"Argh!" The sudden appearance of Athavan in the temple scared the life out of Dhiviya. She gasped loudly, her hand instinctively tapping her chest as if to calm her racing heart. Her breathing was erratic, and her face flushed with embarrassment. Only then did she realize—she had been crying out loud, voicing her sorrows without knowing someone else was present.
She turned to look at Athavan, who sat like a sage in deep meditation, his face expressionless. Overwhelmed with shame, she quickly wiped her tears and looked down, feeling as if she wanted to dig a hole and hide.
"I-I'm sorry, Samy (Priest). I didn't know someone was here," she stammered, bowing slightly in an apologetic manner. She could barely meet his gaze, still reeling from the realization that someone had heard her private thoughts.
Athavan, unfazed by her reaction, took a deep breath and finally looked at her. His gaze was calm, unreadable, like that of a yogi lost in meditation. After a few moments, he spoke in a low yet firm voice.
"Come here."
Dhiviya hesitated, feeling awkward. Something about his presence made her feel small, insignificant even. After a moment of hesitation, she took slow steps toward him.
"Sit," he commanded again.
Dhiviya shook her head, unwilling to obey. She turned abruptly, eager to escape the temple.
"It's okay, Samy. I need to go—" Before she could finish, Athavan's voice rang out, this time stronger, almost authoritative.
"Sit."
A strange power resided in his voice, one that left no room for disobedience. Trembling slightly, she complied, lowering herself onto the floor. Her eyes welled up again, but she quickly wiped them when he spoke.
"Wipe your eyes."
She did as he said, unsure why she was listening to him.
"What do you want, Samy?" she asked softly, avoiding his piercing gaze.
Athavan studied her for a moment before asking, "Why were you crying?"
Dhiviya froze. Her thoughts became a jumbled mess. Should she answer? Should she lie? After a few seconds of silence, she simply shook her head, as if to dismiss his question. "It's nothing," she whispered.
Athavan did not seem convinced. He tilted his head slightly before speaking again. "You are the bride for tomorrow's wedding, aren't you?"
Dhiviya's eyes widened in shock. How did he know? She hesitated before nodding slightly.
"If you don't want this marriage, why don't you refuse?"
Dhiviya smiled bitterly. "Sometimes in life, we don't have the luxury of saying no."
Athavan listened carefully, and for the first time, his lips curved into a faint smile. It was barely noticeable, yet Dhiviya caught it. Her heart skipped a beat. There was something strangely captivating about that rare smile.
He then muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Yes, sometimes we are helpless, forced to agree even when we want to disagree."
Dhiviya frowned. "What did you say, Samy?"
Athavan ignored her question and instead asked, "Haven't you seen the groom's picture?"
She looked at him thoughtfully, trying to recall something. Then it struck her. The realization hit her like lightning.
"You... You... You're not a priest... You're the groom?!"
Her face turned pale, and horror filled her eyes. How could she have made such a mistake? She had cried in front of him, voiced her deepest worries—only to realize that the man she was supposed to marry had heard everything!
A wave of mortification washed over her. Without another word, she stood up and bolted out of the temple like a deer fleeing from a predator. Athavan chuckled softly, watching her retreating figure. Her innocence amused him.
Outside, Dhiviya ran straight into her mother, Archana, who was carrying a fresh flower garland.
"Why are you running as if you've seen a ghost?" Archana asked, startled by her daughter's frantic expression.
"Mom! Let's go back home. Now!" Dhiviya pleaded, tugging at her mother's hand.
Archana frowned. "I haven't even entered the temple yet. I need to offer my prayers. What's gotten into you?"
"Please, Amma! Just this once, listen to me," Dhiviya begged, her voice trembling.
Archana, sensing something unusual, finally relented. As they walked away, she glanced back at the temple, only to see a lone figure emerging from its entrance. It was Athavan.
Recognizing him immediately, Archana gasped. "Hey! That's the groom, isn't it? Did you bump into him inside?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Dhiviya groaned in embarrassment. "Mom, please don't make this worse. Just don't talk about it!"
Archana chuckled lightly but refrained from pressing further. As they walked away, she mumbled, "He still looks unshaved… like a priest."
"I heard his mother passed away nine months ago. He's mourning until her first-year anniversary," Archana added solemnly.
Dhiviya listened quietly, her earlier embarrassment momentarily replaced by a pang of sympathy.
The wedding preparations began early the next morning at the same temple. Per Athavan's request, the ceremony was kept simple. His father, Kathirven, was initially reluctant but eventually agreed, understanding his son's grief. The only people truly excited about the wedding were Dhiviya's parents, Kathirven, and Athavan's grandmother, Kamachi. The rest of the relatives merely attended out of obligation.
Athavan, dressed traditionally, still resembled a yogi with his long unshaved beard and solemn face. There was an eerie calmness about him, as if he were detached from the world.
When the priest called for the bride's entrance, Dhiviya walked in slowly. Her face was flushed pink, and her heart pounded wildly. The shame from yesterday still lingered in her chest. She stole a quick glance at Athavan—he looked the same, unreadable, detached.
The ceremony progressed, and soon, they were declared husband and wife.
After the wedding, Athavan and Dhiviya entered the wedding car, which would take them to Kuala Lumpur. She stole glances at him from time to time, trying to understand him. But he remained as still as a statue.
At some point, exhaustion took over, and Dhiviya drifted off to sleep. Without realizing it, she rested her head on Athavan's shoulder.
He turned slightly, watching her peaceful face. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable. A moment later, he tapped the driver, signaling him to lower the radio volume. The car continued its journey in silence.
Their journey together had just begun, and neither of them knew what fate had in store for them.