The tension in the air was thick—both of them waiting for the perfect moment.

Then Siya lunged.

But Shashwat was faster. With swift reflexes, he grabbed the shoes first.

"Yes! First round mera!" Shashwat smirked, lifting the shoes in the air.

Siya huffed, determined. She wouldn’t lose this easily.

This time, Siya was more careful.

As they circled the shoes again, Shashwat smirked, thinking he had this round too.

Just as he was about to grab them,

Siya dove forward, snatching them a second before he could!

"Yeyyyy!" Siya grinned, raising the shoes proudly.

The bride’s side erupted into cheers.

"Bas ek aur! Ek aur round jeetna hai Siya!" Richa encouraged Siya.

Siya took a deep breath, knowing this was the decider.

They both started circling the shoes again.

And in that tiny moment, Siya’s fingers brushed against the shoes but Shashwat picked it up first.

"YAAYYYY!!!" Shashwat squealed in excitement.

The Groom's side erupted into loud cheers, clapping and hooting.

"Wooohooo!" Arushi shouted, high-fiving Darsh.

"Aur ladki vale haar gaye!" Akash teased, making a dramatic loser sign with his fingers.

“Chalo shadi ke function start hone wale hain ho gaya.” Tara said clapping her hands.

The mandap was illuminated with the warm glow of sacred flames, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and fresh flowers. The rhythmic chants of the punditji echoed softly, blending with the occasional crackling of the fire. The atmosphere was solemn yet overwhelming, filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

As the time for the Kanyadaan arrived, the guests sat in silence, watching as Harsh and Tara were called forward. Their hands trembled slightly as they moved toward the mandap, knowing that this was the most sacred, yet the most heartbreaking moment of their lives.

Tara’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she reached for Ritika’s delicate hand, her own fingers slightly cold despite the warmth of the fire in front of them. A mother who had carried her daughter in her womb, who had held her hand through every step of life—now placing it in another’s.

She placed her right palm under Ritika’s, her thumb caressing the back of her daughter’s hand ever so slightly, as if trying to engrave the last touch into her soul.

Harsh inhaled deeply, his lips pressed into a firm line as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. His heart clenched painfully as he reached forward, placing his large, protective palm under his wife’s. He had held Ritika’s tiny hands when she first learned to walk, he had clasped them tightly when she was scared of the dark, and now… he was about to let go.

Arav stepped forward, his expression unreadable yet respectful, understanding the gravity of this moment. His hands were steady as he placed his palm beneath Harsh’s, his fingers brushing against his bride’s, promising to be the anchor to hold her through every storm.

With his left hand, he held an empty thali beneath his right palm, ready to receive the sacred offering.

Reyansh came forward next, his eyes slightly red, but his face void of any expression. His fingers curled around the lota filled with water, turf, rice, and sandalwood paste, his grip momentarily tightening as he fought against the emotions that threatened to surface.

Taking a slow, steady breath, he tilted the lota, and the mixture flowed smoothly, cascading onto the dough placed in Ritika’s hands. The liquid seeped through their joined palms, binding them not just in ritual but in an unspoken promise—a transfer of responsibility, a silent vow from one family to another.

The punditji’s chants grew deeper, the words of the sacred scriptures intertwining with the silent tears that dripped onto Ritika’s hand.

Ritika, unable to hold back any longer, let out a quiet sob. Her lips quivered as she clutched her father’s fingers for one last time, the warmth of his skin grounding her amidst the chaos in her heart.

She had always imagined this day, but no amount of dreams or reality could have prepared her for the ache in her chest—the feeling of being torn between two worlds.

Tara turned her face slightly, trying to wipe her tears discreetly, but Harsh’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly—a silent request to let it be. Because some emotions, some heartbreaks, were meant to be felt, not hidden.

Harsh’s voice broke through the silence, low and heavy with emotions he rarely let show.

“Meri beti meri jaan hai, Arav. Maine isse hamesha apni nazron ke saamne rakha hai, kabhi ek chhoti si takleef bhi iske paas aane nahi di. Aur aaj…” His voice wavered for a moment, but he took a deep breath, blinking back the moisture in his eyes. “Aaj isse tumhare haath mein de raha hoon. Sirf iska haath nahi, iska bharosa bhi tumhare hawaale kar raha hoon. Toh sambhal paoge?”

Arav met his gaze, no cockiness, no overconfidence—just raw, genuine sincerity. His fingers pressed slightly against Harsh’s palm in reassurance.

"Aapse jyada nahi, par aapke jitna khush rakhukga" he said softly, his voice firm.

