter of children, occasional teasing among siblings, and distant clatter from the kitchen created a perfect familial background score.

Sarakshi sat cross-legged on the sofa, turned slightly to her left. In front of her sat Prachi, facing her directly, with a soft pillow balanced between their laps. Prachi was carefully applying mehndi on Sarakshi's right hand, her touch both delicate and confident, as if weaving stories through intricate swirls and vines.

Earlier, Sarakshi had already done her left hand herself. She had come across a beautiful design online and couldn't resist trying it immediately-impatience mixed with excitement made her take up the cone before Prachi had even arrived.