The rains arrived not as a storm, but a whisper.
They came in gentle waves, soaking the cracked soil and kissing parched leaves until the village of Vaishali shimmered with new life. Fields once dead now breathed again. Seedlings pushed their heads through the dirt. Cattle mooed softly in gratitude.
And Anaya, standing ankle-deep in wet earth, felt—for the first time in months—a quiet sort of relief.
Beside her, Yuvan drove a wooden plow. The boy who once couldn't tell wheat from grass now knew how to cut rows, how to shift the yoke, how to rest when blisters bled.
He didn't complain. Not anymore.
Their rhythm was unspoken.
She sowed.He pulled.They grew.
The villagers no longer stared. They watched with respect now—some with curiosity, some with doubt. The two of them together made little sense. She, a priest's daughter. He, a Zamindar's heir. But sense had long since taken a backseat to survival.
It was too good to last.
That afternoon, as clouds broke open into light, a rider entered Vaishali.
A fine-bred horse. A black shawl streaked with gold. A dagger glinting at the waist. His name was Viraj—Yuvan's elder cousin and the true heir to the estate should Yuvan be deemed "unfit."
He dismounted slowly in the village square, his eyes scanning the people, the mud, the temple... and finally, Yuvan, who stood shirtless in the fields, laughing with children as they watered saplings.
"What a fall," Viraj murmured, his lips curling.
Yuvan heard the voice before he saw the man.
He turned—and the laughter left his face.
"Cousin," Viraj said smoothly. "You look... tanned."
"Unexpected visit," Yuvan replied, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Viraj tilted his head. "Word reached the capital. Famine. Fire. Your disappearance. I feared you were dead."
"I lived."
"I see. As a farmer, apparently."
Anaya approached, carrying a sack of grain. Her eyes flicked between the two men.
Viraj saw her. Smiled.
"And this must be the priest's daughter. Anaya, is it? Quite the companion."
Yuvan stepped forward. "Don't."
But Anaya, calm as stone, said, "I'm not a companion. I'm a worker. Like him."
"Worker," Viraj echoed, amused. "How poetic."
The air grew tight.
Viraj turned to Yuvan. "Your father sent me. The family estate needs you. The books are unbalanced. Rumors are spreading. You playing farmer with... peasants," his tone dripped, "is causing scandal."
"I'm not returning," Yuvan said quietly.
Viraj blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I belong here. For now. And the estate… it can wait."
"Can the land wait when creditors come with swords?"
Yuvan didn't flinch. "Then let them come. I'll face them."
Anaya stared. She had expected hesitation. Doubt. A slip. But his voice didn't shake.
Viraj's smile faded. "Very well," he said. "If you want to rot in mud, I'll leave you to it. But the world outside this village doesn't forget, Yuvan. Nor forgive."
He mounted his horse and, before riding off, threw one last dagger.
"And neither do bloodlines."
🌿 In the heavens, the gods watched in silence.
Narad shook his head. "The roots have barely deepened, and already the storm comes."
Shiva's eyes narrowed. "Blood challenges bond. A test not of kindness, but conviction."
Lakshmi whispered, "This vow is fulfilled, but vows are not chains. The boy must now choose where his loyalty blooms."
Parvati added, "And she must decide if she trusts the bloom… or fears the thorns."
That night, Anaya found Yuvan outside the temple, staring into the fire.
"Are you afraid?" she asked.
He didn't lie. "Yes. But not of him."
"Then of what?"
"Of becoming the man I used to be… if I leave."
She sat beside him. Close, but not touching.
"You are not that man anymore," she said.
He turned to her, voice low. "How do you know?"
"Because he would never have asked."
A vow kept is only the beginning.But keeping it under fire—that is where the soul is tested.
And in the flames of family, a new promise begins to flicker…Unspoken. Unnamed.But burning.