The morning felt different.
Not louder, not brighter-but fuller, as if the house itself was aware that something sacred was about to unfold.
Arina stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting the pleats of her red saree. The fabric clung to her just right, deep crimson catching the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. She wasn't dressed extravagantly-she never liked that-but today, there was a quiet glow about her. Perhaps it was the color. Or perhaps it was the certainty in her eyes.
She lifted her hand and placed a small red bindi on her forehead, right between her brows. It was a simple thing, but it made her pause. She stared at her reflection for a moment longer than necessary, breathing slowly.
Today mattered.
The faint sound of footsteps made her look up instinctively.
Reyansh stepped out of the adjoining room, adjusting the sleeve of his yellow kurta-the one she had chosen for him specifically for today. The color softened him, made him look less distant, less guarded. For a brief second, she simply stared, taking him in.
Then, with exaggerated seriousness, she turned fully toward him.
"My handsome husband," she declared dramatically, folding her arms, "is looking extra handsome today."
Reyansh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Extra?" he repeated. "Was there ever a time I wasn't?"
She scoffed lightly and walked toward him. "Today is special. You look... puja-ready."
Before he could respond, Arina dipped her ring finger into the kajal kept neatly on the dressing table. She reached up, standing on her toes slightly, and placed a small dot behind his ear.
"There," she said with a bright smile. "Now no buri nazar will fall on you."
Reyansh didn't move, didn't protest. He only watched her-those small, sincere gestures that always surprised him. "And what about you?" he asked calmly. "Shouldn't you be protected too?"
She tilted her head. "You can do it if you want."
For a moment, he hesitated. Then he mirrored her actions-dipping his finger carefully into the kajal and placing a dot behind her ear, slower than necessary, as if aware of the intimacy of the act.
Arina felt something warm bloom in her chest.
"There," he said quietly.
She smiled, softer this time.
"Did you invite Manav?" she asked casually, turning back toward the mirror to check her bangles.
Reyansh nodded. "Already done."
She hummed in approval. "Good. Pandit ji will be here any time now. I'll go downstairs."
The house below was already alive with gentle movement. Flowers were arranged, incense prepared, fruits washed and placed neatly. Arina guided the maid calmly, her voice steady, her hands moving with purpose.
"Bring the fruits here," she said, adjusting the brass plate. "And keep the diya ready."
She barely had time to turn when someone suddenly grabbed her shoulders from behind.
"Boo."
Arina yelped softly, her heart skipping, and spun around instantly. "Advika!"
Before she could say anything more, a sharp but affectionate voice cut in.
"Advika! What kind of behavior is this?"
Their mother stood near the doorway, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.
Advika instantly made a dramatic pout. "First time in my sister's sasural, and I get scolded already."
Arina couldn't help it-she laughed. She stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly, then her father, breathing in that familiar comfort .
Advika cleared her throat loudly. "Excuse me? I also exist. Hug?"
Arina rolled her eyes but pulled her into an embrace anyway.
Standing there, surrounded by them, Arina felt a sense of quiet stability. She knew-deep down-that her attachment to them was different from what she felt for Reyansh .
She was speaking with her parents when footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Reyansh descended calmly, his presence commanding even in simplicity. As soon as he reached them, he bent down and touched her parents' feet respectfully.
Her parents immediately blessed him, hands resting on his head, warmth evident in their expressions.
"How are you?" he asked politely. "I'm sorry I couldn't come for pakfera."
Her father waved it off. "No need to apologize. You're here today-that's enough."
Advika leaned in toward Arina and whispered, "He's very proper, isn't he?"
Arina elbowed her discreetly.
She gestured toward the seating. "Please sit. The pooja is about to start."
Soon, Arina and Reyansh sat side by side . The priest began chanting, the air filling with incense and mantras. Arina followed each step carefully-offering flowers, lighting the diya, folding her hands with sincerity.
Reyansh, though not deeply spiritual, stayed attentive. He followed her cues quietly, never questioning, never dismissive. When she passed him offerings, their fingers brushed lightly-small, unspoken moments that only they seemed aware of.
At one point, she glanced at him. He was watching her-not the priest, not the rituals-but her. There was something steady in his gaze, something that spoke of acceptance.
The pooja continued, slow and peaceful.
Arina closed her eyes briefly, her lips moving in silent prayer-not for prosperity, not for success-but for continuity. For this rhythm to last just a little longer.
When the aarti began, she handed Reyansh the plate instinctively. He took it without question, rotating it slowly, respectfully with her.
Their movements were synchronized . Natural.
And as the bells rang softly, Arina felt it again-that quiet certainty.
Not happiness that burst. Not love that demanded.
But something settled. Something rooted.
In that movement,she allowed herself to believe that this calm... might stay.
---
"A home becomes holy when hearts bow together."