Chereads / Sempiternal Destiny / Chapter 11 - Bound by Vows Broken by Faith

Chapter 11 - Bound by Vows Broken by Faith

She sat on the window couch, her gaze fixed on the moon. Her saree cascaded from her shoulder to the floor, the fabric pooling around her like liquid silk. The moonlight played on her bare back, exposed by the delicate curve of her backless blouse. Her chin rested lightly on the edge of the window, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and uncertainty. This was the most restless night of her life—the eve of an unwanted wedding. Tomorrow loomed like a shadow, but so did her plan to escape. She didn't know if it would succeed, but she was resolute. No matter the odds, she would take her chance.

But she wasn't the only one plagued by sleeplessness. But across the night, someone else lay restless too. To him, she wasn't just a woman; she was his goddess, the embodiment of everything he revered in a world where he had never believed in gods. Tomorrow, he would marry the woman he worshipped the goddess who had unknowingly become his entire world. If only she knew how deeply she had rooted herself in his soul—how much she meant to him.

Finally, the day arrived, and the palace stood resplendent, transformed into a vision of regal grandeur. The entrance was a masterpiece, adorned with towering arches wrapped in vibrant marigold and rose garlands. Intricate rangoli patterns in vivid hues of crimson, saffron, and emerald stretched across the marble pathways, welcoming guests into a world of opulence.

The courtyard shimmered under a canopy of golden fairy lights, each strand twinkling like stars against the twilight sky. Silk drapes in shades of deep red and gold cascaded from towering poles, swaying gently in the breeze. The air was fragrant with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, mingling with the earthy aroma of marigolds.

At the center, the mandap stood as the crown jewel. Carved wooden pillars, adorned with intricate designs, were wrapped in strings of white jasmine and crimson roses. Hanging from the corners were golden lanterns, their delicate patterns casting warm, dancing shadows on the marble floor. Beneath the open sky, the sacred fire awaited its moment, its embers glowing faintly in anticipation.

Around the venue, elegant banquet tables were dressed in silk runners embroidered with mirror work, and each table held ornate silver platters brimming with Rajasthani delicacies. Small clay lamps flickered at the edges, their soft glow adding an intimate charm to the grand celebration.

The palace walls echoed with the sound of folk music, the rhythm of dhols blending with the melodic tunes of shehnai. It was a day painted in the colors of tradition, love, and festivity—a setting as breathtaking as the emotions it sought to immortalize.

Finally, Ranvijay Rajvansh stood before the grand mirror, the embodiment of royalty as he prepared for the most anticipated day of his life. Draped in the world's finest sherwani, a masterpiece adorned with intricate embroidery of gold and diamonds, he looked nothing short of regal. The fabric shimmered with every move he made, catching the light and exuding an aura of unmatched sophistication.

But it wasn't just the grandeur of his attire that made him striking; it was the fire in his eyes, eyes that were decorated with the image of her. She was the muse behind his every breath, the woman who had unknowingly ruled his heart for years. His chest rose and fell with each heartbeat, pounding so fiercely it felt as though it might escape his body.

Ranvijay's presence was magnetic—a king without a crown, yet commanding reverence with every step he took. The aura he exuded was beyond mere words, a mix of power, elegance, and a love so profound it elevated him to something otherworldly. To anyone who saw him in that moment, he wasn't just a groom; he was the epitome of royalty, a man who carried centuries of heritage and a heart full of devotion.

The curtains parted, and sunlight streamed into the room, bathing her in a glow so divine that even gold seemed dull in comparison. Her skin glistened like molten sunlight as she stepped gracefully into the grand bathtub filled with water and fragrant petals floating on its surface. The maids worked delicately, washing her with reverence, as if afraid to mar her goddess-like presence.

Later, she sat before the grand mirror, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders like silk. The maids moved around her, drying her hair with the fragrant smoke of dhoop, the tendrils curling around her like a sacred aura. Her eyes, the most mesmerizing that could ever exist, held a storm of rage and hurt, emotions burning brighter than the jewels she would soon wear.

Her red wedding lehenga, crafted from the finest, most expensive fabrics, lay ready, shimmering with intricate gold embroidery. It was a masterpiece, heavy with tradition and wealth, yet it paled against the radiance of the woman who would wear it. Jewelry was draped upon her—necklaces, bangles, maang tikka—all so lavish that they could have blinded any onlooker.

And yet, it wasn't the opulence that drew the eye; it was her. Her beauty, so fierce and untouchable, was a force that could render a person speechless—perhaps even blind. She was a vision of magnificence, a queen in the truest sense, bearing her pain and rage like a crown no one could dare to challenge.

Dadi Sa entered Myra's room with Mrs. Singh in tow. The moment Dadi Sa laid eyes on Myra, her breath caught in her throat. It was as though time slowed down—she had always dreamt of having a daughter who would one day stand before her as a bride. Now, in that moment, her dream seemed to come true. Tears welled up in Dadi Sa's eyes, a mix of joy and longing.

Myra stood, then knelt gracefully at Dadi Sa's feet. Her heart tightened at the sight of the elderly woman's tears. Dadi Sa reached out, gently placing a kaala teeka (protective black mark) at Myra's neck, a gesture laden with blessing.

"Aap humare ghar ki Lakshmi hai. Aap humaari beti hai. Hamesha khush rahiye. Humaari saari khushiyan aapke aur Ranvijay ki ho jaayein."

(Translation: "You are the goddess of prosperity in our home. You are our daughter. May you always be happy. May all our joys be yours and Ranvijay's.")

The words pierced Myra's heart, the weight of them sinking deep. She lowered her gaze, her throat constricting as she whispered in her mind, Agar aapki iss beti se galti ho jaaye, toh maaf kar dijiyega, Dadi Sa.

(Translation: "If I make a mistake, please forgive me, Dadi Sa.")

Mrs. Singh, standing off to the side, forced a smile, her eyes empty of warmth. She wasn't concerned with Myra's happiness, let alone the wedding. It was all just another obligation to her.

Ranvijay stood in the grand hall, his heart racing with eager anticipation, every moment stretching out like an eternity. The guests had gathered, the atmosphere thick with excitement, but all his attention was fixed on the door. He could feel the electric tension in the air, the hushed whispers and stolen glances, but none of it mattered. He was waiting for only one person: her.

The grand doors were poised to open, and he could already imagine the moment. Her entrance, the way she would glide through the room, the sunlight making her shimmer like a goddess—everything had been meticulously prepared for her. His chest tightened as the doors slowly creaked open.

But then, his breath caught.

There was no sign of her.

The hall, draped in the finest silks and lit with a soft golden glow, suddenly felt empty. No shimmering red lehenga, no radiant beauty stepping forward to take the center stage. The air was thick with expectation, yet all he could feel was confusion, a growing sense of disbelief creeping over him.

He searched the room frantically, eyes darting to every corner, but there was no trace of her. No gentle footsteps, no delicate rustle of her lehenga, nothing. The music that had once sounded so enchanting now felt like a hollow echo in his ears. A cold knot formed in his stomach. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

Where was she? Why wasn't she here?

His mind raced, his thoughts clouded with worry and confusion. He had waited years for this moment, yet now that it had arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. Something was terribly wrong.