ONGOING + EDITING
[I edit in between chapters according to priority, not in any sequence. That's why, some chapters will be good and some will lack the rhythm.]
♡
𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐈 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋
Bow to the queen before speaking ~
A beauty with brains a...
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“Ardhangini, will you give me the honour, this absolute privilege to marry you? To be able to stand by you as your equal or below, to be worthy of your name attached with mine, to spend my remaining life and the forever with you as your devoted husband—Mr. Ruvit Aridhi Rathore, will you, please, become my eternal devotion? Will you please make me yours, officially and spiritually?”
....
After having breakfast, it was time to take blessings from God.
As we entered inside the small temple room beside the lavish kitchen, the world outside seemed to dissolve.
Thick with the scent of burning dhoop, fresh jasmine and rose petals, the earthy aroma of sandalwood paste filled the air.
The temple room was serene, and all the preparations for the prayer were already done.
It was a sanctuary of gold and white. In the center, the idols of the deities stood atop a tiered marble altar, their brass forms polished to a mirror-like shine.
The statue of Laxmi Maa was draped in a vibrant red saree, her hands raised in a blessing that felt like it was meant specifically for the woman standing beside me.
My own Laxmi. My Ardhangini.
Beside her, the idol of Vishnu Narayan stood in serene composure, draped in a yellow pitambar, watching over us with obsidian eyes.
To the side, a small wooden shelf held the sacred texts. The Bhagvad Gita was covered in saffron cloth, worn at the edges from years of devotion and prayers.
A brown diya flickered steadily, its golden flame reflected in the polished silver plates filled with offerings of mishri and crushed rose petals.
“Come here, Ruvit.” Aarti aunty whispered, her voice thick with a soulful emotion.
I stepped forward, bowing my head a little. She dipped her ring finger into a small silver bowl filled with red paste.
As she was about to press the tilak onto my forehead, I stopped her. “Mummy ji, Aridhi first.”
My eyes slid to Aridhi beside me, passing her a cheeky grin. Her smile widened.
“Arey beta, riti riwaj ke anusar pehle ladke ko tilak lagaya jata hain.” Grandma spoke from somewhere behind us. Well, I had expected it.
[ Son, according to tradition, the tilak is applied to the man first. ]
I didn’t bother to look back. I kept my gaze on Aridhi when I replied. “I chose to not believe in such traditions who value me over my wife.”
“But—” Grandma wanted to cut me off but I didn’t let her. My tone was now more steady and firm, like in that temple, I was taking a vow.
“I will always prioritise her over anyone, everyone. In everything, she comes first. Traditions be damned.”
