The haveli was alive with colours, fragrance, and the soft clinking of bangles. Teej had arrived, and Poornima was a vision straight out of a Rajput royal portrait.

She wore the crimson saree her mother-in-law had gifted her, draped in the traditional Rajput style. Her hair was tied in a long braid adorned with fresh jasmine. A matha-patti rested on her forehead, her wrists were heavy with glass and gold bangles, and her anklets chimed softly as she walked. The bridal veil covered her head, and the subtle scent of rose attar lingered around her.

Since dawn, she had been fasting—no water, no food—her devotion shining in her quiet patience. Veeresh had watched her in silence throughout the day, an unfamiliar pride swelling in him.

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Evening Puja

As the sun dipped, the courtyard filled with the glow of diyas. The women gathered, singing folk songs, swaying gently as they performed the Teej rituals. Poornima, hands folded, prayed for her husband’s long life, her lashes lowered, unaware that Veeresh’s gaze never left her.

After the puja, the moment came for the fast to be broken. Following tradition, Veeresh himself brought her a silver glass of water and a small sweet. She looked up at him shyly from beneath her veil.

“Drink,” he said softly, almost commandingly, holding the glass to her lips.

The cool water touched her tongue, and she closed her eyes in relief. He fed her the sweet, his fingers brushing her lips ever so slightly, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

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When the rituals ended and the courtyard emptied, Veeresh caught her wrist as she tried to pass him. His eyes darkened, that familiar mix of possession and desire.

He bent slightly, his lips brushing her ear. “Today… you’ve been mine in every tradition, in every vow,” he murmured. “Tonight… will be very heavy… for you and for me.”

Her heart stuttered at his tone. The meaning in his words was clear. Her hands tightened on the edge of her saree, her cheeks flushed, and for a second she dared not meet his gaze.

He lifted her chin with two fingers, his eyes searching hers. And then, in one swift move, he kissed her—deeply, passionately, making her knees weak.

Pulling back just enough to breathe, he whispered against her lips, “Come to our room. Don’t make me wait.”