Rehan had never looked so quietly proud.

He didn’t make a big announcement, didn’t call the media, didn’t gather crowds—because he knew his daughter and he knew Veeresh.

They didn’t need noise.

They didn’t need grandeur.

They only needed each other.

---

The Morning of the Wedding

Veeresh arrived early at the Rathore house, carrying a set of carefully chosen items.

Not too flashy.

Not too simple.

Just perfect—because she deserved perfect.

He handed Poornima the neatly packed bag.

“Navy blue?” she teased softly, already knowing his preference.

His lips twitched. “It suits you. And I want to see you in this today.”

Her heart warmed—because his voice wasn’t commanding… it carried admiration.

She unwrapped everything slowly.

A rich navy-blue saree with delicate silver embroidery.

Matching bangles that chimed softly.

Minimal jewelry—elegant earrings, a thin chain, and a simple bracelet.

Small jasmine flowers to tuck into her hair.

A tiny bindi.

And the softest pair of sandals.

She smiled.

A real, glowing smile.

“Veer… this is beautiful,” she whispered.

He simply replied, “You’ll look beautiful. That’s enough.”

---

In the Temple

The mandap was fragrant with sandalwood and fresh marigolds.

The early morning sun filtered through the temple arches, casting golden patterns on the floor.

Veeresh arrived in a clean white kurta, his hair neatly combed, his stubble trimmed.

He looked peaceful for the first time in years—like he had found his purpose.

When Poornima walked in wearing the navy-blue saree he’d chosen, his breath stopped for a second.

She looked at him shyly.

He looked at her like she was his entire world.

They sat together in the mandap, the chants echoing softly around them.

No crowd.

No cameras.

Just divinity and their promises.

Agasthya and Rehan stood behind them, smiling.

The priest instructed them gently, step by step.

Poornima’s fingers trembled once—but Veeresh held her hand under the saree folds, steadying her without anyone noticing.

---

Garland Exchange

He held the garland as if it were something precious.

When she lifted hers, he leaned down slightly—not as a gesture of submission, but respect.

Their eyes met.

Something warm passed between them.

Something that didn’t need words.

They placed garlands on each other, petals brushing against their skin.

---

Mangalsutra

The priest handed Veeresh the black-bead chain.

His hands were strong… but they shook a little.

Not out of fear.

Out of emotion he wasn’t used to showing.

He gently moved her hair aside.

Poornima closed her eyes when the mangalsutra touched her neck—it felt like warmth, security, and destiny all at once.

He tied the knot firmly.

His wife.

From that moment.

---

Sindur

He picked the sindur with reverence.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She looked up.

Her eyes were shiny, but steady.

He filled her hairline with sindur, slow and sure, marking her as his with a reverence that made her breathe unevenly.

Her eyes lowered shyly.

---

The Ring

From his pocket, he took out a small velvet box.

“Poornima…” he murmured, his voice unexpectedly soft.

He slid the delicate ring on her finger.

Not grand.

Not heavy.

Just meaningful.

She slipped his ring onto his hand too, her fingers brushing his skin gently.

---

Their First Smile as Husband & Wife

They both looked at each other—

and the shyness melted into happiness.

Real, honest happiness.

Veeresh’s eyes softened like never before.

Poornima’s heart felt full.

In that quiet temple, with the sound of bells ringing softly in the background, they became each other’s forever—

not through luxury or show,

but through love that had survived hurt, distance, fear, and destiny.

A simple wedding.

A powerful promise.

And the beginning of their forever.