#1 of the love series. He rose slowly, still holding her hands. She stepped closer. Closer. So close that the boat rocked faintly beneath them. Then, standing on her toes slightly, she reached up and held his shoulders to steady herself. He instinctively moved his hands to her waist so she wouldn't lose balance. The anklets chimed softly and then.. she bent her head forward.. slowly. Her forehead touched his. The red kumkum on her forehead brushed against his skin, leaving a faint, sacred mark just above his brows. He froze. Neither of them moved. Her eyes were closed and his breath stopped.. the contact was simple. Sacred. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but steady. "If you are my light," she murmured, her forehead still resting against his, "then let me mark you as mine before the world does." She lowered herself slowly, but didn't move away. Her eyes searched his. "You don't need a ring to bind me," she said softly. "And I don't need a ceremony to know what you mean to me." Her fingers brushed the red mark she had left on him. "This," she smiled faintly, "is my answer. My acceptance." His fingers tightened unconsciously around her waist. "I am yours," she whispered. "And you are mine. Not for a moment. But for every day that comes after." And she slowly moved into his embrace and hugged him, holding him a little tighter than usual, like she never wanted to let go. They stayed there for a while longer, not speaking. Everything you're about to read is true... but I've never confessed to him in real life. The story ends with a plot twist my real life hasn't caught up to yet. This story is written mostly in English (about 98%), with some Telugu (about 2%) along with translations. -------- Happy reading 🩷

𝐙𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫 × 𝐃𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐯𝐢 | 𝟑𝟏 × 𝟐3 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬: #𝟏 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 She saw him more than once. And every time, her heart betrayed her; racing, stumbling, fluttering like a caged butterfly chasing a memory. Her breath shortened, her chest tightened, and still, she said nothing. Because it wasn't her place. Because she was never meant to be seen. Until she was. Until the day she stood before him, not as a stranger in the crowd, but as his bride. The wrong bride. He had seen her before. Once in passing, her eyes barely a flicker in his peripheral vision, dismissed for a prettier pair. The second time, he saw her through a vow sealed in blood and duty. And rage erupted. Exacting. Demanding. She wasn't supposed to wear that dress. She wasn't supposed to carry his name. But now that she does... There's no turning back.