His fingers tightened around Ritika’s for one last time, his thumb brushing against her knuckles before, finally, he let go.

Ritika’s hands trembled as she placed them in Arav’s waiting palms, the final act of transition complete. The sacred bond of Kanyadaan had been fulfilled—a father had given away his most precious treasure, and a husband had taken the first step toward protecting it.

Siya and Divya, seated at the side, dug their nails into their own palms to stop themselves from crying out loud. Their eyes blurred with tears, their breaths coming in silent, uneven gasps as they watched their friend, their sister, step into a new life.

And amidst it all, Reyansh slowly got up.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at anyone—he just walked away, his jaw clenched, his hands shoved into his pockets as he disappeared through the curtains into the dark, empty corridor.

Harsh’s sister stepped forward, the sacred cloth in her hands trembling slightly as she looked at her niece. With a deep breath, she tied the ends of Arav’s stole and Ritika’s dupatta together, knotting them tightly—the symbol of their union, their inseparable bond.

The time for the pheras had arrived.

The punditji’s voice rang loud and clear as Arav and Ritika stood side by side, their fingers twitching ever so slightly, still bound by the sacred knot.

"Ab kanya apna dahina charan kusha ghas pe rakhe," the punditji instructed.

Ritika gently placed her right foot on the sacred kusha grass, her every step now leading them forward into this new journey. Arav followed, stepping in line with her, their movements synchronized, their breaths uneven yet steady.

With each phera, their souls whispered unspoken vows, their hearts echoing silent promises.

Ritika and Arav turned to each other, their eyes locking, emotions too deep to be spoken. And together, they chanted the final mantra, their voices steady, their hands still bound.

“Saat vachanon ke saath mujhe jeevan saathi sweekar karo. Mujhse yeh bandhan kabhi mat todna.”

Their voices merged with the flames, their promises carried by the wind.

Arav and Ritika sat down, their fingers still intertwined beneath the soft folds of their wedding attire.

The punditji handed the mangalsutra to Arav—a delicate black and gold beaded chain, adorned with a small pendant symbolizing protection, strength, and an eternal connection. Arav held it between his fingers, his hands slightly trembling.

Ritika sat before him, her gaze lowered, her heart thudding softly in her chest. She could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of this ritual that would forever mark her as his wife.

As Arav leaned forward, bringing the mangalsutra close to her neck, his vision blurred with unshed tears. The reality of the moment crashed over him—she was his now, truly his. His partner, his strength, his everything.

His fingers brushed against her skin as he carefully secured the chain around her neck.

And then—a single tear escaped his eye, falling onto her collarbone.

Ritika's eyes fluttered open at the warm sensation. A tender smile spread across her lips as she reached up and gently wiped his tear with her fingertips.

"Kya tum rote waqt bhi itne handsome lagte ho?" she teased softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with warmth.

Arav let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, trying to blink away the moisture in his eyes.

Tara and Siya stepped forward, holding a soft, embroidered cloth between them. Their eyes glistened with unshed tears as they gently placed the fabric over Ritika’s and Arav’s heads—creating a private, sacred cocoon for the ritual that would forever mark her as his.

Arav picked up the small silver coin, dipping it gently into the sindoor. The vermilion—a symbol of love, commitment, and protection—gleamed under the flickering flames.

Slowly, he raised his hand and traced the sindoor along her hairline, seven times.

As Arav completed the seventh stroke, his forehead brushed against Ritika’s, sending a shiver down her spine. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, their closeness speaking volumes that words could never convey.

A slow, boyish smile spread across his lips as he whispered, "Welcome to my life, Mrs. Ritika Arav Rajvansh."

Ritika's heart skipped a beat. The way her new name rolled off his tongue, the way he said it with such possession, such love—it made her eyes shine with unshed tears.

Just as Arav leaned back, the sacred cloth was removed—and the entire hall erupted into laughter.

There, right in the middle of his forehead, a bright red smear of sindoor stood out against his skin.

Ritika blinked in surprise before bursting into a soft giggle.

"Arav jiju!" Siya laughed. "Aapko bhi dulhan bana diya Ritika didi ne!"

Tara shook her head fondly, while Harsh let out a rare chuckle.

Arav frowned, confused at first, before Ritika leaned forward and, still giggling, wiped the sindoor from his forehead with the edge of her chunari.

But before she could lean back, Arav smirked mischievously and reached forward, his thumb swiping at the tiny speck of sindoor dusting her nose.

How was the chapter??

Your favourite moments??

Do follow us on Instagram for spoilers and news related to updates.