The grand hall was adorned with shimmering chandeliers, floral arrangements, and golden drapes, reflecting the extravagance of a wedding meant to unite two families rather than two hearts. The air buzzed with excitement, but for Navya and Siddharth, the moment felt heavier than the celebration surrounding them.

Navya sat in front of the mirror, her maroon lehenga draped elegantly around her. The golden embroidery shimmered under the soft glow of the lights, contrasting against her fair skin. A heavy neckpiece adorned her, its intricate vines clinging to her collarbone, while earrings dangled like morning dewdrops on fresh leaves. A delicate nose ring brushed against her lips, a symbol of the traditions binding her to this new life.

Her mother entered, her face a mix of joy and sorrow. Without a word, Navya rose and embraced her tightly. No conversation could truly capture the whirlwind of emotions they felt. Tears pricked Navya’s eyes, but her mother cupped her face gently, wiping them away.

"This phase comes in every girl's life, beta. It's a new beginning, and I want you to welcome it with a smile, not tears," her mother whispered, her voice laced with emotion. "No matter what happens, remember—you are never alone. We are always behind you."

Navya closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of her mother’s touch. The reality of leaving her family, her home, and stepping into a life with a stranger weighed heavily on her. But she had to be strong. For her family. For herself.

Just then, her cousin peeked in. "Navya, the guests have arrived."

Her mother composed herself, placing a final kiss on Navya's forehead before stepping away, leaving Navya to gather her courage.

Across the hall, in an equally grand room, Siddharth stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the brooch on his white sherwani. The pearls and emerald stone gleamed under the golden light, matching the regal air he carried naturally. A turban sat perfectly on his head, adding to his composed yet indifferent demeanor.

Yarav, his best friend, clapped him on the shoulder dramatically. "So, the great Siddharth Khurana is finally surrendering to the inevitable?" he teased, shaking his head with mock pity. "Poor man, sacrificing his freedom so young!"

Siddharth let out a sigh, removing his friend’s hand. "Your turn will come soon," he smirked.

"Not a chance," Yarav chuckled. "I’d rather stay single than be stuck in a commitment without love. Relationships aren’t for me."

Siddharth didn’t argue. He had already told Yarav everything—about the arrangement, the duty he was bound to fulfill. Love wasn’t part of the deal.

His mother’s words from earlier echoed in his mind. "Marriage isn’t just about love, Siddharth. It’s about stability, responsibility. Love can grow, but respect and understanding should come first."

Maybe she was right. Maybe love wasn’t necessary.

But as he prepared to step into a life with a woman he barely knew, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something vital was missing.

Navya descended the grand staircase with slow, measured steps, her maroon lehenga trailing gracefully behind her. The golden embroidery shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers, but it was her composed demeanor that caught Siddharth's attention.

She was no longer the fiery, stubborn girl he had once known—the one who never backed down from an argument, who fought for what was hers. Instead, the woman walking toward him held her head high, masking her emotions behind a veil of calmness. It wasn’t submission; it was sacrifice.

A sacrifice for her family.

Siddharth felt something stir within him, an unfamiliar weight in his chest. As she reached him, she hesitated for a fraction of a second before gracefully sitting beside him. In the process, her hand lightly brushed against his, sending an unexpected jolt through him. His heart pounded, surprising him.

The priest began chanting the sacred mantras, the rhythmic verses filling the air as the fire before them crackled softly. The rituals proceeded, each step binding them together in an unspoken promise.

Then came the seven vows.

Hand in hand, they circled the holy fire, taking silent oaths—oaths to protect, to respect, to stand by each other through life's storms. Each round sealed a commitment neither had fully accepted in their hearts, yet both knew there was no turning back.

As the final round was completed, they took their seats again.

The priest turned to Siddharth. "Now, fill the bride’s parting with sindoor."

Siddharth picked up the pinch of vermillion, his fingers hesitating for a brief moment. Navya remained still, her eyes lowered, waiting. He gently placed the sindoor in her hair parting, the deep red standing stark against her fair skin.

"Now, tie the mangalsutra," the priest instructed.

He reached for the sacred chain, its black and gold beads gleaming under the firelight. As he fastened it around Navya’s neck, his fingers brushed against her skin. A strange, unexplainable sense of finality settled over him.

With that, the ceremony was complete.

The priest’s voice rang through the hall, sealing their fate.

"From this moment, you are husband and wife."