The dusty highway shimmered in the late afternoon heat, and before long, the quiet road became a scene of chaos.
A group of local goons swaggered out from behind a thicket, brandishing sticks and shouting, "Leave the cars and walk away!"
Gauri instinctively stepped in front of Vihaan, while Kiara held on to Yuvaan's arm, their eyes flicking nervously between the men and their husbands.
Vihaan's jaw tightened; his fingers twitched with dark energy. Beside him, Yuvaan's aura flared faintly—like a storm waiting for permission. But before either could unleash their true strength, soft voices tethered them to restraint.
"Vihaan, not here," Gauri whispered, her voice firm yet pleading. "No one should see what you are."
"Yuvaan," Kiara murmured under her breath, "don't. We'll just make it worse. Please."
For a brief moment, both men hesitated—creatures of power caged by love and caution.
Before the tension could erupt, a commanding voice sliced through the commotion.
"Stop!"
An older man, draped in a cream kurta and a turban marked with authority, strode forward. The goons instantly lowered their weapons.
It was Sarpanch Markand—a man respected across villages for both his temper and his fairness. But as his eyes landed on Gauri, something flickered in his expression—recognition.
"You…" he said, stepping closer. "You're the one who once drove the cab—yes, that rainy night. My daughter—she was dying, and you braved the traffic, got her to the hospital… you saved her life!"
Gauri's lips curved in a modest smile. "I only did what anyone would've done."
He folded his hands deeply. "No, bitiya… what you did was divine. You saved my world. At least let me repay it. My daughter is getting married near the temple. You must all come, you and your… family."
Gauri opened her mouth to politely refuse, but Vihaan's voice cut in—low, guarded. "We have somewhere to be."
Yuvaan echoed with a smirk, "And weddings aren't really my kind of entertainment."
Markand smiled good-naturedly, undeterred. "Only for a little while. The temple's just nearby."
That word—temple—made Vihaan stiffen. Gauri noticed instantly. She leaned in, her voice a teasing whisper near his ear. "What's the matter? Scared to go near the temple? Maybe you fear that Vihaan might return and the darkness will fade."
Vihaan scoffed, his pride instantly provoked. "Scared? Hardly. I'll come… just to show you how wrong you are."
Meanwhile, Kiara tugged Yuvaan's arm. "We were headed toward a temple anyway. If there's a shortcut, why not take it?"
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if anyone throws rice at me, I'm leaving."
---
The village temple courtyard buzzed with laughter and color. Marigolds lined the pillars, and the sound of drums echoed across the hills. But the "bride" was no blushing girl—it was a donkey, garlanded in flowers and draped in silk.
Kiara blinked in disbelief. "Please tell me this is a joke."
Gauri stifled a laugh. "It's an old ritual… a symbolic wedding to ward off bad luck before the real ceremony."
Vihaan muttered dryly, "Humans never fail to surprise me."
Yuvaan smirked, "You're telling me."
The villagers danced joyously, pulling everyone into the circle. Both couples protested at first, but soon laughter melted resistance. The rhythmic beats filled the air; the divine and the damned moved together—unknowingly caught in the same destiny's web.
Then, clouds gathered. A soft drizzle turned into a gentle rain, washing the dust off the world.
Gauri turned toward Vihaan, her blue kurta clinging to her form, eyes glistening under the downpour. "Still think light can't touch darkness?" she teased.
For the first time, he didn't reply. Instead, he stepped closer, the rain dripping from his hair as he cupped her face. She didn't pull away. The world blurred as their lips met—fire and water merging under a storm-laced sky.
Across the courtyard, Yuvaan and Kiara shared a similar moment. He pulled her close, his breath warm against her ear. "Still think I don't feel anything?" he whispered.
Kiara's heart pounded, unsure whether it was real or just another game. Yet, as they moved together beneath the rain, even her doubts drowned in the rhythm of the falling sky.
And above it all, the temple bells rang—soft, resonant, and fateful—marking not just a wedding of rituals, but the intertwining of destinies that would soon shake both their worlds.