The palace shimmered in golden hues, adorned with marigolds, roses, and flickering diyas. Poornima, dressed in a stunning red bridal lehenga, stepped forward, her face veiled in delicate fabric. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear of the rituals, but from the whirlwind of emotions she could not yet name.

She walked gracefully to Veeresh, who was waiting patiently, his eyes dark and commanding even in the soft light of the ceremonial hall. Poornima sat beside him, feeling the weight of the moment settle over them.

The priest’s voice resonated, chanting sacred mantras as the Gathbandhan tied them together. Their hands were gently bound with the ceremonial cloth, symbolizing the sacred union.

The seven pheras followed, each step around the holy fire marking vows and promises—some whispered aloud, others spoken silently through the eyes. Poornima’s pulse raced with every step, and though she refused to admit it, the closeness to Veeresh was intoxicating,he tied mangalsutra around her neck.

At the final ritual, Veeresh’s mother, Sharada, lifted Poornima’s veil with reverence and warmth. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Veeresh leaned forward, his hand steady, and smeared sindur on Poornima’s hairline—a mark that symbolized her status as his bride.

The priest’s voice rang out clearly, “It is complete. The wedding is now solemnized. The bride and groom are united forever.”

Poornima’s hands clutched her lehenga, heart pounding. She looked at Veeresh, whose eyes were fixed on her with intensity, unwavering, almost daring her to acknowledge the storm of emotions between them.

Though she had denied her feelings, and he his, the rituals had bound them together—not just in tradition, but in destiny.

And in that sacred moment, amidst chants, flames, and blessings, the first real threads of their journey from enemies to something more had been irrevocably woven.