Chapter 9: Prayers No One Heard

The Thakur mansion had transformed completely. Lights hung across the walls, flowers decorated every corner, and people moved around with excitement that never seemed to end. Everyone was busy, everyone was happy.

Except Poornima.

She stood near the window, watching everything silently, feeling like she didn’t belong to any of it.

“Poornima,” Lakshmi called softly.

She turned. “Yes, Ma?”

“Come here. From today, don’t go out unnecessarily. The marriage rituals have started.”

Poornima nodded. “Okay.”

“Today you’ll do Mata Gauri vrat,” Lakshmi said, guiding her toward the pooja room. “It’s very important.”

Poornima followed quietly and sat where Lakshmi asked her to.

Lakshmi began arranging everything carefully. “First, clean your hands.”

Poornima did.

“Now light the diya.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lit it.

“Offer flowers to Mata Gauri.”

She picked them up and placed them gently before the idol.

“Apply kumkum and turmeric,” Lakshmi continued. “Pray for a happy married life.”

Those words stayed in the air for a moment.

Heavy.

Poornima followed every step without missing anything.

“Now close your eyes and pray,” Lakshmi said gently.

Poornima closed her eyes.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

Then softly, almost like a whisper, “Ma… I don’t want this marriage.”

Lakshmi looked at her, surprised. “Poornima…”

“Please stop this,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m not happy.”

Lakshmi sighed, placing her hand on Poornima’s head. “These things are not in our hands, beta.”

Poornima opened her eyes, pain clearly visible. “But Ma—”

“Finish the vrat,” Lakshmi said softly but firmly. “Everything will be fine.”

Poornima didn’t argue.

She turned back and completed the ritual step by step, offering water, circling the diya, folding her hands again.

But her prayer never changed.

Not for a happy marriage.

Only for a way out.

Days passed like that.

Preparations increased, guests started arriving, and the house never went quiet.

But every night, something remained the same.

A message would come.

Sometimes just one word. Sometimes nothing.

But she always understood.

Poornima would quietly go to the kitchen, prepare tea, sometimes maggi, clean everything, and go to his room without anyone noticing.

He would take the cup, sip it, and say, “Strong.”

She would nod.

Then he would lie down, resting his head on her lap.

Like always.

Her fingers would move gently through his hair, easing the weight he never spoke about.

“You didn’t sleep?” he asked one night.

“You didn’t either,” she replied softly.

He closed his eyes. “Too much noise.”

“I know,” she said.

That was enough.

No more words.

Just silence that felt safe.

Minutes passed, and he would fall asleep.

She would keep massaging slowly, even after he slept.

And then, without realizing, she would fall asleep too.

Those moments were the only ones where she felt calm.

Like she still had something that belonged to her.

The wedding cards were printed.

Names written clearly.

Dates fixed.

Permanent.

“Let’s go to the kuldevi mandir,” Raju said one morning.

Everyone agreed.

Poornima went along quietly.

At the temple, the priest guided them through the rituals. Offerings were made, prayers were chanted, everyone stood with folded hands.

“Pray for the couple’s happiness,” the priest said.

Poornima stood before the deity, her eyes slowly closing.

Around her, everyone prayed for blessings, for a good married life, for happiness.

But her prayer was different.

Please don’t let this marriage happen.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she stood there.

No anger.

No rebellion.

Just truth.

A quiet plea from her heart.

She opened her eyes slowly.

The diya flickered in front of her.

For a second, it felt like it understood.

But everything around her continued the same.

Nothing stopped.

Nothing changed.

And Poornima stood there, smiling faintly when someone looked at her, while inside, she kept praying for something no one else could see.