The Silent Vows

The wedding was simple — far from the grand, extravagant mafia unions that shook the underworld.

This was different. Quiet. Closed. Measured.

Just the way Veeresh Rathore wanted it.

And just the way Poornima Singh could handle it.

---

Rathore Mansion – Courtyard

The red evening sky looked down on the gathering of powerful shadows. Men in black stood with alert eyes. Silence was sacred here.

In the centre, a simple mandap stood — saffron and white cloth fluttering, agarbatti smoke rising like prayers between two broken souls.

Poornima sat still, draped in a simple red lehenga, her eyes downcast beneath the weight of a long veil.

Her hands, adorned with minimal mehendi, carried the faintest trembling as she played with her red bangles.

No gold chains. No diamond glare.

Only the kind of dignity a broken heart wears when it's learning how to hope again.

On the other side of the fire, Veeresh Rathore arrived in a traditional ivory sherwani, his face hidden under a gold sehra.

Cold. Calm. Controlled.

A man whose heart had died long ago… but whose soul still hadn’t refused this one ritual.

---

The priest began the ceremony, mantras echoing softly between them.

Without a word, Veeresh slid the ring onto her finger.

Her hand didn’t hesitate. She slid his ring gently, her eyes still lowered, lips closed, but her heart whispering prayers only the fire could hear.

Zain Singh walked over, his eyes strangely soft. For the first time in years, he wasn’t speaking like a don… but like a father.

> “She’s all yours now,” he said, placing Poornima’s hand into Veeresh’s for the kanyadaan.

She didn’t resist.

Veeresh’s hand was warm — firm, not comforting. But it didn’t let go.

And something in her chest… trusted that grip.

---

The mangalsutra was black and gold — simple, pure.

He tied it around her neck without a word.

The sindur came next. Veeresh leaned slightly forward and smeared it across the parting of her hair.

Red. Powerful. Permanent.

Her heart beat louder. But not out of fear.

Out of a strange peace.

> “I will be loyal,” she promised silently.

“I will be loving. I will accept this path you walk. And I will walk with you.”

And when the seven rounds began, the fire watched her lips stay closed…

…but her heart vowed through every single step.

> One for love.

One for trust.

One for courage.

One for pain.

One for healing.

One for future.

And one… for forever.

By the time they sat down again, two souls were joined not by love — but by choice.

The silence between them wasn’t cold.

It was sacred.