The Rathore haveli stood tall under the moonlight, its sandstone walls glowing like molten gold. Fire torches flickered along the entrance, and the sound of shehnai still lingered faintly in the night air.

As the newlyweds arrived, the women of the household prepared to welcome the vadhu with full Rajputi traditions.

---

Poornima’s Welcome

The heavy ghoonghat still covered her face as she stepped onto the rangoli drawn at the threshold. A silver plate with kumkum and a lit lamp circled in front of her, and she gently kicked a pot filled with rice, letting it spill into the haveli—a symbol of prosperity entering the home.

Elder women sang mangal geet, blessing her for a long married life. Then she was led to the kuldevi temple inside the haveli, where she offered flowers and bowed her head in silent prayer.

But while everyone’s attention was on the bride, Veeresh had already slipped away.

---

Veeresh in His Room

The moment he entered his chamber, Veeresh removed the heavy turban and sherwani, tossing them on a chair. He changed into a simple black kurta, unbuttoned at the collar. His jaw was tense, his eyes unreadable. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the carved wooden balcony railing, looking out into the night.

For him, the rituals were over.

For her… they had just begun.

---

Poornima finished her pag pheras and blessings, her feet aching from standing for hours. At last, she was sent to Veeresh’s room. Her hands were still heavy with gold bangles, her lehenga trailing behind as she pushed the door open.

Veeresh didn’t turn around immediately. Only when the door clicked shut did he glance at her, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

She hesitated, then stepped forward.

“Veeresh… I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t move. “Go on.”

“I… I want to complete my education. I’m in my last semester. My exams are in two months. Please… I want to finish it.”

Veeresh’s eyes narrowed slightly. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and replied in a slow, measured tone,

“I’ll think about it.”

Her lips parted, ready to say more, but before she could, he stepped toward her in a sudden, decisive movement.

---

The Kiss

Without warning, Veeresh caught her wrist, pulling her closer until the scent of smoke and sandalwood surrounded her. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, and his lips claimed hers—deep, intense, possessive.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss.

It was a statement.

A mark.

Poornima froze, her mind struggling to process the heat of his mouth against hers. When he finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto hers with an unreadable intensity.

“We’re husband and wife now,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Don’t forget that.”

---

He stepped back, gesturing toward the wardrobe.

“Change your dress and sleep on the bed.”

Still stunned, Poornima nodded slightly. “Okay…”

She went to the changing room, slipping out of the heavy lehenga and into a simple red night saree given to her for the suhaag raat. Her hands trembled as she folded her bridal clothes neatly, her mind replaying the kiss over and over.

When she returned, Veeresh was already lying on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

She climbed in hesitantly, keeping to her side.

---

The Closeness

But Veeresh wasn’t a man who liked distance.

In one swift motion, he reached out, pulled her into his arms, and tucked her against his chest. His arm rested firmly around her waist, his breath warm against her hair.

“This is how you should sleep,” he murmured. “Close to me. Always.”

Poornima’s cheeks burned, but she gave a small nod.

“…Okay.”

His grip tightened slightly—not out of force, but as if he wanted to keep her from slipping away.

And under the heavy silence of the night, they lay together—two strangers bound by tradition, learning the weight of the word husband and wife in the Rathore way.