The next morning dawned soft and golden. The mist still hung low around the hills as Veeresh and Poornima walked toward the Kuldevi Temple hand in hand. The temple stood tall and ancient, wrapped in marigold garlands, the air rich with incense and the steady rhythm of bells.

Veerendra’s words echoed in Veeresh’s mind — “Go together. Seek blessings. Start your new life as one.”

Poornima walked beside him in a simple red saree, her head covered modestly, a small smile playing on her lips. The morning sun caught on the sindur in her parting, making it gleam like fire.

The priest looked up as they entered, his eyes kind and knowing. “Ah, newlyweds,” he said with a blessing smile. “Come, beta, sit for the puja.”

They both folded their hands and bowed before the goddess. The priest chanted softly, then looked at Veeresh. “Beta, fill her maang with sindur. Let the goddess witness your bond.”

Poornima’s breath hitched slightly, her eyes falling shut as Veeresh took a pinch of vermilion. With steady fingers, he traced the red along her hairline — not as ritual, but as promise.

A promise of protection.

A promise of forever.

When he finished, the priest smiled and said, “Now sit for the puja, both of you.”

They knelt before the goddess, their hands folded, eyes closed. The chants grew stronger, the flames of the aarti dancing wildly — as if even the divine approved their union.

After the ceremony, they walked out and sat on the temple steps. The wind had turned warm; the temple bell swayed gently above them.

An old lady, draped in a white shawl, walked up slowly, her eyes deep and calm. She looked at Poornima with a faint smile.

“Show me your hand, beta.”

Poornima hesitated but extended her palm respectfully. The old lady traced the lines softly with her wrinkled fingers, then looked into her eyes.

“You will be blessed with three children very soon,” she said gently.

Poornima blinked, startled. Her eyes widened, and her gaze instinctively shifted to Veeresh, who looked just as surprised.

The lady turned to him next. “And you, Veeresh Singh… you will be a good king, a good father, and a good husband. Your love story will be blessed — not for one life, but for seven.”

Then she smiled faintly and began to walk away, her white shawl fluttering like mist.

Veeresh watched her go, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “At this age, she’s making predictions?” he murmured under his breath, trying to hide a small smile.

Poornima glanced at him, still processing the words. “Three babies?” she whispered softly, half in awe, half in confusion.

Before either could speak again — the temple bell rang loudly, echoing through the valley, sharp and divine.

The wind rose suddenly, carrying marigold petals around them.

Veeresh looked up at the swaying bell and then at Poornima — who was still lost in the sound, her eyes shining in the golden light.

And for the first time, Veeresh didn’t dismiss the prediction.

For the first time, he believed that maybe — just maybe — their love was indeed written in seven lives.